The rebound

Let me tell you a story.

A few years ago, when I decided to leave my marriage, and move to Portland, I met someone. They were the first new person I talked to, the first I met in person. We were both in the slow process of getting divorced, we were about the same age. There was very little else we had in common.

We were each other's rebound.

I want to say very firmly here that the rebound as a concept is not bad. I do not use is as a denigration of the social ties we had with one another. This is also not a post facto realization- we talked about whether we were in a rebound quite often, it was a key part of when we were not trauma bonding and instead talked about us.

The rebound gets a bad rap because it objectifies whoever is at the other end. We deny the stark terms that a lot of relationships, intimate and social, are rooted in matters beyond another human being with feelings and aspirations. Think of any time you learned a life lesson from someone. Then think about how often that life lesson was most of why you remember this person and the totality of the memories that remain. The thing I tried to do, and was unable to, was go in with the idea that this was about another person. I feel guilt about it, there are months of therapy where I talked about almost nothing else besides this person. I tried.

I tried, but it wasn't realistic. The rebound is a mechanical thing. We often talked about language, about how to describe us - intimate friends, regular friends, probationary partners? In therapy language and among Instagram accounts that give bad advice, this would be a situationship. It's overused (along with empath and gaslighting): It is also completely correct in this case. Though different labels doesn't make something not a rebound, it's done through everyday actions.

When people come to me with romantic woes, the solution is inevitably "say what you just said to me, word for word, to the person you're frustrated about." That is true. Talk about what's bothering you, lest it become a nest of grievances. I didn't take my own advice.

We had a lot of trauma to talk about, we also didn't have friends we could get fully vulnerable with, at least for more than a short conversation. However, trauma was most of what we had to say. They talked more, I listened more. I became very good at a certain type of listening.

Despite the heaviness, and their temper and sporadic cruelty, I had never felt more adept at giving space and being present. My sole superpower is that I listen to people when they tell me things, in the (often false) idea that what people direct at me is important. Why else would they say it?

They moved on and got into a proper relationship. I was very sad for a while. We stayed on as friends, they cut me off when their new partner got insecure due to our history. We tried again a few months later, same ending. This summer we did it one more time. I didn't trust them, our conversations were polite but not especially interesting. The magic was gone, we had both moved on. That's a good thing.

They sent a vicious text message a couple months back, and told me to delete their number. I didn't do that, they're free to message any time. I have a message saved:

I'm glad to hear from you, I will always remember you.

You hurt me, like the people before. I had expectations for you and you met them in the end. I assumed you would leave and you did.

Such is the way of the rebound.

Artemis