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they’re in the same boat as me. I can even tell how their last relationship went by the changes they make in their profile. Jason’s last girlfriend must have been clingy because now he’s all about finding an independent woman.”

    “You’re right; this is your turf.”

    “I’m just going through the motions, really. I still miss Dustin. Six months, and according to Debbie, I’m still in denial.”

    Debbie was Larissa’s therapist. “Meaning you don’t believe he’s gone?”

    “Most of the time, I know he’s never coming back and that there are a million reasons why I don’t want him back anyway, but I’ve still got moments where I’m sure he was the one for me and that one of these days he’ll realize it.”

    “What does Debbie make of that?”

    “She says it’s part of the grieving process.” Larissa counted off on her fingers: “Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. She even gave me an acronym to remember them. DABDA.”

    “Catchy.” I held up a belt I hadn’t worn in three years and squinted at it critically before throwing it into the suitcase. “I’m so jealous that you can afford therapy.”

    “I’m so jealous that you never started it. I mean, every week I go in and I discover some new subpar aspect of myself. I sometimes think I should stop while I’m ahead, before I find out anything else.”

    “But you’ve already opened Pandora’s box. There’s no going back.” I zipped up the suitcase. “Every time I move, I swear this will be the time that I do it right. I’m going to get organized, I’m going to go through everything and throw out the crap I’ve been hauling with me from apartment to apartment, and every time I leave it all to the last minute and just throw it into boxes. And some of it’s never actually come out of boxes since the last move.”

    “You could go through everything when you’re moved in and make a donation.”

    I shook my head. “No one does that. You either donate before you move, or it stays yours until the next time.”

    “So lately,” Larissa said, “what Debbie and I have been working on is goal setting.”

    I groaned. “What is it with that horrible word right now? That’s what Dan wants me to do, too.”

    “Therapy goals are different. They’re like, How will you know when you’re done with therapy? How will you know when you’ve fully evolved?” She placed a self-deprecating emphasis on the “fully evolved.”

    “And?”

    “Goal setting has taken up three sessions!” She actually threw her hands up to indicate her frustration with herself. I couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone do that outside of a bad sitcom. “That’s three hundred dollars. And Debbie’s like, ‘Well, there’s your problem. You don’t know what you want.’”

    “Maybe Debbie’s your problem. If you don’t develop any goals, you’re never getting out. It’s sort of a fantastic scam, isn’t it?” Seeing the anxiety on Larissa’s face, I added hastily, “I don’t really mean that. You’ve gotten a lot of good things out of therapy.”

    “I thought I had, because I was so much happier for a while there. But then I realized: I was happier when I was with Dustin. I was just all-around happier. So I went to therapy every week and we talked about my father and I felt proud of myself for staying committed to the process. That’s another thing Debbie talks about: my commitment to the process, so that if I leave, I’m someone who can’t commit. Now, I know I have a lot of shortcomings, but that is not one of them. I’ve broken up with two men in my life. Two! And I’ve been in, like, five hundred relationships. I am not afraid of commitment.”

    “So if you quit therapy, it would actually be progress. You’d break up with her instead of waiting for her to do it first.” I was only half-joking.

    “Sonya thinks I should quit, too.”

    We exchanged a look that said, “Well, obviously.” Sonya was our