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It's been two weeks since the breakup, two hours since Kevin changed his Netflix password, and two seconds since you last checked his Instagram. You were planning on a night of My So-Called Life and that one documentary about how our food is destroying the planet, but alas, now you have nothing.

Then you look at your phone: 85 unread messages from a group text with your girl friends about going out dancing. You’re game until you remember that time in 2011 when you drunkenly sobbed in the arms of an Australian backpacker.