Ah, The Shirt. Sweatshirt in my case, the one my girlfriend used to borrow whenever she came over because I kept my apartment too cold. When she got transferred I actually kept it in bed with me so I could breathe her in at night. Two decades (and a marriage and a few relationships later) later I tell this to my fiancée (Deb) who suddenly starts wearing one of my sweatshirts (“Honey, do you need me to turn up the heat?” “No no, I’m fine!”) and then leaves it with me when she’s Germany for two weeks on an exchange program. This time I put the shirt on a pillow so I can get the scent *and* the feel of someone else in bed. (“You put the shirt on a pillow?” “Sure!” “… Okay …” “Is that alright?” “Um… sure, Jackster. It’s, um, cute.”) She married me anyway.