I spent three minutes chewing what I'm pretty sure was a ghost. The gum had surrendered its flavor before I'd even closed my mouth, leaving me working my jaw like a anxious horse on a rubber band. By minute five, I realized I'd become that guy at the DMV—just masticating aggressively at nothing, waiting for *something* to happen. My dentist asked why my jaw looked so tired. I told her I was committed to a relationship that stopped being fulfilling around 2005.