She was home.
She decided she needed some time, despite having gained perspective and accepted the break up. She needed to pick up the pieces, and reassemble them into something whole so she declared a Man-Hiatus, or Maniatus for short.
She filled her time with work, with books, with movies and friends. With Sex & the City episodes and 2-for-1 martinis.
She didn’t go out much on the weekends, and when she did, she stayed huddled in the circle of friends she came with. She as afraid to branch out. She was afraid to stop the progress of working on rebuilding herself.
It was positive. And positively tragic… Until she met O.
Her night began assembling an outfit inspired by Madonna for Halloween. With leggings, three too many pairs of legwarmers, an oversized t-shirt, and numerous vodka sodas, she was feeling invincible. She went out with friends with no intentions of meeting anyone. Just some lighthearted flirting – this was maniatus time after all.
After a bottle of Prosecco, some old school jams (read: Jodeci), a house party that came to a rousing end with a visit from the police, more drinks, a cab ride downtown, then back uptown, and then an open tab at a bar where Miley Cirus played more than Beyonce… she was feeling ready(?).
She’d just finished doing the running man in a circle of random people when she noticed a man at the bar starring at her with a smirk.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” she slurred through the cocktails.
“I’m just admiring the view” … maniatus was officially over.
O was everything she needed. An extra large chunk of muscle that loved to cuddle and coddle. He was sweet, though not necessarily smart, but he as a model so it was okay. She couldn’t go anywhere without receiving a text asking how her day was. She was beaming… And ignoring the unfortunate bits.
She wasn’t looking for more than he was offering, and she used him to regain her comfort spending time with men. But with every use of the word “baby” and “honey” and “sweetie” she was falling further and further in to the vortex called rebound.
Until one morning he attempted a real conversation that began and ended with one phrase from him: Did you really read ALL those books?
She glanced at her bookshelf, which housed only a small selection of her recently read pieces of literature and mumbled something quickly about having a brunch date and that he should go.
She never saw him again.