A quart of Ben & Jerry’s sat waiting for her in the freezer, and her craving for it had kicked in with the predictability of Pavlov’s bells when she’d seen the writing on the wall at lunch with David. She grabbed the container and a spoon, threw the lid into the sink, and dropped onto the sofa with the television remote.She was running out of fingers on which to count all her doomed relationships. David put her up to eight, so long as she didn’t count college. She never expected to become a serial dater, but now she felt like she needed to include a warning with her phone number when she gave it out to a guy. Please be advised: this relationship will self-destruct in approximately four months. Truth be told, she was more disappointed in adding another failure to the list than she was about losing David specifically. Not that he wasn’t a great guy—but she was starting to think she was fated to be single forever.The phone rang, making her jump. She jabbed her spoon into the ice cream and grabbed it.
