Currently Chasing: The Rebound

Up for the REBOUND, REBOUND, REBOUND, up for the REBOUND, let’s go!

In high school it was a cheer for basketball. In my adult life, it’s a daily affirmation. You’ve always got to be up for the rebound.

I have to make a confession here. In my life, there are very few times when I’ve ever been truly single. I mean, of course there were tons of times when I haven’t had a boyfriend. But there are few times when I’m left without someone to text, call, email or send a picture message to. I’ve been rebounding since I broke up with Abel back in 6^th grade.

The process has been endless. I literally just started to make a list of people I’ve used to get over other people and as it turns out I would have had to make a list of lists. I’m a rebounder. Every single relationship I’ve ever been in has been a rebound. I’m clearly not clear on the point of a rebound.

Thank God for a friend of mine who blogged recently about the true definition of a rebound (and made this incredibly awesome chart.) Turns out I have been doing it all wrong. You are not supposed to fall in love with a rebound. You kind of aren’t even really supposed to like a rebound. They have a very specific purpose. They are purely there to get you over a hump.

I’m not alone here. I’m like a lot of girls who feel like it’s not possible to break up with a guy who is ‘just barely meeting the standard’ until you have another guy who is ‘just barely meeting the standard’ but to a slightly higher degree. Instead, we should simply be walking away from these relationships. Not walking toward something that’s barely better.

Like … “Ok, are you sure you want me? Because I’m about to break up with my boyfriend, but only if you promise that you want me. Otherwise, I’m staying with this guy who doesn’t know I exist and hates my kids.”

So technically right now I am single. Or widowed if you checked my relationship status on Facebook (yes, he’s dead to me.) And for the past week and a half or so, I’ve been ‘widowed.’ There wasn’t someone waiting in the wings in case it didn’t work out. There wasn’t someone else I would have rather have been with. There was just him. All my eggs in one basket. All of them rotting without my knowledge. This is a new feeling for me. And this would be a perfect time for a rebound.

Someone temporary. Someone I won’t end up falling in love with. The problem is, for me, THAT IS FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE. I once went to Cancun, Mexico for a week. On the first day I met a guy at the bar. He was leaving the next day. We had an incredible time together, exchanged numbers, planned to visit each other, and I spent the rest of the week writing him letters about how much I missed him. That’s not me rebounding. That’s me being insane.

I remember every single hook up I’ve ever had. No matter how casual. And none of them have felt like rebounds. They have all felt like legitimate attempts at having a relationship. I guess in the end, even though I could use a rebound (in its rawest form) they kind of seem like a waste of time. Because I know myself, and I’m going to need a fucking rebound to get me over my damn rebound.

Or maybe my friend isn’t exactly right-on with her definition of a rebound. When was the last time someone threw up a shot, missed, caught the rebound, and then just tossed the ball out of bounds? Never. You catch the rebound and immediately take another shot with it. Maybe that shot will be the swish you were hoping for. And if that next shot happens to hit the rim as well, maybe you just shouldn’t get up for the rebound.