In Which I Seek Meaning, But Find Unflattering Separates

I don't share. I'm possessive, jealous, meticulous, controlling, and downright scary.

I'm not talking about men. I'm talking about closets. The two are closely related, however, and in more than just the Larry Craig sense.

That's because one of the biggest moments in a new relationship is when you offer up a small portion of turf: say, a drawer, a shelf, or Herzegovina. I went upscale and gave J. his own little closet corner, with hanging shelves and a basket for sundries (hey, if I'm gonna give up turf, it's going to be under my own exceedingly anal-retentive terms).

But first, I had to make space.

I disposed of a collection of button-down blouses. I don't know why I even bought those, as nothing creates a boob plateau on the already A-cupped like a button-down. Blouses make me look like John Edwards, except with a snappier haircut. So, no real loss.

But then we got to the weird stuff: my mother's wedding gown, which is a hand-embroidered hippie monstrosity. I wear it on Halloween sometimes. My wedding gown, which is lovingly preserved in such a way that it looks like Headless Me in a Box. A shoebox of my sister's old school reports, helpfully labeled, "Skye's Crap." My old school reports, including one from kindergarten claiming I have "issues with spatial relations." Coats I never wear. Dresses that don't fit and probably never did. Dresses I wore once (like, the, er....wedding gown.) And more, and onwards. The absurd jumble of a life lived in the silliest way possible.

A more insightful blogger would find meaning in all this: "making room" in a literal and figurative sense, to allow a new relationship to grow. She'd find symbolism in these bits of family, past relationships, and prior selves. She'd set up her little Boyfriend Corner with a weepy sigh, a sense of purpose, an exploding heart, and a wry smile. Then she'd tell you all about it and you'd each come away feeling like you've learned and grew and changed. Like dandelions on a sunny field, while the cows do their cowlike mooing in the gooey twilight. Or something.

But that ain't me. So, instead, I'll tell you how I announced the Grand Opening of the Boyfriend Closet Corner:

"This is where your stuff goes. You have shelves! This is your basket. Now I don't have to look at piles of stuff everywhere. Cool?"

Clearly, I haven't learned a damn thing.