Whether you’re the queen of one night stands or a serial dater, you’ve accumulated a fair share of other guy's clothing over the years. Certainly t-shirts from some charity event, plaid pajama pants, and sweatshirts that make you question why he has it in the first place.

Don’t play, we all love when he lets us borrow something of his. Especially when he doesn’t say he needs it back while in the process of handing it over. It’s the modern day equivalent of a guy giving you his class ring. If the clothing is from a one night stand, it’s a great conversation piece at brunch with the girls later that day. It’s nice no matter how you got it.

After I was seeing somebody for a couple months, I noticed certain articles of his wardrobe were iconic symbols of who he is. Things I wouldn't dare to steal or even borrow. You wouldn’t take Cinderella’s slipper, would you? That's a characteristic of who she is. Same idea. So the only item I had of his was the long sleeve T-shirt I wore home from hanging out at his place for the first time. When we hung out for so long it was cold by the time I left. It is just a plain T-shirt. One that he doesn't even remember I have, and will never be missed.

Sometimes the clothing trophy is irrelevant in relationships, or you are nice enough to return the item the following day, probably because of that Cinderella's slipper idea. It is almost as if the longer the relationship is, the less items of clothing you have of theirs.

Then the breakup happens.

And in my case, I didn't clean my room for what seems like forever, because that was a war zone. Then finally I cleaned up, did laundry, and put away the pile of clothes on my desk chair. And then I picked up a sweatshirt. A sweatshirt I didn't even know I had. His sweatshirt. His worn in college sweatshirt. He must have left it that one time he packed a bag and stayed all weekend. But we were over, and I was heartbroken. I put it on and went to bed.

I would wear the sweatshirt around my apartment. I never wore it out in public, because with my luck he’d see me in it. A few months went by and I brought it to my parent’s place over Christmas break. I wore it over Christmas break, running errands around the city. I liked wearing it.

After Christmas break, I didn't see that sweatshirt again unless I went to my parent’s place for a weekend. It stayed on the top shelf in my closet with my other sweatshirts. It was my sweatshirt of choice though whenever I was home, perhaps only because it was on top of the pile and easiest to grab.

I’ve thought about throwing it out multiple times, but always concluded I didn’t want to. Is it because I still wasn't over him? At first, yeah no shame, i’ll admit it was. But then once I left it at my parent’s place that December, and only wore it on holiday weekends or school breaks, it started to have an entirely new meaning to me.

I was now wearing the sweatshirt because it reminds me of the new memories I have been making while wearing it, rather than when I used to wear it because it reminded me of the memories he and I had together.

At this point, the sweatshirt reminds me of only good memories. I no longer see it as his sweatshirt. It’s my sweatshirt. Time keeps passing and it’s still on the top shelf of my closet. I will never throw it out. But I may never wear it again.

Maybe it is weird to have sentimental value in a sweatshirt, but at least I don’t believe in lucky socks.

You do you.