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oh the from the New York Times and w you are Boston. This is modern the stories of love loss and redemption. I'm your host magnetar puberty, the you know the phase, the one where you're going back and forth between your place and your partners, and you have to bring all your stuff with you. But when time to make a change. The clever, see right about that question. In her essay secured in a bright, yellow suit case. It read by the steel Hendricks. She started Joan and madmen, and you can see her now in good girls, unambitious. On more than one occasion, I have

Old, my bright, yellow, carry on suitcase into the I sent a Monday morning to the confusion of my co workers for ITALY, go this weekend, they would ask the Hamptons no. I would reply. Ninety fifth and Broadway. My suitcase contains little pots of beauty products, samples, is toothpaste. Am I, shampoo TSA approved three ounce bottles, I have a folding hair, dryer folding toothbrush. And a folding dont get to keep everything organised. I my heels and sneakers complement each other shape in one corner of the suit case. With my delicate losses. Tightly rolled in the other, as I must be prepared for morning meetings happy hours dinner plans,

and snuggle sessions. Ultimately, I asked to pack everything I need without, interesting that my boyfriend is my everything. When our relationship began I would arrive at his place with a nonchalant canvas tote shoving and cheap wrinkle proof dresses for the next day. as if our sleepovers were accidental Eventually, I graduated to a larger tote, that I used to carry groceries a fifty pound weight threshold. enough for several outfits a bag, a pair of shoes and my dignity. more recently, I transition to the yellow carry on I call my

rolling suitcase of inferred permanence, which has been at To call delight with it, Capacity and portability, I'd from then his Torreon clack of its wheels, those I approach his apartment or leave mine. I knew burn must assume. I am constantly catching flights to more exotic locations. Then my boyfriend's walk up apartment. each passing month, silently confirm That he and I are heading towards permanence. my little shampoo resides next to his oversized body, wash like a petite and confident counterpart. I have my own towel that I place and a hooker sent his after each use my race, It has found a cozy spot in the shower rack. My book club pick sits atop his desk, ready to serve as refuge when I'm tired of watching his favorite bollywood movies,

I once lived with the previous boyfriend mixing our possessions with hope, as I relocated from New York to Miami his city of the moment I shot. for decorations that weren't overtly female. Settling for shades of royal blue. That reminded me of the ocean that almost kissed our backyard, The bad in fresh linens golden yellow, throw pillows to add touch contrast, She never understood. I found beautiful tray for him to neatly places keys and the contents of his pockets when he got home from a long day painted a canvas above our bed with childlike enthusiasm. The same this that it then play found itself propped against the dumpster. When a year and a

After we moved in together, our relationship ended bound by a lease and messy emotions. We remain gather for months as I combed the apartment thread by thread. an rattling the items that were mine, his or ours. the espresso machine, could be his. I guessed he We did love it the rest of the kitchen stuff was mine. Assuming, wherever I landed next, would have a proper kitchen in need of my ever growing collection of witty coffee mugs. He could keep the television. He couldn't fit in my car anyway,. our books mingled on our shared shelf. My possess is peppered his desk drawers. I took Sins of our brief life, together, put them in boxes.

and loaded them in my car, action of a memory in the front seat, a sliver of disappointment in the back seat. I left our place with the bed made and the throw pillows he hated so much fluffed, sitting tall to serve an insulting reminder of me in his bed. If that passes, I make timid movements towards a new life with someone else, this time I have made it easy to round up my things and leave quickly. Always one bag away from walking out the door A few months ago, I did just that

In a storm of anger and insecurity, I gathered my things in a well organised frenzy. He called me back to the apartment, as I was told away with my bag of closed toiletries unused tupperware as I stepped into a cab. He ran out to the sidewalk bewildered by the ease in which I was running away in an instant, I was gone for me. There was comfort in that and having nothing to tie me down nothing. too big to remove at a moment's notice. Should we decide. We don't want this anymore.

