Channeling Dennis Rodman

Get it?

Rebound.

I started into the new thing without knowing what I was doing, or why--I just knew that it was what I wanted. It was what I wanted more than anything. It transported me away from the pain of losing K, even if losing him had been my choice. It helped me ignore my all-consuming, soul-trembling fear of being alone. And he turned me on like I hadn't been turned on in years. Like an idea, babe--like an atom bomb. He reminded me that feeling that way existed.

And then it went, oh--so wrong.

I don't really even know what happened. One minute it was there, the next minute it was gone. I expected him to behave like K--pliable, compliant, willing to be handled--even though the reason I was attracted to him in the first place was because he was none of those things. And the more he failed to behave like that, the more frustrated I got. The panic began to build. I began to cling.

And he ran. Like Jesse Owen, like Carl Lewis, like Jackie Joyner Kersey. Off like a damn shot.

It was the right thing. I got my rebound, and the ball is back in my hands.