8:54 p.m. - March 11, 2002
That's my drawer
Was putting away clothes and realized I hadn't cleaned out the drawer the ex-girlfriend used.
Didn't know she had that much stored chez moi.
Relationships are like dresser drawers; some are deep and hold a lot, and others are shallow and break when holding too much. I've heard from others that women more or less take over space before the guy realizes what's afoot; with me, I invited her to join my stuff and clearly recall emptying one drawer for her--neither too low or too high. In it she put a change of work clothes, a change of street clothes, underwear and socks, sleepstuff and even tonight I was struck by how white her whites are and fresh smelling. My whites by comparison occasionally resemble archaeological finds.
I took everything out and then put everything back but not as neatly folded. I need to get a box because throwing things into a plastic bag strikes me as cold, and I'll resist temptation to pack nostalgia as well.
Made me think of everything else that belongs to her, like the stuff in the nightstand drawer--yeah, the sex dice--that accumulated year after year. The booklight and extra bulbs and batteries so she could read while I slept. The pine scented votive candles. Her nail kit (manicure kit? I don't know what it's called). Her notebook with her scribbled thoughts that I'm tempted to read but haven't yet.
And I thought I was being careful, avoiding playing house before it was time but sure enough there are boxes of the dishes we bought, neither too feminine or too masculine and heavy and substantial--in a word, real. Not enough for 12 I don't think but at least 6 sets and a whole lot of other shit. Ha. I laugh because I remember the first dissolution I experienced and how I took out my frustration on the dishes in the kitchen and her incredulous voice a few days later when she asked Where Is Everything and I said I had a pity party where the splintering of the dishes became my own Aleluia. At least in some respects I've matured.
Maybe just a bit.
Unconvinced.
I'm hesitant to pack her away, all the notes and cards and photos sown these past three years. Hesitant but not sad. I am maturing. Previous relationshippers found themselves cut out of my life and it does say something that I don't remain friends with former girlfriends or fiances. With her I want her to be in my life, but not right now. I want her to be my friend and I want to be hers so we can still argue over book interpretations and laugh and she can teach me more colors but before I can do that I need to mummify myself.
Hey. She has my favorite boxers. In poor taste to ask to have them back?
