I’m the rebound girl.
I’m the girl who got him laid after his marriage fell apart.
I’m the girl who was fun and friendly and flirty after his wife was depressed, cold, and distant.
I’m the girl who said “yes” a lot and hardly ever said “no.”
I’m the girl who bent over the kitchen counter and got down on her knees, eagerly.
That’s me. I’m the rebound girl.
The minute he was reminded of the pain a relationship can bring—insecurities, sadness, vulnerability—I found myself confronted with a black shoebox, carried through the snow. Instantaneously.
The rebound fun was over. The real stuff had begun.
Nobody wants that in a rebound girl. She should be on her knees, in a skirt, happy to see you and always willing.
Now I’m the heartbreak girl. Not wearing sexy panties girl. On edge, not sleeping girl.
The stupid, naive, How on earth did this happen again girl.