moving

It’s been just over a week since I moved from my small Harlem abode to my brolick Brooklyn apartment. And I couldn’t be happier.

What I’m not happy about is the process of unpacking. It sucks. A lot. And as much as I hate to admit it, I’m prone to mini bouts of hoarding.

I’ve been traveling over the years with papers and folders I swear I’ll need one day, even though I haven’t touched them in years. I’ve got boxes of wires, electronics, and miscellaneous nonsense. All with some obsolete value or memory attached. Snugglecakes has been telling me to get rid of stuff and I keep telling her to get rid of the idea…even though I know in the recesses of my mind that she’s right.

The easiest things for me to get rid of as I pack or unpack?

Items from exes.

I don’t know what it is, but no matter how many boxes I go through or how much stuff I get rid of, items from exes appear during each move. They pop up like those ads that frustrate the hell out of you because you can’t get them off your screen.

I don’t harbor hostility toward my exes. At least not consciously. I’m also not looking for a psychological evaluation today, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to fix my life (thanks). I just have this thing about not keeping keepsakes from the women of my past. I don’t need to revisit pictures of the happy moments to remember times formerly known as awesome. I don’t need to look at old cards and reflect on an ex’s thoughtfulness. To me, that’s pointless. And the only reason I’d be revisiting old times is because I want them back. And if I want the old times back, that means I’m not happy in the current.

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I remember finding a stack of pictures from some tropical destination and boobookins looking flabbergasted when the I turned them into confetti before tossing the pieces in the trash.

Of all the stuff she thought I should get rid of, items from exes weren’t on the list…well, except for [love] tapes. Or flip books that depicted [love]. Apparently, motion mementos are a no no. Not that I have any of those anyway.

And with each still shot or written note I tossed away, she continued to look at me like I was crazy. She likes memories. I like them too. I just don’t believe those of other women need to travel with me throughout life.

But what about you? What’s your policy on items from exes? How do you feel about your significant other keeping relationship luggage stuffed in the corner of a closet?

Wondering why I can’t just ex out these pics and cards,

slim jackson