Dear Rebound Girl,

I’ve started dating this girl that always brushes her teeth before we kiss, even if we are at a bar. She’s a really good kisser but it’s kinda weird. I’m afraid to ask my friends for advice on this one, girls or guys. How do I bring up this excessive hygiene and lack of spontaneity?

-       Tim

Dear Minty Fresh,

There are always things that are hard to bring up with friends. I have to pick and choose who I kiss-and-tell to, whom I cry a river to, and who I dance with in my kitchen. There are some friends who fall into all three categories, and there are a select few that I also share a bed with.  There was only one, however, that I shared a sexiversary with for years.

Yes, years.  

Now dear readers, there are no steadfast rules on how you celebrate a sexiversary, but he and I had agreed on the three S’s. There must be an element of spontaneity, there must be surprise… and there must be sex, a lot of it. One sexiversary involved catapults. No, not cats and rubber bands, I’m talking actual catapults. It wasn’t fifty shades of S&M, but I’ll let you use your imagination. So while there is planning involved with a sexiversary, it can be more of a jumping off point, (that time, literally). Soon after, we enjoyed each other off the beaten path…

A note about a true sexiversary for those new to the term. Unlike an anniversary, it’s not an annual event. He and I would summon a sexiversary when we were both simultaneously rebounding hardcore, and in my case, often from other rebounds. Now, we didn’t just summon a sexiversary to have an excuse to have sex with each other, nor did we lie about our pain. Instead we’d kiss-and-tell in great detail. We’d share proof that the latest “end of the affair” had been so devastating that a more extreme recovery was called for. Unfortunately dear readers, there came a time when I needed a rebound from rebounding on him.

What happened, you inquire?

Quite simply, he lied, quite elaborately. There was a reason why we never truly dated. Actually, there were several reasons. He didn’t have a track record for betrayal so this left me surprised and more vulnerable than usual because, sigh…I had let my guard down with him. I had trusted him.

I wouldn’t learn about his deception until much later, (thanks to google alerts), so my rebound from him was a delayed event, and thus much crueler with the revelation. No, he wasn’t rebounding during what would be our final sexiversary, rather, he was in love. In fact, it seems he had finally met his soul mate. His girlfriend, then fiancé, now wife, had helped come up with the idea. Also in on the plan were his friends, her friends, her boss, co-workers, two brothers, sister, dear old dad, and yes, even her Auntie Joan, (not her mother, may she rest in peace.)  As part of the charade, he shared with me their voicemails, emails, and posted messages, verifying the demise of said relationship. Why did they do this? Because I was to be his bachelor party, his last hurrah. Granted, I’ve been others’ final passionate foray before the big day, but this took the cake, the cherry pie, the whole damn bakery. Now the events of that sexy sexiversary involving a Swedish Chef and a Roman bath leave a bitter taste in my mouth.  As a souvenir, he didn’t take a pair of panties, which is a common, yet prized trophy, he took my toothbrush.

My toothbrush.

Are my bristles still caressing his enamel, or worse, his wife’s pearly whites?  Perhaps they use it to clean Junior’s crayons off the wall.

I’m not always honest, but I do advocate honesty. Is honesty always the best policy, hell no. But honestly, MF, if I was that girl, (and maybe I am), who is brushing her teeth before my lips and tongue touch yours, there’s a good chance that I could be coming off of a particularly poor rebound. My advice to you is to kindly tell me not to worry so much and prove that you want to taste the real me.

Until we meet again,