I used to think all that game playing was par for the course and even kind of exciting. It just felt logical to pursue a boy the same way I applied to college—by expending exorbitant time and energy showing what a great catch I am and what a perfect match we’d be, so that after a lengthy waiting period I might get accepted. But now the idea of reliving any version of that charade seems like hell.

Pain was my tie to a past that a part of me wanted to hold on to. The more I hurt, the more I knew I loved, and that felt like a good thing.

High school sweetheart" is such an innocuous-sounding term for something that can tear out your guts.

If breakups are like deaths, then ex sightings are like seeing a ghost: you feel goose bumps, near loss of bladder control, and the sensation of your heart bursting in your throat. The distinction is that the ex is alive.

I think how breakups can bring out the worst in the best people, and part of being upset is mouthing off crap you don’t mean.

Blame your body. The whole biological purpose of existence is to mate, so from the time we hit puberty, our hormones are demanding us to couple up. Maybe it’s basic instinct to feel inadequate if you’re single.""That’s what sucks. There’s so many more interesting things than guys, but guys are what we spend most of our time talking about.""I think that’s just the way it is, though. No matter what we do, it’s always more special if there’s a boyfriend to share it with.""Or a best friend.

But recalling how my ex had nasty BO after track practice never made me feel better. It seemed disingenuous to hold things against him that before I readily accepted as the price of love.

After a breakup there’s a momentary relief that you’re free again. But that’s quickly eclipsed by all the good memories you had together and the realization that there won’t be any more of them.

One of the pitfalls of having an ex-boyfriend is that people still pair you together in their memories, and sooner or later someone’s bound to mention him. And now that it has happened . . . I can’t say I feel nothing. I don’t think it’s possible to get royally dumped by the only boy I’ve ever done it with, let alone loved, and then feel nothing when he’s brought up in conversation.