The Trampoline Boy

For those of you unfamiliar with the term, a trampoline boy is that guy that helps you bounce back after a particularly nasty break-up.

Think of it as a rebound relationship without the delusion of commitment, regular mind-blowing sex without strings and partnering without possession.

Unlike a rebound relationship, your trampoline boy isn't there to play the part of the lost lover and no one pretends that it's forever. He's there to make you feel fabulous and forget the troll that hurt you.

It's not replacement therapy; it's sex therapy with a friend.

But, for every up, there is a down. In the case of the trampoline boy, that down is not knowing exactly when to stop playing. Forgetting your exit strategy in other words.

You see, there's a point at which your trampoline boy will become a cock blocker.

Allow me to illustrate.

The Don became my trampoline boy about two years ago. For a few months, we were inseparable. He made me feel like the most beautiful woman on earth, the sex was wild and we could talk for hours.

Technically, he was the most brilliant boyfriend I never had.

Which is why it took me another few months to realise that the spring had sprung from my trampoline boy. No matter how much it should’ve worked in theory, I simply didn't love him. It was time to move on.

But by then it was too late to start asserting my singleness to it its full glory. The Don and I had somehow slipped into inadvertent and assumed coupledom. We were being invited places together and when I saw my friends it wasn’t just my well-being they enquired after anymore with a: "Hey Dot, how you doing?", it was "Hey Dot, how's The Don doing?"

Worst of all, I was regarded as off limits by anyone that knew him or saw us in the same room together.

Nights out on the town were eventually spent making a grand show of how much The Don and I were not A Couple.

But just as I found a yummy man person to flutter my eyelashes at, someone would come up and say: "Hey Dot, where's The Don?" in that eyebrow-raising way that made it clear I should not only know where he is, but be strapped to his hip. Naturally, yummy man person would leave. Quickly.

I was a single person trapped in the heavy and undeniable subtext of his and hers.

My lack of exit strategy had turned my trampoline boy into a bona fide cock blocker.

It took me the better half of a year to shake the image of being The Don's significant other and go on a date again.

Of course, things have moved on since then. The Don and I are now friends without benefits and people have started referring to me in the singular again.

I have to admit, though, that when a lazy Sunday afternoon calls for a sometime boyfriend I still get the urge to call him up. Fortunately I still have friends, chocolate, wine and family to keep me busy.

Follow me on my blog here or on Twitter  

Do you agree with Dorothy's sentiments? Do you have – or are you – a trampoline boy? Share your thoughts in the box below.