The Emotional Roller Coaster Of Having A Music Festival Romance
Zara Barrie delivers this hilarious tongue-in-cheek featuring about the soaring highs and crushing lows of music festival romance. Perhaps you've experienced this for yourself?
Find yourself chuckling and relating all too well by reading the story below!This article originally appeared on Elite Daily
Before I moved back to the freezing cold, bitter, exorbitantly expensive, wildly diverse city of New York, I lived in Southern California. Sunny, palm-tree-adorned, beauteous Los Angeles, California, to be exact.
Sometimes I don’t know why I left my spacious $800 per month bedroom in the glass house in the Hills overlooking the hopeful Hollywood sign for a six-story walkup apartment with a broken shower for double the money on 92nd street.
I guess I just enjoy the misery, babe. I am British, after all. And no one likes to suffer like us Brits.
I was in my late teens/early 20s in my LA stint, and I played the California Girl role pretty well for an alabaster-skinned, raven-haired, native Manhattanite.
A huge part of my West Coast existence was defined by ~music festivals~. Yes, I was a festival girl before it was en-vogue to be a festival girl. And I was an authentic festival girl. Meaning, I really, really, really, really, really, really, really loved the music. And I really, really, really, really, really, really, really loved to lay in the grass and sink into the earth, smoke endless joints and get lost in the gorgeous sounds. It wasn’t glam at all in 2005. It was muddy; it was druggy; it was brutally hot, but it was fucking magical.
It wasn’t Coachella and it wasn’t Bonnaroo without a bit of the ole’ ~festival romance~.
I mean, think about it: You’re young, you’re wearing fringe (before it became so embarrassingly cliché and Forever21 had a festival line), you haven’t bathed, you’re high as a kite, you’re in musical bliss… of course you’re going to fall madly in love. You’re in such a heightened state of happiness (at least until the mushrooms turn on you) that, to be perfectly honest, you could fall in love with a rotting tree.
Yes, you’re not exactly grounded in reality when you’re experiencing heatstroke while crying booze-filled tears as your favorite band plays and looking for your friends in a teeming sea of thousands of people rolling on ecstasy, not quite sure if you’re having the best time of your life or if you just WANT TO GO HOME ALREADY.
That’s what they don’t tell you about music festivals, kittens. It’s an emotional roller coaster of highs and lows. There is nothing more raw than being covered in mud and dangerously dehydrated while listening to your favorite song in the world LIVE. If that’s not a triggering combination, I don’t know what is.
So, when you’re in this rare form, your festival romance is going to be quite an epic journey. One for the memoir, one for the grandkids.
Here are the seven emotional phases of The Festival Romance: