When you’re married, your energy has a chance to roam.  You can choose a hobby—raising a dog, fertility, painting. Your google searches have a theme; you are no longer aimless in the bookstore.  You have found something to invest all the energy you had previously spent on planning the wedding, or before that, planning your life.  Because unfortunately, most of us, when we’re single don’t really think we’ve got an adult life until we’re married.  So we obsess over the meanings of IMs, emails, and lack of calls as a hobby.  We can almost spreadsheet the interactions with our perspective dates.  Emailed him twice, called once, returned his call.  Ball is in his court.  We could try to elaborate, adding which story we told to whom, but it would require more typing than it’s worth.  And when there is no guy, we create them or resurrect the older ones because we don’t know what to do with the available energy we still have after our yoga, spinning, and elliptical efforts.  When you get married, you can exhale and start your life. 

Fuck that noise.
Take it from a woman who has been on both sides.  So many women do it, let themselves obsess over someone because it gives her something to do. I certainly did it before I was married, and I’ve seen myself do it again afterwards.  Then a day came when I reviewed all my diary entries, examined the scope of my conversations with friends, and I was like, “Is this all I’ve become?”  I started making my hobbies (I still hate this word), my passions, about me.  It’s a way better investment than some random guy who won’t be around next week.  Seriously, find something you can do, just for you, that makes you happy.  It’s something no one can ever take from you; it’s on par with an education.  Learning to make yourself happy, without another person, is just as invaluable as learning from the past.  And masturbation is not a hobby; it’s a sport.