THE EX BOX
I just finished reading an article about stuff from a previous relationship. Not the emotional crap but the actual physical crap. To pattern one’s life after the Gilmore Girls, one should box up everything “HIM-ish” and put it in a box …forever. In the words of Dylan Moran “It must be kept so it can never be looked at.”
I skimmed through the comments after and all the ones I read seemed to be along the lines of “No. Just get rid of it. As soon as you possibly can. LIVE IN THE NOW!”
When I realized I was thinking about writing on this topic, I got up and walked around. As I passed through the rooms of my apartment, I had some things jump out at me, remembering that they came from one or another with whom I had a relationship in the past.
Yeah, I have still have that shit. It’s *my* shit. None of it is like pictures of me with that man in heart-shaped frames; it’s just stuff. Some of which is stuff that is used for something specific; though, yeah, some of it is just sentimental crap. But I keep it because I like it.
I would venture to say that Mr. L might not even be aware of where most of my stuff came from. I would also say that I doubt he cares. I’m guessing IF he were to concern himself with it for even a moment, he’d probably think “that’s just something else of her shit. I don’t care.”
I’ve never ran down a list of my possessions to him and where each thing originated because I do not keep it *because* of that relationship. I keep it because it is mine and I like it.
That’s not to say I have every tiny memento from every date I was ever on with every guy in my life. I don’t keep a lot of tokens OF the relationship and I keep nothing that belonged to *him*. I could absolutely understand him having an issue with stuff like that. THAT kind of thing would seem to me as though the other person was ‘waiting on the ex to come back’ or ‘unable to fully move on.”
When my ex husband and I were still dating, and we had first decided to move in together, I remember we were at his apartment packing for this to happen. It seems funny now, but I remember we got into this hours long screaming fight. One of very first *big* ones. Because he was in the kitchen packing and I walked in and asked him what he was doing.
“Packing the dishes?” “Why would you do that?” “Because people eat on dishes, typically” “If you think I’m going to have second-hand WHORE PLATES, you better guess again.” And it was on.
That phase of the fight really didn’t last very long. Ten, fifteen minutes max. What dragged it on for hours is that a few minutes after we’d settled down and went back to packing, I was futzing around in his closet and happened to find a cute black skirt. Holding it up against myself and checking it in a mirror, I was all “OHHHH! This is cute. This is SO MY SKIRT NOW!” For clarification, it belonged to “The Whore,” not him.
But it was immediately on again because if I were unwilling to eat on “WHORE PLATES,” I shouldn’t want to wear a “WHORE SKIRT.” And I never could get him to understand why it was perfectly OK for me to choose to take over something that formerly belonged to her but she left. He had no problem with my doing it in regards to him. Yet it was absolutely not OK for me to be made to settle for her cast-offs. Obviously, though, since this is a story about my ex, I see how the latter bit of that sentence applies here, too.
As I was typing that little jaunt down memory lane, the rightness of one of those comments in the original article struck me. It was along the lines of “if she had completely erased every bit of her previous relationships, I wonder how quickly I’d be wiped clean too.” I absolutely agree. I can’t help but wonder how unimportant those past relationships must have been if someone can dismiss every aspect of them.