Not thinking about her is the easy part, and he succeeds in driving her out. But all he needs is one reminder or glimpse—of thick glossy curls falling over sun-kissed shoulders, and her penetrating amber eyes across a dance floor—and everything resets. He allows himself to mope on his sofa and in his bed, sustaining minimal brain function by going through his expensive liquor cabinet. Until he’s had his fill of feeling sorry for himself, and he picks himself back up and goes on with his life.