The Amicable Ex

I am cool with all of my exes (well, all of them from college forward).  Some of my relationships were public.  Others were private.  Some had a friendly break up.  Others were, well let’s say, much less friendly.  All were necessary.
I admit most of the coolness between my exes and I happened by chance with little to no effort.  But there were a couple that I had to make a personal decision that once the last “f*ck you” had lost its sting that at some point we would come together to make amends.  I made the decision to forgive, not for them but for me.  However, my greatest objective was to see where and how we went awry.  I could easily continue to place blame and say there are no good men.  Or I could ask those who I had allowed to be closest to me to give their perspective.  I choose to listen.   It is hard to have someone that you loved magnify your shortcomings.  But those conversations gave me the realest portrait of myself.  At that point, I could choose to grow from it or continue to make the same mistakes.  I am pro-growth.
Eventually the pain subsides and we remember the foundation of which our relationship was established. However, this time we are saner and free of the  confines of titles and rules.  Through these saner eyes, we can see what we were possibly only intended to ever be – friends.

His T-shirt

I don’t know when it became my favorite t-shirt. Not just my favorite one of his, but my favorite t-shirt overall. Over the course of our relationship, I probably had worn all of his tees as least once.  I had several at my place along with his socks, sweats, and basketball shorts, but I somehow along the way formed a special connection to this shirt.  In essence it represented who he was, and I suppose my inclination to the shirt was symbolic of wearing a representation of him.

kinda like this.

As most relationships do, ours eventually came to an end. And among the return of things that are his and what is mine, I had to depart from my favorite shirt.  It was a sad day, not because of the break up or the return of the things, but because I had to return his shirt- my favorite shirt.
As life progressed we parted cities, but not before he made sure he gave me back my, I mean his, favorite shirt. And with that thoughtfulness along with his shirt was always the possibility of more later, way later, much later down the road- but yet the possibility.  Of course, there have been other shirts since then. Some shirts I liked, others I really liked but no other shirts I have loved….no other shirts that I bonded with like I bonded with his shirt.
Well now, as I move again, I once again have to make decisions on what to take and what to leave behind. And maybe 6 months ago the shirt would have been a must-have. But now, after time I no longer to feel the need to hold on to his shirt any longer.  And I am hopeful that by leaving his shirt behind, leaves room in my dresser for a new shirt that I will love- even more than I loved his.