Wolfie

This is the story of Wolfie.  Alternatively: how Allie tried multiple times to get rid of probably the most valued thing from the ex but never actually could. 

Truthfully I cannot remember when exactly Wolfie came into my possession.  If I recall correctly, it was sometime while I was in London, but the exact time of which eludes me.  I want to say that I received him in the beginning, when my laptop was sent over (after being fixed since it broke on me days before I left), but part of me also wants to say that he was an Easter gift, received when the ex visited me that March.  Precisely when he was given to me does not really matter, however.  Wolves and dogs are my favourite animals, and because I am secretly a child still, I enjoy cute things.  Of course, this includes stuffed animals of most kinds. 

Every night I cuddled with Wolfie in place of my ex when he was not around.  When I was sad, I clung to him and stared into nothing or cried or something like that.  He was my favourite thing when I was over in the U.K., because he was a gift from ex, who was not with me in person.  It didn't take long for Wolfie to become incredibly special to me, even when I came home.  

I took him everywhere, basically.  Whenever I went on a trip, Wolfie came with me.  It was obvious to everyone that he was more than just a stuffed toy for me.  It was juvenile, probably, but he was important.  When I was lonely I would talk to him sometimes and feel better, or just cuddle with him and watch something to escape from any sadness I was enduring that day.  

When the ex broke up with me, I kept clinging to Wolfie.  He helped me once in overcoming loneliness, and perhaps he could help me again.  However, that probably made things worse, as he was a symbol of the ex and the fact that he would be there for me even when we were not physically together.  Part of me wanted to resent my little stuffed wolf, as I wanted to resent the ex.  But at that time, I could not.  Over and over I tried to deny that I still loved this man, who broke up with me in a particularly cruel manner and then betrayed everything he ever told me and what he said as the reason for breaking up with me within a month.  

During the back-and-forth that followed for a long time, I packed up most of the things that the ex had ever given to me during our relationship.  Anything I kept was because I had no emotional attachment to it and (admittedly), my desire to keep it overrode my desire to never see it again.  The book of reasons why he loved me (which I received with my laptop while I was in London), the cd he gave me (that I foolishly kept listening to after he broke up with me, including the secret track of his voice at the end), all the cards and notes he wrote for me, any physical pictures of us together...all that and more eventually went into a bag I stuffed in my closet.  However, I could not bring myself to put Wolfie in there as well. 

At one point, I was supposed to visit him during the summer.  This visit was not the surprise one I often refer to, but instead, it was planned.  However, a fight between us broke out, and I realized that visiting him was probably the worst idea in the world, especially given that I also wanted to stay over the weekend.  Rather than visit him, I decided to visit college roommate, and we had a fantastic time.  At one point, though, she took me to campus, and I went up to his room.  After he answered my knocking, I gave him that bag of stuff, telling him that I was tired of looking at it.  I then said bye and walked away, feeling kind of awesome, almost as if I was on a high.  I was barely out of the building when he texted me, telling me that I was being "intentionally mean," which he did not understand because he never was that to me.  One of my regrets is not going back into that building and returning to his room to scream at him and/or punch him in the throat repeatedly.   But I knew it would get particularly ugly if I did that, and college roommate and I had plans that required me to pay attention to the time.  Perhaps if I was alone, I would have.  But college roommate was very good at making sure I didn't do bad things when I wanted to. 

Anyway, despite giving back most things which he gave me, Wolfie remained with me.  I had even brought him on that trip, wondering if I would be able to put him in the bag and shove it into my ex's arms, partially hoping that I would.  But I couldn't.  It felt weird, as though I was abandoning something that I did not want to lose.  So I kept him.  And for a long time, I continued to cuddle with him. 

At one point, while I was still very upset about our breakup and about his quick ability to move on from me, I finally decided to semi-part with Wolfie.  I say partly because I still could not bring myself to actually get rid of him.  I constantly thought about donating him to a children's charity or something, but I still felt that weird sense of 'I'm abandoning someone,' whenever I walked on the edge of actually getting rid of him. So I never did.  He became a decoration; a permanent part of my bookshelf along with other trinkets and pictures.  I stopped taking him on every trip, and slowly, he just became a regular part of the room. 

However, I start thinking about everything whenever I pick him up (which is why I rarely move him).  I start reflecting and thinking and remembering things and how I felt, and what Wolfie once symbolized to me.  This whole thing came up because I was cleaning my room quite extensively yesterday, and in moving things around, I had to put him on my bed, which was where he once was all the time. 

It is more than a little weird, probably, that I put so much stock and thought into the fate of one of my stuffed animals. 

I don't think I'll be able to get rid of him ever, though.  Sadly. 

In unrrelated news of the day: Murray is being a little shit today and is getting on my nerves.  Blargh.