The Contents of the Ex Box

I didn’t go all dramatic or crazy (or both) and destroy the contents of my ex box. As I opened it this weekend (whatever, I was already in a shitty mood), I realized this was not something I wanted to throw away. That being said, I did rid my box of a few less assholes’ memorabilia, mostly in my own misguided adventures of revenge, but majority of my memories were really good and happy. Which I guess proves to me that perhaps I have made a lot of progress since these relationship went bad.

Hidden among the multiple flower cards, hand-written letters and photographs (faces not cut out) were some great pieces of history. And one mascara-smeared tissue. OK, that’s just weird. Take a trip with me through my dating history, shall we:

Seriously, half of this over-sized shoe box is filled with stuff from L. There isn’t anything predominantly important about either the time spent together or the subsequent piece of memory attached to it, but just his shit takes up more space. A t-shirt from the first night I stayed over, a betting stub when we had one of the most fun dates ever at Northfield park (he won a Trifecta!), a baseball (ironically, from the last night I would ever see him), my old cell phone with all his text messages saved to it (I can’t even power it up anymore — why do I still have this?), every PD sports article from each game he played in while we were together AND tickets and “friends and family” badges from every home game in which I attended (which was all but maybe two in that particular portion of the season). And the book “Angels & Demons” that he loaned me. I was in the middle of it when we broke up (err, he “pancaked” me), and I welled up with tears EVERY time I tried to finish it. I never have.

Ticket stubs! Oh wow, my HSS and I went to so many awesome concerts, that I forgot about most of them. Hootie & the Blowfish when it rained at Blossom; the Babyface concert when Mr. Edmonds decided to wait until the LAST minute to play “our song.” (“When Can I See You Again?” for those keeping score). And then the prom pictures. So cute and timeless, well, save for his surfer-esque haircut. All of this is stored within an old journal that I kept while we were dating. The pages have all been ripped out (and most of “our stuff” went in the trash when I met my fiance years ago), but the skeleton of the journal is amazing — little quotes or cartoons all with either my name or his, dates of our first date, first kiss, you get the picture… Cute, very high school and way too memorable and important (if only for the ticket stubs all taped throughout) to throw away.

There were a lot of letters from my ex-fiance — the first week we met, the day I moved in, his proposal letter… and the one that ripped my heart into a million pieces. The one where he told me he didn’t want to marry me. Yes, the ever-prominent “Dear John” letter left on the counter. UGH. I should probably throw that one away. He always wrote me letters. I hated it then because I felt it was an excuse not to communicate verbally, but I actually miss some of that romantic bullshit… or maybe just the raw emotion behind the words. And there was also a $200 check from him that I never cashed… I wonder what principle was behind THAT.

Postcards when I left Claymation during my move to Phoenix. He sent me a lot of postcards — one was even written in Porteguese — and they were all Cleveland themed. He always had a knack for laughing me out of my funk, even when I moved back and it didn’t work out between us.

So many things from SSD too: lots of pictures, baseball ticket stub, stuff from our NYE trip to Chicago a couple years ago — like the key card from the hotel and my party crown and awwww, his business card from when and how I first met him. *sigh* And his letter…

As some sort of healing habit, I usually write a letter to my guy after the break-up. And sometimes I actually send them. Most times though, not. But there are a couple in there that still move me emotionally (and maybe even scare me), whether still with the postage stamp attached… or the xeroxed copy. I even have my personal handwritten notes that have guided me through painful phone calls or conversations, as to not get my words wrong or misconstrued. I have a hard time thinking straight when I’m emotional, and well, sometimes you need to make certain you put everything out on the table.

So, do you keep some ex stuff around? What is your storage compartment of choice? What does it mean to you? And more importantly, why do you hold on to it?

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