In the Trash

Bar Manger’s Wife Beater
I finally threw out his stained wife beater. It had sat in the back of my underwear drawer for almost a year now. He left it the second to last night we spent together. He left it because he knew it would piss off my normal bedmate if he found it. He left it because even if I didn’t say it, there was someone else. He left it because he knew me much better than most. He left it because he knew I would keep it. But last week, I threw it out. After all I knew the day he asked me if I was pregnant and reminded me, if I was we would be married, it was over. I knew when I realized though I was now his other girl I was always his primary girl. More importantly the girl needed him because inside of her was growing a little him. And really I didn’t need him, even if he really wanted me to need him. We don’t always get what we want.

Poet’s Emails
My hard drive crashed, driving me to purge my email in hopes of finding old documents and photos. I had kept everyone of his emails in a folder entitled “Rain Lover.” The title’s meaning is no longer important though more than the obvious. We parted ways 16 months ago, and like any normal long-term relationship we took our bounties to the harm of each other. He has my feather bed, fans, and various other items. I somehow just kept him emails. Until this week, as I searched scanning for what I felt I had lost in my technology mishaps, and I realized his emails, poems, words, lies…they were not what I was looking for. They were empty lines filling my inbox. I deleted them and their folder.

Carpenter’s Toothbrush
It really hasn’t been that long. Not long at all if you count the last time he came over after drinking too much Jameson or the last time he pulled me aside aggressively picking me up by my hips and ass to kiss me. But it was time. I had let his toothbrush sit in my medicine cabinet for the last two months untouched. A toothbrush’s whose presence unnerved me once I noticed it. It wasn’t invited. It simply appeared, a symbol of the way our relationship happened, continued, and finished. I threw it out, after I debated if I should use it for cleaning or leave it for him at work one day or place it under his windshield wiper with a note. But then again, I’m not that type of girl. I haven’t had that much hate, spite or maybe just balls. So I just threw it out. Nonchalantly took it out of the medicine cabinet and tossed it into the trashcan one evening, just like we did to our relationship.


Oddly it feels right. Simple. Clean. They picked up the trash from the curb last night.