Memories of her or her


I once dated a girl with a collapsed lung.

Or so I’ve been told.


A colleague asked me if I was still dating the girl who was once sent to the hospital for a collapsed lung. Sadly, I remembered none of it.

But I did eventually figure out which of my exes fit the description.

Another one was sent to the ER when her car was totaled by a drunk driver. She was fine, but man, that was a scary night.

Two I’ve dated had IBS. Don’t ask.

One was suffering from depression. A couple were manic in general.

One had a thing about nine p.m. bedtimes, but I managed to bend that rule a few times.

A couple were crazy about their cats. A couple were crazy about their dogs.

Many were unhappy with their jobs. A couple were really raking it in.

Two or three freaked out my friends, but not all of them, and not all the same ones. Girl A might freak out one friend, but Girl B would freak out a different one.

Four left town during or after the relationship. One left the country. Three came back to town eventually.

One was a child of divorce, another lost a parent at a young age.

Three weren’t from around here.

One was into pot. They all drank. A couple used to smoke, but quit years ago.

One lived less than a mile from me. One lived less than 500 feet from me.

One had a roommate, while another lived at home with her parents.

None were cheated on by me, but one cheated on me, as far as I know.

They all had siblings, I think.

I went on trips with a couple of them. I lived with none of them.

And from time to time, I remember what they were like.


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