I realized as I finally began unpacking a random box of clothes that I have neglected since I moved into my house in May, that I'm similar to a serial killer. Now that's not your average-everyday-run-of-the-mill thought now is it? You know how serial killers keep tokens or reminders of a kill, so that they can go back and relive the moment any time they'd like? I realized that I've grown quite a collection of reminders of past relationships (and the more brief encounters) without even trying (at least I don't think I did). I found a green vee necked long sleeved tee shirt and scrunched my brow for a good five minutes. It wasn't mine since it was a mans XXL, but who's was it? It looked familiar, but how long can you really ponder laundry? I picked it up gingerly and tossed it into a pile for Goodwill. And so it went. Boxers of all colors and patterns, some of which I knew who the owners were since I used to sleep in the boxers when at their houses or apts or dorm rooms in college (yep, the collection was going back a little). I was slightly taken aback, was I keeping these items for a reason? The longer I thought about it, the quicker the boxers went into the trash and the flannel shirts, hoodies and other assorted items went into the Goodwill pile. I was tempted to keep a few things because they were so nice and comfy looking but once I realized that I could identify the man who owned each item, I resolutely tied the trash bag shut--went over to Goodwill and handed my sexual history over to the perky teenager who swung the heavy backdoor open for me. She received the items gratefully, blissfully unaware of what she held in her hands. It will be odd to see my past being sported about town by new men (albeit cheap men) but it's nice to have that box cleaned out giving me room...to collect more? Nah, it's just enough room in the closet to store all the dresses that I've worn only once. Once again, utilizing my space-oh so wisely!