A Love Letter From The Rebound Champion of Oakland, California

He’s done with her, so here he is with me. And I can only imagine what she would think if she knew that he was here with me. What would she say if she knew that after she had kicked him to the curb, he came crawling to me?  Me, and I am so everything that I can be, sitting here sultry with this drink in my hand, grinning girlishly with this pussy throbbing brightly between my legs. What would she say if she saw him sitting there, telling me all about what happened between the two of them, and me, silently calculating exactly how I’m going to get everything that I want out of him. He’s not going to give it to me because what he doesn’t know as he’s sitting here, attempting to rebound, is that ultimately he’s going to go back to her. I can already tell based on everything that he says about her that even though she isn’t good for him, and even though things didn’t work out, and even though he would never in a million years be her boyfriend – he’s already so comfortably couched in the memory of her that it doesn’t matter how hot or funny or pretty I am. He will go back to her, but before he does that I’m going to cash in on someone else’s leftovers for free drinks and free food and sex and a little bit of companionship. I can’t tell him quite yet that he’s come to right place for an emotionally unattached rebound with someone who will not be hurt when he leaves and was excited to see him come. I’m the person who will hold him while he fucks someone who isn’t her but still thinks about her while doing it. It doesn’t hurt my feelings that this will never be anything more than the two of us mutually cashing out our emotional issues with the currency of sex and alcohol. This is just what it is.

And I wonder how much it would hurt her to know that this is what we’re doing, even as we both push it under the guise of pretending that we’re going to jump into a relationship about right now. I know that there’s something awful inside me because I would like to see the hurt on her face when she sees me talking to him at the bar, which is strange mostly because I have no idea what her face looks like. I have no idea who she is. All I know is that she used to fuck the guy that I’m going to fuck later tonight. She’ll fuck him again at some point in the future, but she’s not fucking him now, and right now is the only thing that I have so it’s the only thing that matters.