I don’t fret or rant or point fingers when a relationship ends. I just say, “Okay, that happened and it was wonderful while it lasted.” Because I’ve been ready for the demise all along. We all know how to read the tea leaves after two or three weeks. The default assumption is that most relationships won’t last more than a few weeks or months. We tell ourselves the latest hook-up might be an X-factor thing that will somehow defy the odds, but we know deep down that probably won’t happen. And that’s cool. Unlike some women I don’t feel a need to rewrite and revise the history of the relationship. Some women definitely do this. All is bliss and serenity when a relationship begins, but when it winds down they have to go into their angry revisionist mode and say “oh, my God, what was I thinking?…I must have been out of my mind to fall for this guy!” and so on. Everything that was good and alpha-smooth has to be re-written as a moment of weakness or blindness or self-delusion. I always turn that around and ask, “So you were dumb or desperate or foolish enough to fall in love six months ago, but you’re a different person now?”