Raising Arizona, Oh Brother Where Art Thou, any Coen Bro movie really. Also, try sangria and friends and your favorite shoes. Or solo sangria is better sometimes. And allow yourself to wallow a bit like bikerboy said. Boy does it help. It just takes time.

And hey, it takes the proverbial two to tango, you know? So, hey... maybe find one thing about ex-b that made you nuts and take a magnified jab at it. I realize it's mean, but it's a catharsis. However nice he is, maybe just a little thing? Maybe this is just because I was raised by Southern women but...

Example, the best post-dump peptalk from my mom went like this (scenario: me on phone fighting back the tears with burnt out, utterly dull-dread-hopeless feeling):

mom: "Well, hun, I'm sorry he hurt you this bad... he was nice and all but I mean come on, sweetie, he was two milkshakes away from Louie Anderson. You dodged a bullet, sister."

Now, that comment was exaggerated, baseline mean but in the end, totally accurate. He was the wrong guy for me. And the fever broke there.

Forget the Louie part; dish has it now that one day I would've come home early to find him wearing my pink angora sweater. *zzing* Now that, my friend, is a silver, hollowpoint bullet. :)

But I still laugh at it to this day; I hope it made you laugh, too.