He instant-messaged me today, and if I had not been drinking – it was that pointless, mid-afternoon, snow-day kind of drunk – I probably wouldn’t have cared. But no, there was enough cheap vodka in me to blur his words and exaggerate his worthless chitchat and detect imaginary inferences where innuendo did not exist. I was locked into this stupid virtual conversation, a futile exercise in empty salutations that repeats itself – at his behest, believe me – every few weeks. It sucks, and he sucks, and I end up closing the chat window, offering a dubious “g2g” that I hope is interpreted as bitchy, and scrambling for that god damn handle of vodka, before my sad, pathetic, jealous alter-ego seizes the opportunity to catch up with me.

I hope I never have this effect on an ex-boyfriend. Cheers to being single.