Have you ever fallen in love…for three days?

Festivals are a hot spot for alcohol and sun-fuelled romances, providing the perfect place to experience a fleeting, sweaty and emotional crush. It can be a modern-day love story!

I remember being at a particular festival (which I won’t name because I want to keep the mystery) and met a boy outside a DJ tent. He was really good looking and dressed way too cool for me but we clicked instantly.

The first night saw us running around the festival, dancing at the silent disco, piggy-backing each other through the campsite and then hanging out in the tent afterwards. Tents are gross, unstable and smelly excuses for shelter; yet there’s something about them at a festival that’s weirdly romantic.

The next day, we met up again in the night, dancing with each other, being so cheesy it almost makes me sick. Danced more, bought each other drinks and held hands like we had known each other forever.

When my friends had heard of the of crush and that it had already been a two-day affair, they asked the question “are you going to make it a thing?”

They got into my head that the third day/date always means you have to establish something concrete or nothing at all.

I hated this idea, but stupidly, it scared me. I started (for only a few hours mind you) to become distant with my festival crush; taking longer to reply to messages, anxiously ghosting him, until I thought fuck it, and messaged him back on our last night.

We walked back to his campsite where his friend was and just sat and talked in the camp chairs. They were from a different state, so we compared inane things like public transport and dialects. It got late, I had to go, and we hugged as I left for the ‘last’ time.

I walked back to my tent at 3am, lovey and already nostalgic of my brief festival romance, then I received a call. It was him. “Where are you?” he asked me.

All of a sudden, I see him running down the dirt road, grabbing me and kissing me. I am completely aware of how rom-com-y this sounds and how cheesy the whole ordeal was, but I can’t deny that I felt like I was flying. Maybe it was the copious amounts of alcohol.

We kissed, look at each other for one last time and actually said our goodbyes this time. We set plans to meet up that both of us knew deep down were probably never going to happen but it helped with the finality of it all. Our weird romance lived and died at the festival and that was okay.

Maybe I’ll find another festival crush, maybe you’ll find a festival crush. My advice to you; let it happen, be cheesy and over the top (as long as you’re safe) and enjoy it- even if you mates give you shit. It’ll be a fun story to tell one day and hey, maybe you might actually meet the love of your life and live happily ever after.