The ex-factor. We all have to deal with it. She’s in most of the family photos you spot at his parents’ house. She comes up in casual conversation when he brings up last year’s Fourth of July family outing. And when you ask where he got that button-up shirt you like, your heart stops as he nonchalantly mentions her name-again. Though she’s gone and you’ve graced his life, taking her place, everything around you is a constant reminder that she exists. “That was her sofa first. She slept in this bed. I bet she picked out those curtains… I wonder if he held her like this.”

Questions like this plagued my mind when Mr. Unexpected and I dodged off into relationship bliss. I was the new love of his life, but subconsciously, I was competing with a memory.

Then the memory slapped me in the face.

When I decided to surprise him by cleaning his house during his weeklong out-of-town business stay, I took it upon myself to do his laundry. So there I was, playing housewife and picking up his freshly-cleaned garments, picturing the smile on his face when he returned home and found what I had been up to, when I couldn’t quite figure out where to put his basketball shorts.

He had two dressers, so I picked the one closest to the bed and began searching for the right spot.

Drawer number one: socks.

Drawer number two: t-shirts.

And behind drawer number three: a pile of short shorts, neatly folded.

My first thought was that Mr. Unexpected had an unexpected desire to bring back men’s shorts of the 70s. But as I examined the drawer closer, I realized the clothes were for a woman. In fact, every drawer in the dresser was filled with his ex’s size-4 miniskirts and tank tops. How delightful.

There it was, right in front of me: every thought I tried to suppress and every fear I tried to ignore. Before, all I had were ideas in my head of how this woman once had my life-or how I now have hers. I could only picture how they might have been together, how he treated her and how she treated him.

But there, in six dresser drawers, I finally saw a concrete glimpse of their life together. This was her dresser. This was her room-their room. And there I was, the new girl, completely oblivious to the depth of his past.

Most women would have blown up at that very moment-“What the hell is her crap still doing here!?”-followed by a violent rampage including, but not limited to, tossing her clothes into large black trash bags and throwing them into the conveniently located bayou behind his house.

But that wouldn’t have solved anything because none of that would have erased her memory. None of that would have taken back his past. And that’s when I realized I wouldn’t want that anyway. Without her, he wouldn’t be who he is-the man I love. Without her, he would have never found the “broken road” that led him to me.

Mr. Unexpected explained he forgot about the clothes, saying his ex was supposed to take them a long time ago, and promised they would be out the drawers (whether they were removed voluntarily or by force just in time for trash day) soon. And I couldn’t argue with that because he has given me no reason to doubt him. But somehow, the empty drawers were just as daunting as they were filled. And that was something I would have to force myself to get over because everyone has someone in their past.

I prefer to be the one who fills the empty drawers, replaces those old photos and creates new memories…I would prefer to be in the future.