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Several years ago, my then-boyfriend broke up with me out of nowhere, for reasons that I didn’t quite understand on that otherwise uneventful Sunday morning. After the shock and the sadness wore off — mostly about not seeing his dog again — I realized it was for the best. And for the next two years, he forgot that I was still an authorized user on his Costco membership, and I smothered any lingering emotions beneath a pile of $1.50 hot dog combos and four-plus pounds of store-brand Nutella.

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