The Scarf

It was nearing prom season in my last year of high school, I had made some friends but had yet to meet someone I’d want to date. I’d go visit my Mom at her new place every so often, she told me that I really should be thinking about getting a date for prom. Even when I told her that most of my friend group didn’t have dates,  her advice stood firm that  going sans date wasn’t fun, I’d regret it, and they’d all be sorry, trust me! So I went and hunted down a boyfriend, through one of my good school friends. Was I attracted to him? Not in the least. Did I now get to tell my Mom I had a prom date? Sure did. He was quite patient with me, given that I was vastly and deeply emotionally constipated especially at that time. I liked the company and he was kind enough, along with agreeing to be my prom date. It was nice having a friend to sleep next to, key word “friend.”I don’t think he caught on to the red flags that I clearly brought to the table, the main one being that I held my breath when we made out. There was just so much saliva and I could not understand why, but I had nothing to compare it to so for a while I assumed that this is just what all kissing must be like. I think something I believed to be a major drawback was how he ate popcorn, it ruined all of our relationship potential in my mind.

I had recently gotten into a University in Quebec, which excited me to not only distance myself from my family situation, but also from my boyfriend that still doesn’t think he’s bad at kissing. This idea took a plummeting fall when my parents told me I wasn’t able to go, because between all of us we couldn’t afford it. I was crushed, this would have been my perfect escape from saliva central to freedom at last. I was so angry that I both couldn’t go AND I still had a boyfriend. I met up with N and told him that I was no longer moving to Montreal, he was ecstatic that i’d be staying, “I’m so sorry you can’t go anymore, but at least that means we can stay together!” I had officially reached my nice girl limit, I could not watch one more episode of him shovelling popcorn into his face, or bare one more sloppy and wet kiss that he persisted was my fault for not enjoying. “Oh N, I’m not moving to Montreal and one hundred percent staying here, but I don’t want to be with you.”I think it was the first time I was so blunt and honest in the moment with someone. I knew I was picky and certain things bothered me that weren’t his fault so at first I felt so guilty. This didn’t last long when I  found out from his friends that he took a photo of my clothed crotch close up and posted it on a nerdy forum for all his friends to see. Yes, that was wrong, but still not as wrong as him thinking we’d be staying together.

The next day I sent him a message addressing that I’d  be by to pick up my things which included, my OC DVD box set, and a scarf i’d left. He told me he would MAYBE be home so I suggested he leave my things in his mailbox if that's the case, to which he said “I don’t have a mailbox”, to which I thought, everyone has a fucking mailbox N. I walked over to his place, heart racing and awaiting the uncomfortable. I couldn’t help but notice his mailbox right away, clear as day. I heard N’s music blaring from the basement (he always did love that song “lollipop” by Lil Wayne). His Mom (who i’m pretty sure hated me because I took away from their breastfeeding time) answered the door. She welcomed me in to the front foyer while I listened to the faint trail of “lick lick lick lick lick it like a lollipop” from the basement.

His Mom came handed me the DVD’s and told me she’d grab the scarf from the closet. She had never been so pleasant with me, perhaps she was overjoyed that this would be the last time I would be coming around her house. She came back shortly with a scarf that one hundred percent wasn’t mine. “Ooops, sorry but that actually isn’t my scarf!” She smiled and took the scarf she had just passed to me, walking back to the closet when N yelled up at that moment, “MOM IS SHE GONE YET?”Never had I ever felt so much closure in my decision to break up with him. I tried not to laugh, bracing myself because it was almost over. His Mom, walking more quickly from the closet gave me another scarf that wasn’t mine. I laughed this time saying “Sorry, still not mine.”Now I could see she was getting annoyed, like it was somehow my fault that she had so many scarves. She came back and tossed me a silk Hermes scarf that once again wasn’t mine. This time I exclaimed loudly, “Thanks! BYE N.”And I walked out the door tossing the scarf in his mailbox along the way and laughed all the way home.