"Do I still think about my ex? Well, yes. But, like, in total platonisms, like the fond way you remember a cute dog that used to paddle around in the beach you went to as a child. Really, it’s like that. When we remember our ex, or exes, or the girls that fate has quietly retired from our lives, there are two conflicting impulses at play. There’s a frequent touch of wistfulness, particularly if the breakup wasn’t so bad, or happened so long in the past that it’s receded into sepia tones—the sense that, yeah, there was a good thing there. At the same time, there is also a feeling of finality. Life isn’t like a cassette tape, there’s no rewind button, no turning back of the tape. We can’t gain back our youth, or lose the pounds; we can’t voluntarily shed the wisdom we’d gained in the girlfriends we’ve loved and hated and shouted at and fell out of love with before we chose to fall in love with you. The world has moved on, dragging us with it, and to go back to old habits is to become a person we just aren’t anymore. It’s just counter-productive."