The Return of Rebound Babe

I wake up this morning to a tickle of a beard running up the middle of my back which ends in a gentle kiss on my neck.  Blink.  Why is it so bright in here?  Blink.  I then feel him press his warm body against mine. Blink. Blink.  What happened last night? I realize I’m naked and turn around to face Rebound Babe. Kissing continues as we go in for another round.

The memories of the night prior finally begin to make their way back into my head.  I told myself that this shouldn’t happen again.  And I was very solid in my decision that it wouldn’t happen.  Yet here we are again. Rebound Babe and I have known each other for a few years.  We dated once, and it was shortly after he had ended his long term relationship.  I knew that I was just his rebound babe.  I should have known better getting my emotions involved knowing that he just ended a relationship.  I mean, honestly, where could it really go? But after a few months of what I thought was building a relationship, he suddenly ghosted. I just didn’t get it.  We took a little weekend getaway and when we got back, he was gone. My heart was crushed.

Since he was part of a circle of friends I had, I would randomly run into him, he/I would reciprocate likes on Instagram, or show up at the same shows and concerts throughout the years.  I also found out that he got back with his girlfriend, so I guess it all makes sense.  Then a few years later, after I ended a relationship, I found out that Rebound Babe broke up with his girlfriend again.  So I reached out, and this time, he became my rebound babe.  So he started showing up at my bar, and we almost picked up right where we left off.  That time though, I think WE BOTH knew what it was… companionship and sex.  And that was it.  I went my own way eventually and so did he.  Shortly after, I heard that he proposed to his ex-girlfriend.  So I stopped communication out of respect for their relationship, and this was also around the time that I met #whiteboy.

It’s almost as if there’s a signal that’s let out to all the Ghosts of Our Ex-Fucks the moment you’re single again.  However, for whatever reason this time we both just so happened to end out relationships again at the same time.  It started with an increase of likes on my Instagram posts, which turned into comments, which turned into DMs.  I knew all too quickly where this was going.  He then asks to take me out for dinner, which I declined.  I tell him that I was open to hanging out with him as a friend and nothing more.  I didn’t like our track record of every time we had an empty moment, we were back in each others arms and beds.  We have similar interests, enjoy the same music and always have a good time with one another. So what’s the harm in just being friends, right? Who knows, maybe we are finally on the same wavelength because he actually agrees with my terms.

We make plans this weekend to go to a show. Since I was adamant on keeping us completely platonic this time, I invite EasyBreezy to come to the show with us.  The 3 of us bop all around town with drinks always in hand.  Ending the evening at my favorite dance spot where we all continue to dance the night away with even more drinks. He’s an absolute gentleman who holds open doors for my girlfriend and I; he won’t let us pay for anything for the entire evening (which was completely unnecessary); gives me all the space to cut a rug and battle it out with ReRun; and in a perfect moment knows when to pop in and dance close.  The memories of how easy it is to hang out with him start to creep in as my booze-filled eyes start to gaze at him in a familiar lighting.  And now, the next thing I know is we are in bed, naked.

There’s something so soothing and comfortable being around Rebound Babe.  He carries himself with this humble confidence that I feel like makes him all the more sexy. He’s a musician, with a beard, and a big dick.  What’s not to love?  We roll around in the sheets and switching from big spoon, little spoon, and being completely intertwined dozing in and out of sleep throughout the day.  He lightly kisses each of my eyelids to wake me up and whispers to me, “Open those eyes, I want to see all of your beauty.”  He always knows the right things to say, which I’d like to believe isn’t him spitting game.  It could be my naivete,  my blissful ignorance that allows me to think this way, or that the oxytocin has now clouded my judgement.  But I really don’t care.  I’ve been so neglected for all these years, that I am going to soak up whatever love and attention comes my way.  And right now coming this way, is Round 4.

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