Rebound Gone Right?

We all get our hearts broken. It’s an inevitable pain that happens more than once. But that’s dating. That’s relationships. It’s all trial and error until we find that one person who sticks.

F. Scott Fitzgerald once said, “There are all kinds of love in this world but never the same love twice.”

That’s the same with heartbreak.

Sure, you can feel the same disappointment with someone as you did with another person, but the magnitude of the heartbreak, the feeling of the heartbreak and the impact of the heartbreak will always be different.

My last heartbreak was different from the rest. It was painful. Not really a deep pain that slowly burns, but a fast, sharp pain that left me out in the cold before even realizing I never brought a jacket.

It was the kind of pain that everyone expected to be done and over with quickly. I think because of this expectation, I forced myself to get over it as fast as I could, barely allowing myself to heal and reflect.

I’ve never really cared for rebounds. Sure, if some of my girlfriends were heartbroken and a guy popped up, I’d tell them to go for it. But the truth is, rebounds are a distraction. They’re a bandaid, not a solution. Additionally, there’s always one person who likes the other more and the cycle of pain continues when things start to get messy.

More importantly, rebounds are hardly honest. I always respect a person when they’re honest about their intentions, so I have a hard time giving the rebound route a green light.

So when it was my turn to give the rebound route a go, you can imagine it didn’t go as expected.

After my little heartbreak, I found myself in DC.

Because I want everyone to live their best life, I’m going to let you in on a little secret.

If you’re ever feeling down, go to DC and start swiping on literally any dating app because I promise you will strike gold. DC is like a hub of beautiful and highly capable people who are probably all dtf but will take you to a nice dinner first. But that’s just a guess.

For the few days I was there, I thought to myself, ‘Is this really what’s out there? Have I actually been blind for this long? Why the fuck was I wasting time with that last guy???’

So your girl got back to Gainesville with freshly prescribed dating contacts to see what else was out there.

Within the first week I was back, I stacked my weekend with dates with a new guy each night. One on Friday, one on Saturday, one on Sunday. I may have exaggerated a little, but come on. I was on the track to recovery and I like to give 120% effort in everything I do. It’s a blessing and a curse.

My Friday date asked me to pick a place. Since I love taking all my first dates here because I’m cynical and I think its hilarious, we went to Boca Fiesta.

He really wasn’t bad. I’d rate the date a solid 7.8. We made plans to see each other again. I canceled.

I remember calling my friend and telling her how the date went and that I was curious to see how my Saturday date would compare.

So the next day arrives and as I sat at the bar at Boca Fiesta (I shit you not I genuinely find joy out of this), my date arrived. He was amazing. He was like an old soul, full of depth. I felt like I could talk to him for hours. Definitely a good 9.0 rating.

So when it came time for my Sunday date, I honestly was exhausted. I didn’t feel like going to what felt like a job interview for the third day in a row. Besides, I already found great options, adding another would be pushing it, right?

But whatever, I went for it. By this time, I was sick of Boca and luckily he suggested a brewery instead. God bless. Still love you though, Boca.

I literally didn’t care so much about this date, I showed up five minutes late and even sat in my car contemplating how much effort I wanted to put into this night.

I get out of my car and noticed he was waiting outside for me. It was cold out and I was surprised to see him there. As I approached him, my heart actually stopped. I wanted to turn around and get back into my car immediately. Why, you ask?

Because this guy was the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.

His photos didn’t do him justice at all. And he looked great in his photos, if that tells you anything.

I asked him why he was outside on a chilly night, and he said, “I’m a gentleman, and I wanted to wait for you to arrive.”

Bye.

Going back to my car.

You’re a 10/10, and we haven’t even started drinking yet.

So we get to the bar and start talking. I can’t rave about this guy enough. We immediately felt so comfortable around each other, it felt like I’d known him for years.

We ended up being the last people there and only left because the brewery had to close. He walked me to my car, kissed me goodbye and sent me a text as soon as I got home thanking me for the evening.

He was a winner.

A champ.

Mr. Perfect, really.

He was basically a rebound gone so, so, so right.

So this continued. We saw each other for a while. He taught me how to drive stick in his car. He took me to my favorite restaurant for a glass of wine. We laughed. We joked. And most importantly, we were really honest with each other. Mr. Perfect told me about his past, his heartbreaks, his intentions and what he wanted for the future, and I did the same.

It was refreshing. I usually shut down at the start of any talk about feelings or “let’s talk about it” kind of deal, but with him I didn’t feel the need to keep that wall up. He broke down every wall I’ve always had without making me feel vulnerable.

He texted me daily, and I even met his friends and beloved pup. Things were going so well that my recent heartbreak was barely a memory, let alone painful.

Yet all good things must come to an end, as they say.

So I remember a day where we didn’t text for once. I’m not the type that feels the need to talk to someone at all times of the day, so it didn’t bother me. Another day goes by and I decided to reach out. The conversation was short, unlike previous messages.

I knew something was happening, and I knew to get ready to probably throw in the towel.

After a few days of this, I stopped hearing from him at all for about a week. It surprisingly wasn’t as upsetting as I thought it would be, mostly because I saw it coming.

A few more days go by, and as I’m watching Netflix one night, I get a long message from Mr. Perfect himself. To maintain his privacy, I’ll just summarize the gist of it and say that he had a personal issue that needed to be taken care of. He was dealing with a lot. It was time consuming, and he just couldn’t give me the time that he thought I deserved.

Was I bummed? Fuck yeah I was. He was amazing. His laugh was incredibly sexy, he was intelligent, he loved books as much as I do and he was one of the most respectful guys I’ve ever dated.

I told him I understood and that if he needed any help or support, he could reach me. I knew he mostly just wanted space.

We spoke briefly a few more times. He assured me that I had no part in him needing his space, and things ended amicably.

In fact, we even spoke briefly this month.

I honestly have no hard feelings about this at all. He was a refreshing break from all the other guys I had previously met (literally read any other blog post on here).

So although this didn’t become something more, it showed me everything I wanted to see.

And for that, I’m grateful.

Love,

The Girl With a Heart on Her Middle Finger

 

 

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