It was my first break-up in about two and a half years, and I was finally coming to terms with some cold hard realities: 1) I was dumbly blinded by the notion of love for far too long and 2) my ex-boyfriend had about as much regard for a gay boy’s well-being as Jeffrey Dahmer. The aftermath was dreadful and I was left heartbroken. Then the strangest thing happened to me: I found myself not wanting to mend my wounds by doing the customary post-break-up rituals like, watching P.S. I Love You and crying myself to sleep, or listening to Alanis Morisette’s brilliantly-crafted Jagged Little Pill while burning his house down. Instead, I wanted to handle the situation as reasonably as possible; just like any true testosterone-raging male would. I decided that I was going to get back on the horse – and if he happened to be hung like one, even better.

I had to act quickly, so I chucked any emotional remnants I had for my ex into the Schuylkill River . I was a single man again and it was time for me to start living my life as one. My main objective was to engage in rebound sex, but just not any ol’ rebound sex with any ol’ body. This was more than the average fucking, this was palate cleansing, and it required a very special fellow for that. Palate cleansing – or "rebounding" in layman’s terms – is one of the most important phases that every newly-appointed-single person will go through. Your sorbet of choice will become the ultimate palate cleanser for your mental and sexual happiness. Keep in mind, this is NOT a rebound relationship: in fact, you’re not ready for a relationship. This should be strictly physical. A successful palate cleansing gives you the required distance from your former lover and sets the tone for the next few dates. After all, nobody wants the imprint of their ex’s dick to be the last impression of somebody hitting the spot down there, and the next guy will appreciate the fact that you’re no longer weeping in between hookup sessions.

My sorbet came in Latin flavor, and he arrived a few days after the break-up. I got acquainted with "Claudio" while browsing through the online meat district at Starbucks. He messaged me and we immediately clicked in a causal, yet flirty, without being too desperate conversation. We penciled each other in to have a drink or two later within the week. That Thursday evening I met Claudio at 12 th Air Command and without delay, I was already in his bedroom half past ten . As I patiently waited for Claudio to finish lubing up, I laid on the edge of his bed in mid-ponder. "Are you even ready to have sex?" I thought. (Daring for a gay man to even ask one’s self that!) I knew I still had mixed feelings for my ex. However, I also knew how gratifying it would be to finally get rid of him with a guy who was more desirable than he’d ever be. Before I could riddle myself to death with any further inquiries, Claudio’s dick was in my face and he made sure I didn’t have any more hesitations for the night.

The warmth of Claudio’s body was solacing as his kisses breathed new life into me. Finally, I was in control again and my baggage – yet momentarily – slipped away. His hands started to travel around my body before he placed them firmly below my waist. I clutched onto him voraciously as he arched his chiseled weight against mine. He took me in deeper, kissing me, reassuring me that I was right where I should be. "I am going to break you in tonight, little man," he playfully smirked. Claudio embodied all the reasons why gay men go to Puerto Rico to have great sex. Lucky for me, I didn’t have to travel that far. Even luckier, we had weekly rompings, and with rompings came much-needed therapy: Claudio was a shrink, so he knew that his dick couldn’t cure all of my problems – just most of them.

I gradually opened up about my past relationship and the more I did, the more I started to heal. There I was letting down my guard to a hot half-naked therapist and the only thing he was prodding now was my emotional state. Claudio’s analyzing reunited me with my single self and made me realize, I was just as fabulous without my ex. Unfortunately, my sexual shenanigans with Señor Freud came to an amicable halt. I began to explore other options, as he embarked on a new relationship. One lesson the doc left behind was that the art of palate cleansing served more than just a sexual need. The more we engaged in sex, the more therapeutic our pillow talks became. With each break-up, you’re given the free pass to self-evaluate and re-nurture yourself in order to get it right the next time. So as you’re wandering in the romantic-rut interim, you might as well pick your choice of sorbet and taste away.