By Emma Simonoff

The Hamptons are a symbol of elegance — of old money getting away from the dirty muck of summer in Manhattan. When I picture the Hamptons, I imagine manicured families wearing all white to polite barbecues and getting up early to play tennis at the beach house before going to the club to play more tennis. The Hamptons are an oasis.

But it turns out there is another side to the Hamptons. From Memorial Day until Labor Day, every Friday at 5 p.m. sharp, the upper-middle class 20-and-30-somethings of Brooklyn and the West Village hop on the Long Island Railroad and storm the beaches.

Because they often don’t have spouses or children, these young professionals group to rent a vacation home where they pre-game, throw parties and occasionally sleep. In that phenomenon lies the humble premise of Bravo TV’s reality show, “Summer House.”

In “Summer House,” “Loverboy” founder Kyle Cooke and his group of fun-loving friends rent a home together. I started watching “Summer House” at the beginning of quarantine and it is the perfect mid-pandemic show. It has the right amount of partying to live vicariously through the screen. Sure, it looks fun, but there’s just enough nutso drama to make you think maybe you should be watching them do it instead of doing it yourself.

There is so much to get from “Summer House.” You get to watch Cooke and housemate Amanda Batula go from a sad booty-call to an allegedly happy engaged couple — and from previews of the new season, it looks like they might now be married. You get to watch friendships being made, ending, becoming romances and going back to friendships again. Moderately successful companies are started, podcasts are recorded, sushi is ordered. And of course, there are fights. So. Many. Fights. Over dinner, at a bar, on the beach at sunset, at a polo party, at a pool party, on a boat, in an Uber, on a roof — you name the place, someone has screamed into their close friend’s face there.

Season five, which is currently airing, is a whole new ball game. Because of COVID-19, the housemates quarantined together for six weeks straight instead of commuting every week. No jetting to the city, no going out to eat and no visitors. They even have to make their own espresso martinis. These people can barely stand living together for two nights a week, let alone 42 nights in a row. All hell is going to break loose. I can’t wait, and you shouldn’t miss it. Give this show a try if you like reality television, if you miss having fun or if you’re just bored. I recommend starting with season three, but you can pick any season and you’ll get the gist.

This is a call to action! Watch “Summer House.” I promise you won’t regret it.