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Archive for June, 2008

There’s a time in life when things just work out and conform to every chick flick, chick lit and chick shit cliché and you find yourself living the quintessential rebound scenario – the one that is supposed to be so bad for you, but temporarily feels so right; when all odds conspire to make life shite and difficult, you throw caution to the wind and embark on what should be the most disastrous relationship ever, and it works out just right.

I’ve been musing on the concept of a “prebound”, in perfect opposition to the rebound, ie: the seemingly mature and adult relationship where you discuss living together and babies vs abortion and validate marriage for more logical reasons than love. From my vast uncredited study in the pop culture and economy of woman, I’ve deduced that a protagonist is required to have one solid and ultimately failed relationship (the prebound) before she unexpectedly (and somewhat reluctantly) submits to the wisdom of the eccentric aunt, marginalised sassy black bff and harassed mother of pooping toddlers and realises that what she was looking for was there all along. Such is life.

So, I’d like to say to my ex: thank you. You were a fucking arse, but at least I realised that what I wanted was waiting for me; he was here all the time – it just took you to make me see that I deserved better, and that I deserved Schmoo. In a way, you gave me the world by testing me, trying my heart and making me understand that what I believed was inevitable in life is actually a total farce. Loving someone is not meant to be a trial or battle of patience and forgiveness, it’s supposed to be fucking awesome. And it is.

Every single moment I am with Schmoo I want to be there, and every second he sleeps by my side is the most perfect, encapsulated and linked in a never ending sequence of inhales, exhales. No more the fear that sleep is an escape from reality and present company. Maybe I would have found this eventually, maybe one day in some unknown future. All I know right now is that without the emotional suckass of that prebound, I might never have known this happiness that sleeps next to me tonight. If a prebound and all the attending bullshit is necessary to be sure that in the here and now, even midnight flatulence (his, please) is going to make me laugh as I drift off to sleep, I’ll wager it’s worth it. It’s time for me to not feel bad for what was supposed to be, and go to bed smiling because this is the way it is.

And I will wake him up in a bit and whisper in his ear and we’ll shuffle off down the hall and fall out of our clothes and tumble asleep, knowing that tomorrow will always be sunshine.

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