It is cold tonight, and I am, coincidentally, wearing three articles of clothing from boyfriends past.
It is unintentional, and sweet.
My sweatshirt, too big, an unattractive colour really, is one that I grabbed out of my first submissive’s ‘give away’ bag when we were clearing out clothes to take to good will. He probably had it for quite a while before I took it. I plucked it out of the box by the front door.
“I’ll have that,” I said, putting it on.
He looked at me in it.
“It looks good,” he said.
I laughed, twirled.
“It looks *really* good,” he said again.
I nodded. “Ahh hmmm…”
He looked at me sheepishly.
“Can I have it back?”
I looked at him, raised an eyebrow.
“What?!” I figured he was joking.
“It looks so good on you, I want it back.” He had the grace to look embarrassed.
“You have *got* to be kidding me! You were going to throw this out!”
“Yeah, I know… but it looks so good on you… Now I want it back… please Ma’am?”
*laugh* “Fuck off.”
My ugg boots were a gift from my vanilla ex. A simple, sweet gesture because my old ones were looking bedraggled and sad. In winter, I wear them around the house a lot, cosy warm and comfortable.
Winter officially starts tomorrow.
My t-shirt, a dark grey baggy thing, is old and impossibly soft. It was given to me by my ex boy.
All worn and used, I can’t remember when I first picked it up and put it on. Presumably he had been wearing it, and discarded it onto the bed. Maybe I picked it up one morning, waking up sleepy-naked and finding it there with his scent all over it. I might have slipped it over my head and felt closer to him. I wore it quite a few times, padding around at his place.
When I was packing to leave him, he watched me despondently. It was always a difficult thing. To leave each other.
He had the t-shirt in his hands. It probably smelled of me by then.
He shyly held it up, and said, “You like this t-shirt, don’t you?”
I smiled at him. “Yes, I do…”
He wavered, not knowing if I would think it would be ridiculous of him to offer: cheap, stupid.
“I’d like you to take it… if you would like to, Ma’am…”
I beamed at him.
“Yes, I’d truly love it. Thank you, boy.”
And then there was kissing, sweet as ever and a little sad.
I wore it a lot when we were apart, but I haven’t put it on for quite a while. Too much, too full of sadness and loss.
It is sweet to wear memories when they have softened, become things that you can pet gently and feel tender towards, when they can wrap you up warmly in the winter cold.