An interesting thing happened the other day.
Bimpi and I were strolling to the Chinese place down my street and it grew really cold. As we hurried back into my house, I put on a sweater and she asked if I had another.
Before I could answer, her eyes and mine met your sweater hanging in my wardrobe.
As I made to speak, she pointed out the extra sweater she saw hanging in the wardrobe. I froze.
I didn’t even realize I still cared about it until that moment – There it was, this soft, colourful reminder of you, hanging at the extreme of my wardrobe. I haven’t thought about it in a long time. I had even forgotten it was there.
As her hand reached for it, my heart tightened. I hesitated.
She looked at me, shivering and confused. “Is it okay if I borrow this?” she asked. ‘Of course,’ I said, snapping out of my mini-trance.
She took the hanger out of my wardrobe and yanked the sweater off. As she pulled it over her head, I looked away. I wasn’t going to let her freeze without help but the truth is, as she slipped it on, I felt like I was losing something.
I wondered if she would ask to take it home and if I will be inconsiderate to ask she take it off when leaving. It wasn’t just a sweater after all. It was the sweater. The one you left behind after one of our many movie nights. You forgot it, and I kept it, like a secret. It smelled like you for months after you left. I wore it on nights when I missed you, hoping it would wrap me in the comfort of what we had. I let her wear it, but I couldn’t stop the commentary running through my head.
Why was I so attached to this?
Why did it still feel like yours, even though you’ve been gone so long?
And why did I feel like letting her wear it home would be like letting go of a part of myself?
She ended up leaving it behind before she left.
Later that night, I pulled the sweater out of the laundry basket and stared at it. And then I did something I hadn’t planned.
I went through every drawer, every box, every forgotten corner of my room, and I gathered everything you ever gave me. Letters. Trinkets. Photos. And that sweater. I put everything in a dustbin bag and took it to the backyard.
For a moment, I thought about donating them.
Maybe someone else could give those things a second life. But that felt wrong. I couldn’t imagine someone else walking around in our memories.
Those things didn’t belong to anyone else, but they didn’t belong to me anymore either. So, I poured some petrol on the dustbin bag and set them on fire. As the bag burned, I watched the flames grow and reduce until there were little sparks left.
I thought about some times I curled up in that sweater. All those memories seemed to burn with the burning sweater. I held on to that sweater as if it could keep us together. Watching it burn felt like a release. The flames reached toward the sky, as if they were carrying the remnants of your memory somewhere far away. And as the ashes settled, I felt lighter. It wasn’t just about the sweater. It was about everything it represented—the hope, the heartbreak, the nights I spent clinging to something that no longer existed.
Burning those things felt like taking back a piece of myself. I didn’t realize how much I needed that moment until I was feeling the release form watching the items burn.
So, dear ex-boyfriend, thank you for the sweater, for the memories, and even for the heartache. They’ve shaped me in ways I’m only beginning to understand.
I feel even more ready to face my future with no sweaters, no clutter, and no lingering ties to the past.
Sincerely,
Your ex-girlfriend
- Dear Ex-Boyfriend” is a fictional relationship column written by Ese Walter, reflecting on past experiences with a fictional ex. Readers are encouraged to share their own stories by submitting letters for possible publication. Submissions can be sent to esewalter@gmail.com
