After my last breakup, dating again was a clumsy and painful process.
I fumbled my way back into the scene by downloading (then deleting, then re-downloading, then re-deleting) the essential apps. I shamelessly hit on the hot ref in my soccer league. I lobbed out a few “how ya been?” texts to old hookups. And for the next six months I found myself attracted to men who lived on other continents, struggled with depression, had girlfriends or wives, or were workaholics or misogynistic jerks