\nYou've come to the conclusion that
8 to 12 minutes of foreplay is just not
good enough.

You actually have a crush. Yippee!

Out with your gals, you're shocked
to finally learn that Sara got promoted
a month ago and Julie has a new boyfriend
whom she's completely in love
with. Turns out you've been so busy
monopolizing convos with your get-him-
back master plan that you missed
what was going on in their lives.

You've decided that being friends
with your ex isn't such a hot idea. You
have enough pals already, and by the
way, none of them treat you like a piece
of poo on the bottom of their shoe.

The guy at your local corner store,
who nicknamed you Chocolate Chip for
a while (What? You needed comfort!),
has changed your name to Sexy.

The other day, you dropped out of
cell-phone range — for, oh, two seconds —
but you didn't panic. Normally
you'd be freaking that you missed a
call from him, but face it, that's not
going to happen.

You just had an epiphany: It's his loss,
not yours.

You finally returned your collection of
sappy tear-jerker DVDs — Titanic, The
Notebook, and Love Actually — to the
video store and rented some new, more
empowering movies — Charlie's Angels
and Kill Bill: Volumes 1 and 2.

Your computer at work has a meltdown
and deletes all of his e-mails and
the loving dialogue you shared. And
(gasp!) you're not under the desk in the
fetal position, howling in pain and bawling
your eyes out.

Two nights ago, you actually realized
that the way his eyebrows go up and
down when he's talking about something
serious is just really annoying. In
fact, so is the way he's always scratching
his neck. Ugh...and the constant
throat-clearing.

You've stopped connecting (in a "like,
she totally gets where I'm at" way) with
Avril Lavigne songs.

You know that fantasy where you get
back together because a bus hits you,
and upon hearing the tragic news, your
ex suddenly realizes that he's still madly
in love with you and races to the hospital
for a bedside vigil (with two blinding
carats in his pocket)? Yeah, well, you
haven't had it for seven days.

When throwing on clothes to run out
to the store for milk, you don't blow-dry
your hair (twice) and reject four outfits
on the off chance that you may bump
into him on the way.

Your date kissed you last night, and
your gag reflex didn't kick in.

When you run into his mom at the
mall — you weren't quick enough to lose
her — and she takes your hand and tearfully
says "I really thought you were
The One. My husband and I love you
like a daughter," you don't turn into
emotional road kill.