Yesterday I removed a dusty purple wrap top with pendulous bell sleeves from my wardrobe. I rolled it up small and placed it in a bag, ready to be donated. The poetry of the shirt was very loud. The first and last time I wore it was on a first date at a wine bar with a man from Hinge. He was kind, sensitive, amiable. We saw each other across a few months but this weekend I sent the text that signalled I felt we were on different tracks. He said he understood, and thanked me for my time.