I still have my ex’s bathrobe that he grew out of, and that was two exes and over 10 years ago. It’s a lightweight flannel that already had a slightly worn texture when he gave it to me but that literally has not changed in the decade since. It’s not that “plush” stuff that gets weird and chunky within a few months, and it’s not that super thin knit that gets holes within a few years. It doesn’t have any of those whisps of thread that people like because they’re soft but that get caught on calluses and hangnails and drive me insane. It’s a horrible shade of dark green / navy plaid when I normally go for a more boho / mystical look but I would 100% perform magic spells in it anyway because it is that fucking comfortable. I’ve considered getting it embroidered just for some extra rizz but I worry it would get scratchy. 10/10 would steal from my ex again.

  • southsamurai@sh.itjust.works
    15·
    3 days ago

    Jeez, lots of things.

    I’m still friends with most of my exes that were longish term (at least a year together). So there’s no bad feelings that would make me reject an item, and out of those, no longing for them. There are a few that if I had anything from them, I would have donated it to something, but not many; obviously not hung up on those.

    The main one is a teddy bear.

    Which may seem weird, but there’s a reason. When I got it, my dog was young. She would normally tear up any stuffed toy playing with it, and the household rule is/was that if it’s on the floor, it belongs to the dog.

    But my dog, out of all the stuff she’d cover in slobber and love to death, wouldn’t do it to that one. No idea why.

    But that’s not why it’s still important to me.

    Well after me and that ex parted ways, I became disabled. This came along with a shit ton of pain, which had me contemplating exercising my right to death.

    That toy, my dog would bring me when I was crying. At the time, the bear sat on the headboard, tucked into a little nook. I’d be balled up and hurting, and my dog would try to make me feel better. It wouldn’t always work. When her being her wonderful self wasn’t enough, she’d get the bear and bring it to me, and push it into my face until I took it, and then she’d curl up with me and sigh.

    The bear sits on a bookshelf now, because the nook it sat in is now my wife’s nook to keep things handy. But it’s where I can look over and see it.

    Now, it doesn’t remind me of my ex at all. It reminds me of one of the best dogs I’ve ever met.