There is no painted canvas hanging over our bed. Only a travel size shampoo in his shower that serves as an act of hope for one more game just like the one before and the before that. Unlike me, my boyfriend is an eternal optimist. He is unscarred and without a broken heart to reference as I If each item behind with hesitation, he welcomes it with confidence his enthusiasm is both endearing. and naive if he only knew how hard it was to piece my life back together after I return to New York City for my breakup, I like

divided and here I am either a total fool. Our total romantic It all back up again. With each passing day. tried to make tiny declarations of comfort with our emerging lives. The omen milk. He bought just for me since, like a trophy in the refrigerator his reminder to meet that I'll be back graceful evidence of our relationship can be traced back to me through a collection of my pink sock, in his drawer Links by his bedside right up to my extra pair of heels, he left for me by the front door. As my bag gets lighter, I must admit

My anxiety about our transient, romance as he is to just when I be and to feel settled here I would hope to India for a month. I returned to my apartment for the first time in a long time and empty, my belongings from my tote, my laundry been haphazardly, attended to and was piling up against my bedroom wall, the food my refrigerator seemed disappointed in my lack of concern for its condition. Seemingly aware that I had been cooking in someone else's kitchen and rolled my sweaters. We a Charger that had been lost at the bottom of my layers and started to put my things back in their proper place, but the proper Didn't seem to be all that exciting anymore. As weeks went by I counted down the days until he returned. I spotted

Men on the train, making the trek to and from their overnights feeling like a defector from the tribe. I felt naked with my little purse that held nothing more than a lip balm and a few credit cards. at times. I would have this overwhelming sense that I had forgotten something. Only to realize it was my suitcase that I was missing. The exasperating appendage that I had cursed over the past year had also become My security blanket That its presence meant he was on the other end of my journey one night, I found his undershirt my laundry had somehow landed in my clothes. During the crossfire nights. Between his place in mind,

it smelled like his laundry detergent. I felt an immediate yearning to find my suitcase that have been recuperating in the calm of my closet and fill it with a weakens worth of close is nothing appealing about my dresser drawer anymore him to come home, wanted to be waiting for him sling bag and all he flew back of my birth day. The same day, I was flying back from a trip to San Francisco. My yellow rolling suitcase reacquainted itself with his oversized duffle in the kitchen. As he held me in his arms his chest, smelling like somewhere. I had never been. I have a birthday gift for you. He said

As he unloaded packages from his closet wrapping paper was covered in traditional indian print pops up and blues intertwined with shimmering gold, and inside was a purse. A purple and the satchel covered with the image of an elephant. My mother helped me pick it out. He said. It fit only the essentials, my lip balm credit cards and an extra pair of underwear just in case. it was a fraction of the size of my usual overnight tote and incapable of holding multiple outfits had no wheels. Nothing close fifty lb capacity, but just like him,

It had traveled across the world for me. much farther than my commute across Manhattan. It's as if he just wanted to take the weight off my shoulders

So I let him Christina Hendricks. Reading Deanna Clever sees essay security. Bright, yellow suitcase will catch up with Deanna after the break.

Before the work messages begin to pour in, let's give ourselves a good morning. a good morning as a moment to pause and ease into the day. It's a moan to run and chase the sunrise or to gently Into your routine a good morning, is a moment to be present to find clarity and beeg, finish for the day ahead. Good days start with good mornings and good mornings start with Yogi tea Yogi tea. Tease me to do more than just taste good.

I love spelling bee my boyfriend and I often play spelling bee together by together I mean sitting next to each other playing individually and not cheating. Sometimes when I open outgoing d- and I see that you have completed a few words on your own, I feel a little betrayed in sorry. It may have happened again today. I have one friend who I will send screenshots from spelling bee of inappropriate words that I always get nervous that I sent it to my parents or something like that when my dad was like the first time together and I was out- I think I got it- see it J, a c k, P, o t jack. We hit the jackpot, panicked, yeah, Elrond, nice, I'm same as earth's sky. The digital pulses editor for the New York Times. You can try spelling bee and all our games at n, one times dot com, slash games.

Deanna, Clever, see actually has a new ass name now she's going by Deanna Patrice because there's been big change, since her essay came out in two thousand and sixteen so well spoiler. Alert, We got married. We got married three months ago in India, where he's from so It was a happy ending, so it worked out for all but you told us that the relationship almost didn't get started. She was using a dating app. The time only give you ten matches a day, and if you didn't swipe left or right on any of us. Ten matches the kind of state in Europe. pool until you went through them and I was at work and I had barely any service, and The profile pictures loaded there

Boxes- and I said mary- yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, ship, so that I could get to the next batch centrally and tell when we matched he immediately reached out and said: hey. Would you like to meet and his profile picture was horrible? Deanna almost didn't go on that date, but her friend convinced her otherwise

so I showed up with no makeup on no heals, nothing like I would normally do for a first date. We met Madison Square Park and he came through the park and he was so handsome and I was shocked and all of a sudden, so self conscious, and that was really that we saw each other four times. I think that week and he ended up- he actually proposed in Madison Square Park where, where we met but Deanna, says that she and her husband had to negotiate some challenges living and being in an interracial relationship across these cultures is very complex and it can be really difficult, but I feel like neither one of us ever thought that there was another option it just had to be. Just had to be us, And that meant finally unpacking her suitcase.

