Dear Rebound Guy,
I would like to take this time to 1) say thank you, and 2) apologize for using you at my own discretion.
You see, there comes a time in every girl’s life when she gets dumped. Dumped so hard she can only listen to Bon Iver, curl up in a ball in her bed and turn off all the lights. Oh yes, and sob, did I mention that? But there also comes a time when it’s Friday night and her best friends drag her out of bed, put her in a killer push-up bra, a mini-skirt and take her to the most populated bar in town. And that, my friend, is where you came in.
To begin, I’d like to thank you for approaching me…or rather the alcohol induced, suddenly-confident-yet-secretly-broken version of me. Right now you think I’m this great girl who you were so lucky to stumble upon and, sure, I may seem completely level-headed and down-for-whatever, but you have no idea what you’ve just gotten yourself into. So, after a few sloppy dances and sweaty hugs, my friends finally find me and let me know you are, in fact, not as attractive as I had thought, and I depart. Without you. (Tease move number one). But not before you whip out your iPhone4 and I shout my number over the music. And that’s how it always begins.
Over the next few days, as you’re contemplating how to play it cool with a sly text message, I am completely unaware that we’ve ever met. And so normal life continues; facebook stalking my ex-boyfriend, creeping on girls he’s been in photos with, listening to sad music while crying and looking at old photos, deciding whether or not to burn that teddy bear he gave me, discussing what went wrong with my roommate while eating KFC… Needless to say, Rebound Guy, you are the furthest thing from my mind.
All of a sudden my phone’s text alert rings and I lunge hoping it’s my beloved ex! But it’s you, and you want to take me on a date. A blurred image of you pops into my head and I remember enough information about you to find you on Facebook. Okay, you’re decent looking, business major, look clean…I’ll give this a shot. I quickly run out of my room and into my roommate’s and we discuss how much better you could be than my ex and how this could lead to something real and all that B.S. we tell ourselves and each other, when really we all know deep down this will just be a free meal, a potential new friend and another reason to miss the ex…because well, you’re just not my ex-boyfriend.
Saturday evening rolls around and you pick me up at my apartment. You look handsome, tell me I look pretty and even open my door. We have awkward car conversation and pick a place to eat. I think to myself, “Alright, this is going fairly well! Maybe I really am ready to move forward!” But as the night wears on and my pseudo-happy self surfaces (which, by the way, you are really taking a liking to), deep down I am acknowledging the fact that I am not yet ready.
As you pull up to my apartment complex I lean in for a kiss and thank you for dinner. Why did I kiss you? It’s hard to say. Possibly because I haven’t kissed a guy (sober) in quite a while, maybe because it’s just the normal thing to do if the date went well, or perhaps to try and convince myself that I’ve moved on. Regardless, none of the reasons are because I actually like you in a romantic way. So as you drive away grinning from ear-to-ear brainstorming your next witty text message, I am rushing into my apartment, headed straight to my room to blast Ashley Tisdale’s “Alright, O.K.” as I jump around trying to convince myself to give you a chance and forget the jerk before you.
More quickly than expected, the Ash-Tis jams turn into James Morrison’s songs of heartbreak and I’m back to square one.
The next few weeks you text me frequently and I play along simply because I don’t want to hurt your feelings. Though we had a great time, it just wasn’t there on my end, but it’s not like I don’t want to be your friend. However, it’s too late and I’ve led you on.
Now, a year later, you have messaged me wanting to hang out. I gave myself the time I needed and am with someone wonderful and new, but you are still trying…
So here it goes: thank you for allowing me to use you as a stepping-stone to getting over someone else. I think we’ve all been there before, too. Unfortunately, you were just completely unaware. I’m sorry if I chipped your ego or made you feel self-conscious, but it was simply terrible timing.
Sincerely,
Olivia
