As anyone who has read anything I’ve written over the last four years will attest, I’ve wasted plenty of time on dudes, the lucky few having stolen been incidentally bequeathed years of uncompensated pining for and contemplation of. So maybe I didn’t need to dream about Henry Fredrick and what could have been for those two years between 2006 and 2008. And I probably should have shaved off most of the three years I recently dedicated to Mr. Peter O’Reilly, half-living like a zombie girl in the wake of emotional disaster. But, as the saying goes, for every dark, thunderous cloud taking down passing planes, there be a silver lining! Like a dumb little dog, I have finally, finally been whip trained into a mutt capable of a speedy break-up recovery. Let’s face it: I’m almost thirty; I really don’t have years to waste on ghosts anymore.
For those of you out there who believe in the reliable utilization of rebounds, that doesn’t count. The using of another innocent human being to assuage your own heartbreak is known to be an effective cure from the common sob fest. Letting some poor schmuck lavish you with kisses and compliments just so you can briefly forget that moment your boyfriend looked over at you a few weeks ago and asked you to move out is sure to make you feel better. For the time being. But you’ll certainly pay for these rebounds in different, perhaps more karmic ways. My first and only experience with this type of relationship was with an aggressive alpha male who, bless him, loved me so much he cursed me at our end. “No one will love you as much as I love you,” he told me, which in the four years since, his prophecy has proven correct. A pox on my house, indeed!
So here’s my list. Some advice to get over the guy who didn’t like you that much to begin with. Because that’s the truth, ladies: When he likes you, you know. When he doesn’t, you fall asleep wondering. It’s that simple. So don’t act so surprised when it ends.
Herewith, a guide to the 48-hour rebound:
No Sad Music. I’m Serious.
I know, I know. That Coldplay song just really speaks to you right now, and it speaks to you best when you play it on loop, crying for hours while you memorize every lyric that Chris Martin seemingly wrote just for you, knowing this moment in your life would come. Chuck the sad stuff for brighter days. Right now you need Britney Spears — even if you hate Britney Spears. I don’t care.
Remember all those hobbies and passions you ignored while you were living in Lustland? Yeah, that’s your life and you should be punished for neglecting it. These men might come and go but everything else remains, provided you tend to it like an avid gardener. Your life is not a building made of stone that you can entrust to weather storms while you’re away on a vacay. No, your life is like a living thing that you have to take care of, lest you return to find everything has withered in your absence.
On That Note… Friends
Friends. These are the people who don’t play games with you, the people who invite you to birthday parties without freaking out that it might “give you the wrong idea,” the people who love you unconditionally and don’t care that you haven’t curled your hair that day… or, like, ever. Unlike the aforementioned hobbies and passions, this particular group is more sensitive to your falling off the grid. It’s time to revisit them. Better yet, don’t fall off the grid to begin with.
A Full Calendar is a Full Mind
An idle brain is the devil’s workshop. Pencil so many people and so many things into your life you forget why you were trying to stay so busy to begin with.
Take a Trip
Okay, so this, like rebounding, is kind of a cheat. In getting away, you are running away, which is only ever a temporary solution. (Unless, of course, you permanently relocate to Berlin or Mexico City, a wise choice IMHO.) To drag yourself out of the just-got-dumped doldrums, change the scenery. Go drink a Mai Thai on a beach somewhere, preferably staffed with attractive, married cabana boys – nice to look at, but totally unavailable. Because you are not allowed to hop back on that horse yet, my friend. You’ve got some growing up to do. On your own.