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Losing love is like listening to your favorite radio station while moving out of range. The love is still there, but the sound is muted, distant. Soon it buzzes out completely, turning to white noise as mountains impede the signal.

(And overwrought radio wave metaphors are a sure sign that my blood sugar is low. Please don't ask me what the mountains symbolize. I would have to tell you they symbolize my need for a big slice of pepperoni pizza.)

To stubbornly cling to my analogy, the buzzing of my last relationship hasn't disappeared entirely, but it has softened to a dull hum that can be ignored with little effort. Which begs the eternal question: What next?

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Methods of getting over a relationship include trips to Vegas, eating cocoa powder straight from the can, and hastily-concocted plans to become a Buddhist monk. Some schools of thought advocate diving straight into a rebound relationship for distraction; others propose allowing time and lengthy yoga sessions to do the work. Or you can cobble together some amalgam of the two. My personal favorite is the "Can't Quite Make Up My Mind" method.

Eight months seems like a reasonable period -- enough time to assuage any ridiculous-yet-tough-to-shake feelings of disloyalty for sleeping with someone else, even though my ex dumped me ages ago. Love also feels less present with that much of a buffer, so I'm not wishing I was with the ex instead of the person who's actually sitting across from me eating macaroni and cheese.

But those months aren't quite enough to obliterate that particular radio station completely. There's still some buzzing, louder some days than others.

But it's pretty quiet these days. As for the next step, it appears to be comprised of equal parts hope, luck, and Craigslist.