I forget when exactly my boyfriend told me that his parents were visiting, but I do remember that we had only been dating for about a month, and although I responded enthusiastically, I was practically lacing up my running shoes (Julia Roberts-style). I prayed that his next sentence would be, “So I’m sorry if I’m not around a lot,” but instead I got what I should have expected: “Want to come out to dinner with us on Friday?” If his arm hadn’t been around my waist, I probably would have been off the couch before he finished the question. But since I was captive, I grinned and said, “Sure!”

When I told my roommate, she was ecstatic. She asked me why I was so nervous, and I exclaimed, “Because they’re his parents!”

We’ve seen it all—there are parents who keep you at arms length (because, after all, you are stealing their child away from them), and others who love you instantly and send you Facebook messages and texts. But no matter what experiences we’ve had or witnessed with our significant others’ parents, we have an inherent fear of meeting the people who raised our boyfriend or girlfriend. Why has everyone decided that “meeting the parents” is such a major event—it’s just being introduced to some new people, right?

Wrong.

Yes, our parents are those obnoxious characters who call us to ask about grades and bug us to book our flights home for Thanksgiving. But odds are that they have spent more time with you than any other person in the world. They know you better, they have dirt on you (including naked baby pictures) and they understand how you work, as much as you may hate to admit it. When a person is that big of a deal in your life, introducing the person whom you are seeing to them is a way of saying, “You are important enough to meet this person who made me who I am. You matter.” And deep down, all parties involved know this.

So maybe the fear isn’t just of meeting the parents. It’s the fear that comes along with realizing how much someone cares about you. Your boyfriend or girlfriend is willing to deal with that weekly phone call that will now incorporate the question, “So how are you and [your name here] doing?” Someone bringing you into their lives in such an intimate way, beyond the realm of dorm rooms and dates, means that they’re in it for the long haul.

As far as my “meeting the parents” episode, it went amazingly well; my boyfriend’s parents were welcoming, kind and tons of fun; we even went out again the next night. And honestly, things have only gotten better since then.

We’ll see how he does next weekend—did I mention my parents are coming in on Friday?

Everyone has something different; I’ve heard of everything from lockets and mix CDs to a “Walter the Farting Dog” book and Canadian boxers. Personally, my romantic memoirs consist of calendar tear-offs and a stack of sweatshirts and cross-country T-shirts that could clothe a small village. (I should really look into that Goodwill donation.)

The way that we react to these findings can vary, but while keeping sweatshirts and good books may be functional, the general destination of these objects tends to be the same place as the relationships that they came from—in the trash. But it’s not that easy. Like it or not, every relationship that we get into has an impact on us. You can throw away that mix CD, but the next time you hear that song, no matter how many years later or how many miles away you are, it will be just like you are back on that date when he or she played it for you the first time.

My most recent reminder of this was when I went to Six Flags with a group of friends—an innocent trip, no special day. After too much pizza and roller coaster riding, we decided to go on a relaxing ride—“Hey, how about that one?” As I turned to see what my friend was pointing to, I immediately felt my heart speed up. While I agreeably climbed up on one of the wooden horses of the antique merry-go-round, I couldn’t help the heart-wrenching feeling it evoked in me. I couldn’t stop thinking that any minute, my ex would appear from behind me and jump onto the seat next to me, giving the same smile he gave me on our first date at the fair.

While most of my friends clowned around on their dancing ponies, I sat on my white horse and reminisced about how much fun we’d had. But then I smiled. Yes, it’s been ages since I’ve spoken to my high school boyfriend, and things didn’t end all that well. But in spite of that, it’s been long enough for me to realize that I wouldn’t trade what we had for anything—it was a great first love. Walking toward the exit, I was able to look back without feeling any real pain, just a warmth for what used to be.

So as far as those souvenirs are concerned, keep them with you; they’re important because every experience is worth something. Just don’t let them clutter up the room. Make sure you have enough space for that new hoodie on the hanger, for that new picture frame on your desk. In the end, it will all serve as a miniature museum of the fun you’ve had.

And come on, who doesn’t need a broken-in sweatshirt to study in or some T-shirts for the gym?