Closure. What a stupid idea. Don’t get me wrong, like so many others, I’ve spent months, years of my life seeking “closure” in relationships. I’ve foolishly reached out, ad nauseum. I’ve imagined happenchance meetings and the conversations that would inevitably (fantastically) ensue: “Oh Arielle, I’m so glad I ran into you,” they'd begin. “I have to tell you… all these years... it’s just tortured me that…” etc. etc. (I warned you, fantastical .) I’ve even gone so far as to write a book about my dating blunders, disappointments and failures in hopes of achieving some measure of “closure.” So, when I say I’m a world-class, hopeful, hopeless fool, having wasted lifetimes waiting for the inimitable, imaginary, ethereal concept of “closure” to land in my lap like a beautiful, rare, mini rainbow unicorn, I assure you, I am a world-class fool. And I can, therefore, further assure you that through my painstaking – and entirely wasted – efforts, I've determined...