“Rebound bae?” You say.
You are Rebound Bae.
Let me break it down for you real quick for your understanding.
Him and I were together for 5 years. In that period, we built a life together.
We always wrapped ourselves around each other until we settled into deep sleep.
We watched cartoons together and laughed until our stomachs hurt.
We promised each other to travel the 7 continents, hand in hand, until we were old and grey.
We were supposed to go through the ebb and flow of life together.
We were supposed to make vows in the presence of God, family and friends to be with each other until death do us apart.
Death clearly came early to rip us apart.
His heart stopped beating for me.
Even though he wept bitterly for the demise of our love, he refused to partner with me to fight for us.
And so I left with the broken promises, with dreams of a love story and family that would never come to pass and with a shattered heart in my hand.
Didn’t you know that the speed in which a man moves from a breakup to a new attachment is directly proportional to the pain he’s feeling?
And here you are, a mere 2 weeks after our separation and you believe he loves you?
Well, he loves you as much as a depressed person loves Valium.
He’s consuming anything that will distract him from his pain and sense of failure. All you are to him is a faux sense of control, a fizzy drink that quenches the thirst for a moment, but leaves him dehydrated later.
You might not realize the immense impact I had on his life now while you’re still on your high of having him, but soon it will dawn on you that you can’t mount your lips on his and tenderly caress his dick without him wishing it was me.
You only make him mourn me more.
I don’t blame you for falling for him though.
He’s phly as fuck. He has a symmetrical face that’s decorated with a shapely rough and rugged beard, and large brown eyes.
His deep voice has the effect of a full body massage after a stressful week at work.
He walks into a room and everyone instantly turns to gaze on him. When he speaks, he turns his listeners into putty in his hands.
Conversations with him are always enlightening and entertaining. He’s like Google personified, with a double shot of charisma.
From road-tripping to the outskirts of Johannesburg to Netflix and chill, there’s never a dull moment with him.
He’s your personal doctor when you’re sick, and is quick to offer a hand when you need help.
He will be the prism that disperses a million beautiful hues of color, until the light gives way to darkness.
When that happens…
Don’t you dare replace “we” with “I”, in the same manner that he does. His ego is too fragile to realize that your aspirations and thoughts matter as much as his.
He always has to be the captain of the ship. If you don’t let him, beware as he will slowly slither away from you.
And he’ll never let you know.
You’ll simply wake up one morning to note left on his pillow that reads “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
But before his escape from you, he will have prepared his safe house. This place takes the form a woman that puffs up his mane while celebrating the best foot that he’s putting forward.
I’m sure you’re loving all the attention and affection he’s giving you, but don’t be deceived.
You’re just a temporary measure the heartache he feels, a temporary distraction that he’s using to escape from dealing with our breakup and all his bullshit.
You can’t move into a storm-battered house and make yourself comfortable.
Remember that as you bask in the glory of your temporary ever after.
*image from Pexels.