December 28, 2011 § 136 Comments
[Little Preface before the Rant begins: you will note something new to the blog below, namely, in its midst, a link! I am very excited because a younger and savvier and generally cleverer and more beautiful member of my family taught me how to do this only yesterday. Gorgeous happily married person that she is! Hoorah! I am a techie slow-coach to be sure but I am happily learning, and there will doubtless be more larky links to come).
So, anyway, the Rant begins:
I have a good friend who found herself with someone just three months after she and her husband separated. It was some years ago now and she and her “new” partner are still happily together, so anyone who might have had dubious cause to make poncy and disapproving whispers of “rebound” can bog right off. Tra la! This pair are fab. He has supported her through thick and thin, or at the very least been there. Wow! That’s winning the goddamn lottery in my book. If I had had… agh, forget it. Anyway, they just gave a tremendous party together, with smoked salmon sandwiches and attendant yetis (his and hers and others besides), the drinks thing I went to before the dinner party where I met the man with the stewed rhubarb (I think I said Victoria plums originally, but on reflection have decided stewed rhubarb is more accurate a description) complexion. I call giving a party together a pretty sure sign that things are a good deal more solid than shaky, bouncy, runty Rebound, no? Quite so. I’ve had it with Rebound.
Jesus, some of us could have done with a bit of it at the time. I’d have given quite a lot for any bloody Rebound but during the supposed Rebound period, there came there Rebound none. Anyway, how long is Rebound? Some people seem really to be able to stretch my Rebound credulity. One year in, people were saying to me, “Ooh, ahh, it’s way too soon, you shouldn’t be thinking about anyone new for a very long time yet. Sort yourself out, get back on your own two feet [who’s feet do they suppose I was ever on but my own tragically be-bunioned versions?]; make sure you are happy in yourself [blearghh!], and only then should you start thinking of a new relationship!” I grudgingly granted them their twelve months’ worth, because it seemed to make them happy, even if I did think they were full of shit.
Two years in: ditto. Out they came with the same old chestnut. But I could even allow them a couple of years; just with a tad more grudging and thinking them that much more full of shit.
Then three years in, this gem: “Never you worry. It’s still early days…”
What can I say? I lost my patience.
No, matey, early fucking days is when you are in a relationship and you fuck off with someone else. That’s early fucking days. Three years on your own is not early fucking days, it’s not even Rebound, no, it’s rusting old trampolene that has completely lost its spring and is in a broken heap on a skip, no Rebound about it, in fact the whole notion of Rebound and that specific trampolene are like some kind of perverted joke; it could rebound no more than an old tart’s twat. And I am more than three years in since the shit hit the marital fan. Lost count. But I am way past Early Days, I can tell you. Rebound’s back there with King Alfred and his sodding cakes, but Early Days ain’t much further on, Early Days is still no further on in fact than the Tudor period, cavorting with Henry V111, and some could even argue – when people jump ship before they’ve even officially jumped, if you get my meaning – Early Days are even behind Rebound in the grand scheme of things, and then ED are actually B bloody C.
I look at Mr and Mrs Party-Giving Rebounds and I think, Roll On Rebounds! Good on them! Huge admiration and respect for and joy to them. Naysayers nemesis. May they live happily ever after. Would that I had found my own Rebound, but no such bloody luck. I look at several couples who were a serious case of Early Days – they cheated on their first spouses – and they are still ding dong merrily on fucking high.
I don’t give a fig for Rebound or Early Days. They passed me by even though I was well up for either of them. One or the other of them could have come up from behind and bound and gagged me and I would have given them a whirl. But bearing in mind neither bothered, I won’t hold it against them, though that is not to say I wouldn’t be happy with Any Day Fucking Soon.