A perfect summer romance is one that has a beginning and an end. It's one that never grew tiresome. It's one that could be slipped off and replaced with something a little more normal, a little more lasting. There's no question what constitutes a great one or a bad one, but the delusion is that they should follow you into the fall and that's just not the case. You should never see that person that you were flirting and gallivanting around with for three months without that seasoned tan. They should always have that sunburn red and brown to their skin. You shouldn't even be able to recognize them in their post-winter pastiness. These are the kind of romances that don't happen forever. The likelihood of them occurring goes down considerably once those college years have expired. These romances are tied to youth and because of that, there can be even more uncertainty to them. It's about being led from one party to the next, from one pretty face to another, with the thought that there's not a lot of time to capitalize upon. Hollywood, Florida, band Beach Day doesn't take these sorts of dalliances on as its chief concern, but it's hard to believe that the months of June-through-August aren't within its wheelhouse. It's during those months when the idea is to maximize as much exposure to the sun before it lets you down. It's about getting out on the boat as many times as your buddy's dad will let you take it out. It's about not feeling guilty about cracking beers before noon. It's about determining who's single and therefore determining who just might be up for a fling that's not going to need to be all that serious. It's about enjoying those extra hours of daylight and the excuse to wear less and to stare more when someone else does the same. It's romance as a lark. Beach Day songs are those soft tumbles into love that are barely serious. They're more interesting than anything else. When they end, the break up is just going to result in a pause, not a breakdown.