One hundred and sixty-four days. That was how long I had been single. That six months mark was coming up, and although I swore I didn’t care… it was glaringly untrue. It’s not like I had it marked on my calendar or anything. I kept track in my head, and perhaps that was worse. But it’s not like six months was a bad thing. It wasn’t as though that mark signified I was a loser or anything. I have had my fair share of women,...