I walked him to St. George station. He doesn’t like public displays of affection, but this time he closed the gap when I leaned in to kiss him. This last time. I watched him step onto the stairs and disappear, then I turned and walked away. I treated myself to bubble tea, immersed myself in my breakup playlist, and let myself sit in the feelings.

The feelings came. So did the tears. I was sobbing in Robert Street Park at 10 PM. I needed solitude, I thought. Half an hour later, Lauren shows up with a bag full of snacks and a little stuffed koala for me. We run into Yujin on the way home. We smoke menthol cigarettes in the dusty stairwell behind our building. I cry and ramble on about the breakup. They listen. They always do.

There’s a line in Before Midnight when one of the characters, Anna, recalls her grandmother’s wise words: “Her big advice was to not be too consumed with romantic love. Friendships and work, she said, brought her the most happiness.” I think about how accurate that is as Emma sleeps beside me on the living room couch. 

I get into a weird situation with a guy two years my junior. Jess offers to slash the tires and key the doors of his precious BMW. I laugh, a little worriedly, knowing that she’d actually do it.

We get home from our favourite bar and I’m a little tipsy. I download Hinge and Maissie gives up on her 11 PM bedtime to help me perfectly curate my profile. We sort through the barrage of likes together.

I match with a guy and we hit it off immediately. We stayed up talking until 7 in the morning three days in a row. “I want you,” “I need you,” “Delete Hinge,” “You were made for me.” I believed every word. He slept over that weekend. I’d lean in to kiss him and he would turn his head away. Two days later, he told me he thinks we should stop talking. I knew convincing him otherwise was futile. I let him leave.

The magic words:  “Warehouse debrief tonight?” I feel like I’m in a sitcom every time we go to that bar — the server recognizes us every time. We share orders of loaded fries and trade sips of each other’s cheap cocktails. The flashy videos playing on the screens are distracting and the blaring music drowns me out, but they lean forward and hang onto every word I say. They laugh, gasp, and offer comforting words at all the right times. We stumble home tipsy, passing around our vapes and blasting music as we walk down Bloor Street. We have an impromptu dance party in the living room. The soju flows freely and so do my words. So does the love.

I go on three first dates in the span of two weeks. There’s always someone in the living room when I get back. I update them on the guys I’m seeing. “I want him…” I say. “Which one?” they respond. “We’re losing track!” I giggle.

If there’s anything the past month and a half has taught me, it’s that boys come and go (especially easily, at that). But there will always be someone in the living room when I get back. There will always be impromptu Warehouse debriefs. I’ll get by (and through my situationship(s) phase), with a little help from my friends. <3