Ever since The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up hit bookstores in the U.S. in 2014, Marie Kondo has become a cultural phenom, her tactics shaping the way Americans evaluate their possessions and their hoarding habits. But when I first picked up Kondo’s tiny green hardcover, I thought, I’m a relatively organized person. What could I possibly learn from this book?

As it turns out: a lot—just not about my closet.

Kondo imagined her book would strike a chord with hoarders of past things, but it made me realize I was hoarding past loves. I’m a girl who’s spent more than a decade unconsciously filing away every failed relationship in the small chance that maybe one day the stars would align, I’d bump into an ex at a coffee shop, and we’d ride off into the sunset (or more realistically, on the R train) in some deleted scene from Love Actually. But as I turned the pages of Kondo’s book, I realized that holding on to these ghosts of boyfriends past was doing more harm than good—assembling a warped romantic matrix in my brain that was becoming increasingly difficult to escape. So as I finished the last chapter, knee-deep in my third bowl of Phish Food, I knew there was only one thing left to do.

I had to Marie Kondo my love life.

The KonMari method is based in the idea that you should surround yourself only with items that bring you joy; anything that doesn’t, you chuck. That’s not to say the process is an easy one. Anyone who’s watched Netflix’s Tidying Up With Marie Kondo or tried the KonMari method will tell you: Tossing something that once held sentimental value is hard. “It is human nature to resist throwing something away even when we know that we should,” Kondo explains, as if trying to make us all feel better about that feeling of inertia. “When you come across something that you cannot part with, think carefully about its true purpose in your life. You’ll be surprised at how many of the things you possess have already fulfilled their role.” Taking a long, hard look at my love life, it was clear just how many of my past relationships had “already fulfilled their role.” So I started adapting Kondo’s methods to help me emotionally declutter and achieve the ultimate dating nirvana.

Lesson one: Know when to let go. The first rule of the KonMari method is worth reiterating: If something brings you joy, keep it. If not, out it goes. She argues that when we can’t get rid of something, there are two reasons—“an attachment to the past or a fear for the future,” she writes. “If you come across something that does not spark joy but that you just can’t bring yourself to throw away, stop a moment and ask yourself, ‘Am I having trouble getting rid of this because of an attachment to the past or because of a fear for the future?’…. As you do so, you’ll begin to see…a pattern that falls into one of three categories: attachment to the past, desire for stability in the future, or a combination of both.” This hit me like a slap in the face. I‘ve done my fair share of holding on to a relationship simply because I was afraid to let go—or more frankly, afraid of the instability that would bring. I stayed with my college boyfriend after he’d cheated on me. I let a fling in my midtwenties drag on for years because he made me feel loved and important. I’m not proud to admit any of that, but it’s true. For much of my adult life, I got into the nasty habit of romanticizing my relationships, looking at them through rose-colored glasses until they morphed into flowery semblances of the truth. Like a fairy tale.

There’s a scene in the film (500) Days of Summer when a hopelessly in-love Joseph Gordon-Levitt swings by a party his crush is throwing and from there, a split screen shows two ways the next scene plays out—one titled “perception,” the other “reality.” (Spoiler: He gets the girl in one; in the other, he spends the entire party sulking in a corner.) So often I’d analyze my relationships through the lens of hopeful idealism, seeing what I wanted to see, not what was there. But just as Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s character ultimately learns, perception isn’t reality. Falling in love with the idea of someone isn’t the same as falling in love with someone, and it certainly doesn’t save you from heartbreak. If they don’t genuinely bring you joy, cut them loose.

Lesson two: Nostalgia is a bitch. In the past, the second any of my relationships ended or a Bumble date stopped messaging me back, my mind would go into hyperdrive, pulling every cheesy romantic memory into a sappy Hallmark highlight reel. When my last boyfriend and I broke up, I spent hours poring over old texts and Facebook messages, reliving our best moments in a desperate attempt to see when the cracks first started forming. (Tip: Don’t do this. It will only land you in a hopeless loop of DM convos with your lurking ex at 2:00 A.M. Not a place you want to be.) Kondo says feelings of nostalgia can and will derail the decluttering progress. Realize, instead, that your items (or in this case, relationships) have a shelf life. They brought you joy at one point, but they don’t anymore. So move on. And start getting friendly with the Instagram “block” button while you’re at it.

Lesson three: Trust your intuition. Kondo explains that judgment can be either intuitive or rational, and surprisingly, it’s our rational side that tends to make it impossible for us to let go. “Although intuitively we know that an object has no attraction for us,” she says, “our reason raises all kinds of arguments for not discarding it, such as ‘I might need it later’ or ‘It’s a waste to get rid of it.’” Going with my gut helped me weed out the relationships I instinctively knew weren’t going anywhere. Like that Hinge date who loved The Lumineers. (Just because he knows all the words to “Ophelia” does not necessarily make him The One; they have a very large fan base.) Doing this allows you to tap into a deeper understanding of who you are and what you want so you can find a partner that fulfills you—and feel more confident in your partnership once you do.

Lesson four: Practice gratitude and empathy. As odd as it sounds, Kondo wants you to consider your items’ “feelings” as you move through the tidying process. Before tossing any of your belongings, you must thank them for their service. On the flip side, if you’re keeping them, be considerate of how and where they’re kept in your home. This conscious organization supposedly leaves you with a greater sense of peace. The same goes for relationships. If you want a partner to have a permanent home in your life, act like it. If they bring you joy, tell them. It’s straightforward, really: Treat your person with the respect and care you want them to give you. If you’re letting them go, be grateful for what you learned from the relationship and tactfully move on.

Lesson five: Accept the pain. A key aspect of the KonMari method is making conscious decisions about who and what surrounds you. But being honest with yourself about how you acquire things—or relationships—can be both humbling and embarrassing. Says Kondo, “It forces us to confront our imperfections and inadequacies and the foolish choices we made in the past.” It’s not easy to look at yourself critically or to acknowledge your flaws. Going through this dating decluttering process, I realized that fear had been a major catalyst for so many of the decisions I’d made. He’s losing interest? Break up with him first. Things going well? Pull away to see if he’ll hang on. My fear of abandonment was so great that I overcompensated by trying to control the uncontrollable. But it was only when I started recognizing these patterns that I was able to start practicing healthier ones, like communicating openly and honestly about whether my trust was being tested, whether the relationship was moving at the right pace, and whether, at the end of the day, I felt valued and appreciated.

Applying Kondo’s words to my love life felt a lot like an emotional gut renovation. My past relationships had, in one way or another, kept me locked in a damaging romantic continuum where my focus was on what could be rather than what was there, right in front of me, in the day to day. Letting go of the people who didn’t bring me joy allowed me to make room for the things and the people who do. Today dating feels easier, largely because I’m grateful: grateful for what I’ve had in the past, grateful for what I have now, grateful for what’s to come. Marie Kondo’s methods can sound kooky. But I challenge you to rid your romantic closet of all your what-ifs so you’re left only with what is—what is bringing you joy.

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