“But it turns out there is: being told you’re the rebound girl. Suddenly you can’t blame the gut feeling on your paranoia or lack of self-esteem. Your inferior status as someone who will never live up to the person the guy really loves is validated—by the guy himself. That was my Thursday night. I went home with the rebound. It didn’t matter that his apartment was exactly the sort of thing a chick-lit hero would have, because I wasn’t a chick-lit heroine. My romcom was more American Pie than... Love Actually and my one-night stand only took me home because it seemed more enjoyable than stalking his ex. I let him do this. Now I am forced to face the reality that I may be mentally deranged. Why else would I convince—nay, command—the guy watching his ex dance with a bunch of men to take me home instead? I suppose I was using him too. I really wanted a wild night with a hot man while my friends went home with his friends.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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