Hot Girl Summer: defined by Meg Thee Stallion as “To be you, just having fun. Turning up driving the boat and not giving a damn about what nobody’s saying”.

Sadly, I was not partaking in any of these freedom antics, having spent my summer with two underpaid jobs as a grime-stricken waitress. By the dawn of August, I thought all hope was lost for Hot Girl Summer, until, after a few rounds of post-work drinks, a cheeky flirtation began between a fellow co-worker and myself.

“I was caught in such a frenzy retreating from his house that I forgot the age-old advice: always pee after sex”

While the events themselves were quite satisfactory, that period of time was littered with miscommunication and immaturity, which I should’ve picked up on as major red flags. Yet, I was happy to ignore all minor misdemeanours as I thought I was finally “driving” said metaphorical “boat”. In fact, things were going swimmingly. This was until I was snuck out the back door of his house when his family came home one evening.

I was caught in such a frenzy retreating from his house that I forgot the age-old advice: always pee after sex. Sadly, I did not. Indeed, the next morning I woke up with a mild case of cystitis. As a frequent sufferer of the ailment, I thought I’d soldier on with just water and paracetamol.

By 2pm, however, I was sitting, home alone, in a pile of hot water bottles with a fever, on the phone to 111, in total despair. The healthcare worker booked me an appointment with my GP at 9 the next morning. Fine — I thought — I’ll brave it until then.

“On top of everything, I didn’t even get a text back, just an awkward smile the following shift”

At 5pm, blood made a guest appearance in my wee. I was thoroughly freaking out by this point; if this was the aftermath of Hot Girl Summer, I didn’t want it. Since I was on my own, I called in for reinforcements and my pal arrived armed with cranberry juice, Thai food and a strong recommendation to call 111 back.

On my second call to 111, at 6pm, I was immediately referred to A&E. Unable to drive, or be driven (as my parents were on holiday) my friend and I began the walk to the hospital, clad in fluffy pyjamas. This detail is crucial as, on arrival at the hospital, I was directed to the children’s ward. My friend thought this was hilarious and posted it on her story, which caused an immediate sensation. In retrospect, it is quite funny, but at the time, walking the extra 20m back to adult’s A&E was painful, both physically and mentally.

My suspicions were confirmed by the doctor: a nasty UTI, for which I was given double strength antibiotics, and a chat about my future health choices. Possibly one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. I felt a sense of relief walking back home, antibiotics in hand, thinking it would all be okay. But, oh, how wrong I was…The pills I was given had side effects that only affect 1/10 people; unfortunately, I was that 1/10 and had to take time off work as I was queasy all week.

On top of everything, I didn’t even get a text back, just an awkward smile the following shift. Needless to say, we aren’t chums anymore. Perhaps Hot Girl Summer will be better next year, but for now: -3.5/5 stars.