When I broke up with my ex about a month ago, I was determined to rebound as quickly as possible. No wallowing this time; it was over and I was moving on.
It was almost too convenient that I was presented with an immediate distraction. Jack was someone I’d known for years; we were never super close, but he’s part of a circle of friends I’ve known since high school. I’d lusted after him for years, too. About four years ago, I even asked my boyfriend at the time permission to make out with Jack, just to “get it out of my system.” My boyfriend said “no,” alas, and so the pining continued. The timing had just never been right.
Until now. Keep reading »
Once upon a time I met a guy at a bar I totally clicked with. He was sexy, smart, ambitious, well-dressed, and single. In fact, we were both just a few months out of relationships and looking to date around. The big difference between us, though, was that he had remained close with his ex, and I, while having broken up with mine amicably, didn’t feel the need to keep him in my life past the occasional email or phone call. Now, this guy we’ll call Matt tried to explain to me it wasn’t a big deal that he was friends with his ex, and for a while I believed him. They were both finishing up med school at the same place, after all, and had some classes together and a lot of mutual friends. But as time went on and he and I became exclusive, it became more and more obvious to me that we weren’t actually the only two people in our relationship. His ex, however “harmless” he said she was, seemed to always be lingering right on the edge of, if not actually wedged right between, us. Keep reading »
There will be some point in your career as a 20-something when someone will break your heart, and bad. By bad I mean, you may think you’re having a nervous breakdown and will have the desire to be hospitalized. In some cases, this actually may happen. Here’s how to deal:
Suck it up: When I was crying at my desk, my older, married co-worker sat down and looked me straight in my tear-stained eyes and said, “You have to understand, this guy might be one of a bunch of different guys you will date until you find someone who’s really in it to win it,” he said. Putting this person who had just knocked me on my ass within the context of a long line of potential douche bags down the road somehow made it hurt a bit less. Keep reading »
Jon and Kate Gosselin announced their split less than a month ago, and Jon certainly didn’t waste any time getting with a new girl. Meanwhile, Kate continues to wear her wedding band. Is Jon cruel for moving on so fast, or is Kate just slow at accepting the fact that her marriage is over? This got us thinking about our rules for rebounding the right way. Keep reading »
I am almost — oh hell, really — ready for my first post-heartbreaking split rebound. Some are surprised I’ve ever waited this long, but, frankly, I’m nervous about even kissing someone new, let alone, um, other stuff. Vaguely excited though too — I was, after all, going to go the rest of my life only being with the same person (which was fine by me!) but there is something oh so thrilling about the unknown. That said, unless you have a heart made of pure steel, the rebound requires much caution — the last thing you want is to A) end up falling in love so soon again, B) have someone fall in love with you, or C) cause further life drama. After the jump, five of the safest — but still exciting! — rebound types… Keep reading »
I’m going to come right out and cop to this—I have been dumped more times than I can count. You’d think that after the 5,234th time, I’d be a tad more resilient, but nah. I have mourned certain dead relationships for longer than they went on in the first place and made an idiot of myself over men so patently unworthy, it’s a wonder I haven’t had my feminist card revoked. Lucky for everyone within sobbing distance, I haven’t been dumped in a while, but as a public service I figured I’d share my mistakes so you can learn from them, after the jump… Keep reading »
After a bad break-up, I hid in my room for a while listening to Beck’s sad Sea Change, clutching my childhood stuffed animal, Muffin, wondering what I did wrong. But after the obligatory period of self-pity, I was ready to move into phase two: the drunken rebound. My newfound freedom had me wanting some free love! So I rounded up my lady friends, put on my please f*** me pumps, and went out just to get back out there.
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