How To Move Out Of Your Boyfriend’s Apartment
Start by telling him the truth: you’re not happy here. You’re sorry, you feel awful, but this isn’t working out. Call someone in your life that loves you unconditionally and happens to own a truck or van, and ask if they would kindly come by and help you pack up your entire life. Chances are high that they’ve been waiting for you to come to your senses about this guy for a while now, and will be more than happy to help you out.
Politely ask your new ex-boyfriend to give you some space for a few hours. Once he’s gone, pack as quickly as possible. Pack only in garbage bags, because you can’t just leave garbage bags lying around for days or weeks, until you’re ready to face reality. You’ll have to immediately unpack everything, and be done with it. It’s better this way.
Start with the easy stuff, the things that have no particular memories attached to them — your clothes, socks, shoes. Avoid your underwear drawer for a little while. You’d be surprised at the range of feelings that a particular pair of panties can elicit post-breakup. Leave those more painful items behind (but eventually pack up your underwear). Disregard the framed photos of the two of you. You’ll want to take some of them with you, I know. There’s something too real about leaving them behind. But there’s no reason for you to hold on to them, and I’m willing to bet that you have every single one of those photos saved somewhere on your laptop, anyway.
Do not take a single stuffed animal with you. I mean it. It’s not cool for single people to have a pile of Valentine’s Day Snoopy stuffed animals present anywhere in their room. That’s only acceptable when you’re dating the person who gave them to you and you no longer fall under that category. So ditch the Snoopys, the Hallmark teddy bears — all of the innocent stuffed witnesses to your failed relationship. Or burn them.
Don’t leave anything behind that you think you might want to come back for. Coming back to pick stuff up just makes it look like an excuse to be in touch with him. And even if that was your plan all along, know that there’s a good chance that you won’t ever see that stuff again, which will just make you aggravated — on top of all of the other emotional crap that you’re feeling.
That being said, take the things that you want that are “his” that you feel you deserve. I’m not talking about raiding his precious collection of electronics, or taking anything that makes this worthy of being reported as a home burglary. But if you want his season three of The O.C. because it compliments your season’s one and two, then take it. He’s not going to ask for it back. Trust me.
Don’t take the kitchen stuff. Even if you love that cheap set of pans that your mom bought for you in college. Even if you actually purchased that kitchen table set yourself, somewhere other than Craigslist. You don’t want to think about this guy every time you scramble an egg, or sit down to dinner. Cut your losses and leave it behind. Let him deal with the fact that half of the things in that kitchen used to be yours.
Stop asking yourself if you’re doing the right thing. You are doing the right thing. It’s just that you’re used to feeling, well, right when you do the right thing. This constant lump in your throat; the broken, hollow feeling that’s dwelling in your insides isn’t what you normally associate with doing something good for yourself. Know that all of this is temporary. When you arrive on the other side of this experience, you will feel sure that this was the best thing you could have done for you. Be thankful that you have no plush relics left of that relationship (and of course, that you own the epic third season of The O.C.).
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“EPIC FAIL”…that’s what the Facebook message read that I had scattered across my iPhone after revealing my two year crush on this girl that has consumed my mind since the first day we met.
There’s a girl on the treadmill in front of me. Blonde hair, fair skin, fit—but thick where it counts.
You would have infinitives that you truly hold close to your heart and a couple of onomatopoeic mixtures of syllables that give music to your life. You would often be misunderstood, but you’d never be boring.
How terrible you used to be at holding your liquor, and the ridiculous combination of drinks you used to deem acceptable, such as Rikaloff and Hawaiian Punch served in a Nalgene.