sometimes the worst thing about being heartbroken is when you aren’t anymore. it’s better to cry-drink a bottle of wine and overshare about the breakup sex to a bartender than to admit it’s over, right? it definitely feels safer. but then time passes and you start dating a barista/model/aspiring screenwriter/uber driver and you start to forget about what came before. well S**T. I’m moving on. does that mean you’re moving on too? does that mean we are actually, finally, ALL THE WAY over?