You know how they say that people need to have a rebound after a relationship, to get their mind of things and get used to being single and back in the market? Well, what happens if you fall in love with your rebound? Or at least you think you’ve fallen in love with your rebound… when do people stop becoming rebounds and start becoming lovers?
Mr. Muscles and I dated for 4 years. We had moved in together, talked about marriage, in the end, he dumped me and I was devastated. I was as heartbroken as heartbroken could be, this time I knew I couldn’t get him back. Then “Lawrence” came along. I would really like to name him douche or asshat (a little prophetic foreshadowing) but I think I would confuse my viewers by his many names, so I’ll use an actual name to keep things straight.
Lawrence and I had been friends since we were kids, and I knew from day one he had “fallen in love with me”. I thought he was attractive, but he was heavy into drinking and drugs as a teen and I dind’t really want to be associated with that, not to mention we were both never single at the same time. We had talked about dating and even hooking up (remember that 2 week “break” in university?) but it had never happened.
Anyway, Mr. Muscles and I had split up, and Lawrence and I start chatting online, he wanted me to come over and “watch a movie”. (Yeah, smooth buddy, like I really think you just want to “watch a movie”.) Anyway, so I did, and I think we maybe kissed, and that was that. I was lonely, heartbroken, he was hot, and he opened doors for me and kissed my hand and bought me flowers… it was the kind of company I wanted after being thrown out the door and stomped on in the mud.
He knew how important Mr. Muscles was to me, and irritatedly sat there while I cried over him, while constantly reminding me what a jerk he was for dumping me, and that HE was the one for me, that he had loved me since we were kids, and he would treat me like a queen and worship the ground I walked on and the pedestal I stood on.
What a schmoozer.
I fell for it.
It wasn’t without consequence though. I was still calling Mr. Muscles, trying to see him, trying to be his friend, constantly struggling with ditching Lawrence and making a go again with Mr. Muscles. He didn’t want anything more than to be just friends though, but I saw the tears in his eyes when we said goodnight, and he held me tight like he used to when we hugged. Eventually he kissed me, and it was so sweet. I didn’t want it to end, I wanted to go back to him, but I was still so hurt that he had left me, and Lawrence was going above and beyond what anyone else had for me before.
This was in December. Lawrence had already told me he had bought me a ring, and was going to propose “soon”. Lawrence and I had a whirlwind romance, which I know now that I was just on the rebound, and the only reason why he was proposing at all was so that I wouldn’t go back to Mr. Muscles. (insert profanity here)
Mr. Muscles asked me to run away with him. He was moving across the country in January, he told me he loved me and he made a mistake and wanted to be with me. He asked me to leave Lawrence, my friends, my family, my job, to go be with him forever.
The only reason I didn’t was because I was scared. I was afraid of what my parents would say, afraid of leaving everything I had known for 21 years, afraid of not being able to find work or make any money… I was being logical and listening to my head (though I suppose you can hardly call fear a logical thing) when for once in my life, I should have listened to my heart.
I loved Mr. Muscles, and I know I say the word “love” quite freely, though even now in my current life I am happy with who I’m with, deep down he is still the one who got away. I still love him deep inside and I don’t think I’ll ever stop, and it’s been almost 7 years.
If I have any regrets from the time I dated Lawrence, it was not leaving him for Mr. Muscles. I cried and cried and cried and told him I couldn’t. Mr. Muscles moved away, and in February, Lawrence and I were engaged.