Most of us know the odds for divorce are high. So if we knowingly realize this then why do we get married? Is it for the thrill of the hunt or the capture of the prey? Relationships, whether corporate or emotional, have lost their way. The separations for both have become emotionally ugly and financially expensive.

This same principle could be said for corporate America, politicians and friendships.

The winds of change have blown in with a new type of idea, one that involves feeding off your close friends, loved ones, and the people you trust the most with your livelihood.

Once there was a time when your reward in life came at night before you slept. You knew that what you’d done during your day had made life better. You might not have saved the world, but the lives of the people you worked for or who worked for you were safe. In return, you knew that because of this, you and your family could trust in the same being done for you. Your job would be there waiting until you retired.

The current trend of leadership, both in corporate America and in our larger society, has changed this philosophy. The once strong, trustworthy leader has been outsourced and replaced by the suck-up, or as someone once said, “the minor demon,” not quite good enough to be the devil, but still the person who does his dirty work.

Agreements were once based on handshakes and “until death do us part.” Are those days really gone? Could they someday return? The days of respect could be put back to how they were during our great grandparents’ time. Their generation took great pride in respect—not only in giving it but also in earning it. What was once the goal of an entire generation seems to have been replaced with personal greed and downright nastiness.

Where jobs could be created, they’ve disappeared. Where great factories once stood now lie barren mounds of dirt. With the collapsing steel and broken glass lie the dreams of thousands of workers and their families. Good people with caring families. Was this all necessary?

Do we now gather to protest what was taken from us, or do we, like our grandparents, start over? We are the most advanced generation in the history of humanity; can we really do nothing more than complain about the spouse who left us? The leader who berated us? The boss who fired us?

When people get pleasure out of hurting our pride (or our feelings), the solution is simple. We ignore them and find a place where we belong. One thing is for sure: There are more of us than there ever will be of them. We have to separate ourselves from the people who would rather revel in our misery than profit from our success. If we wait for them to come around and realize they should’ve earned our respect, it will be too late. They don’t want our respect; they want us to eat the crumbs that fall from their table. Some people enjoy cutting jobs and playing games with people’s minds. They feed off the suffering and misery of others; they play games with people under them because no one will play with them at all.

So it’s time to leave.

Give them their ball and their bat, their wedding ring and their stapler, and let’s go. We are the best of great grandparents; we do what we do because we want to make people’s lives better. We want to have the trust of our co-workers and the respect of our friends. We will stay strong and we will love again once this romance has all but done and gone.

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?