Lorelai opens the hall closet and hides the box in the back, underneath some blankets. She shuts the door and sighs. The first time I ever got dumped I was, like, eleven. I liked this boy an awful lot, and was tired of him not noticing me, so I got my best friend to ask him if he'd go with me. Yeah, this was in the South. He told my friend that he might be leaving the country soon (even at eleven the boy knew that he was always going to have to lie to girls to remain blame-free) but that he'd do it anyway. About a week later, he rode his bike to my house and I met him down the street so that my parents wouldn't see. We decided that we should meet each other in person since we were boyfriend and girlfriend. He was nice. Shy. Awkward. So was I. I held onto the chain-link fence at the corner of my street and watched him look down at his feet as he shuffled along on his bike while he talked. I remember everything about the way I felt that day. I can't remember a single thing we talked about. The next day at school, everyone was supposed to kiss at recess. I didn't want the moment of my first kiss to be shared with everyone in class. So that afternoon, my boyfriend got his best friend to tell me that we had broken up. "He doesn't think you're pretty anymore," he told me. I spent that afternoon sobbing in my bed. My mother was in shock, since I didn't even mention having had a boyfriend for three days. I didn't have anything of his to throw away, so I had to lock up all of the poems and stories I had written about him. I had to throw away my own things to get over him. I hated that. Later, when real breakups happened, I never tossed the things I had acquired during the relationship. In fact, in my parents' house, in the garage, there are boxes with boys' names on them. Inside are love notes, movie tickets, pressed flowers, scraps of paper, photographs, poems, mix tapes, and hundreds of memories. They made me who I am now, and I want them to have their own shrines in my life when I'm older and finally find the one person that I make just as happy as he makes me. Then if I have a daughter someday and she gets her heart broken, I can show her just how many times my heart had to break before I found her daddy. Man. Where the hell did all of that come from? Y'all, I'm sorry. I just made myself sick with all of that.
Episode Report CardPamie: A | 415 USERS: B-
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