Anna told us about the questions she asked herself as she was making that choice. What's major risk here, what do I have to lose? I think beginning, I didn't have much to lose. It was okay Don't want me, I'm out. I felt lot of power at that, but then, as the relationship progressed. It was a good. I have to lose a lot like if I keep on assisting this relationship. If I keep on making it easy for me to run. If I keep on making this a temporary thing, I have a to loose. Now I will It was him. Deanna still has the yellow suit case. Although she says it's a little dilapidated these days, I dont know what I will do when I really have to retire deal a suitcase April joked about turning it into a piece of furniture or like hanging up somewhere. I dont know I feel, like the Us Uk presents a lot of hardship and strength and the jury. That we had together and think really let it go,

that's Deanna, Patrice she's, a writer and poet based in New York City. We got more from Dan Jones and Christina Hendricks after the break.

I love spelling my boyfriend and I often play spelling bee together by together I mean sitting next to each other playing individually and not cheating. Sometimes when I open up spelling bee- and I see, but you have completed a few words on your own, I feel a little betrayed in sorry. It may have happened again today. I have one friend who I will send screenshots from spelling bee of inappropriate words that I always get nervous that I sent it to my parents or something like that when my dad was like the first time together and I was out- I think I got it- see it J, a c k, P, o g jack. We hit the jackpot, panicked, yeah, Elrond, nice, I'm same as the sky. The digital puzzles editor for the New York Times. You can try spelling bee in all our games at Enron, times dot com, slash games.

here's Daniel Jones editor of the modern love column for the New York Times. What I love about Diana's essay is this sense of how she was. You know she had her, broken and found it hard to extract herself, because her stuff was All combined with her Ex Stuff and how she. Decides that she's going to be like a turtle carrying her own pack on her back, going to be the self contained unit it it. Just speaks to how independent we try to be and how self protective we try to be

especially after heartbreak, and you know not being vulnerable means carrying everything that you need with you and not spreading yourself into another person's life until you're sure that that's going to work and here's Christina Hendricks, I loved her sense of humor. I thought she seemed like she was talking to a friend I liked that she seemed sensitive and scared and vulnerable and sometimes snarky all at once, because I think we can be so. I thought she was really wonderful at putting a voice to an essay that sounded like a conversation, and it made it really fun to read thanks again to Christina for reading this week's essay, you can see her in good girls on NBC next week, Isabella Pair. Finally, I level with him I told him he had written what I took to be a love poem and in doing so

Over time he defended himself saying the point was an attempt to make me more emotionally committed to measure up. I want to get too into therapy nodding to bed, and this week we ve got a little news for us. It's really sad, but for him it's amazing John Perotti has been with modern love since its beginning and has worked on each of the one hundred forty five episodes that we've released his incredible ear, perfectionism have shaped everything about the way this podcast sounds: he stood out in a Boston winter recording the sound of music coming out of a car stereo recorded high heeled, in a garage and fought with his co producer about exactly which train whistle sound to use in an episode cuz. Those were the details that matter he's directed

pictures and written scripts he's dealt with me when I can't read those scripts or I insist on editing them again and he has never held back from telling us when something sounded bad and how to make it better, because he has made everything that we do better and more Weren't John, is a genuinely good human being all of them. High standards come with a great heart and patience. Johns. A really rare combination of everything, you'd hope for in a colleague and friend, and now John is off to an exciting new adventure. We will miss him so much So we wanted to send John off with especial goodbye The EU

Modern love is the production of the New York Times and W B you are Boston, NPR station, its produced, directed and edited by Jessica Airport, Kate, little Keith and for a triumphant final time, John Parodi original score. and sound design by Matt read the eye. For the modern love. Podcast was conceived by LISA Tobin Iris learn. Our executive producer, Daniel Jones, is the editor of modern love for the New York Times, an adviser to the shop music for the part cast courtesy of appear. I'm making trapper body see you next week. The.