Is there a “Sweater Curse”?

I really like telling people that I don’t believe in the supernatural. But if I watch a horror movie and can’t sleep I become pretty convinced that ghosts are real. Likewise, I’ve never believed in the sweater curse (if you don’t know, it’s the idea that if you knit your partner a sweater before you’re married, you’ll break up) and yet, I have never knit a sweater for a boyfriend, not once. Until now. But we will get to that. 

What I have knit a lot of are breakup sweaters. 

What makes a sweater a breakup sweater? And why have I knit so many? Well, I am glad you asked. Oh, dear reader, allow me to explain.

Getting over a breakup required, in my experience, rituals. And knitting a sweater was mine. To be sure, I often also took a wine bath and watched sad movies and ate cake. But I think you’re all pretty familiar with these activities and they require no further explanation. 

My first breakup sweater, which I made over eight years ago, was a coincidence. The evening after that breakup it stormed terribly. I didn’t want to leave the house, and I had happened to get yarn earlier in the week for a sweater. With nothing else to do, I dove in. And it was perfect. Casting-on required focus and counting; it was a great distraction from those inevitable early waves of sadness. I knit my way through the short rows that evening.

Knitting is a slow hobby, even if you are a fast knitter. And getting over heartache, as well as the romantic ennui after a breakup takes time. So much time. Too much, really. Ugh, the hours I spent feeling sad about men! But starting a new sweater was and is the perfect antidote to self pity, the perfect antidote to heartbreak.

As I relaxed into the yoke of that first sweater, I began to look toward a future, both for the garment taking shape and for myself. I wondered who I might be by the time it was finished. When I went through another difficult breakup a few years later, I remembered that sweater and cast on again. Making something always brings a sense of capability and pride, but a sweater asks for weeks, sometimes months, of commitment. As the stitches accumulated, my feelings shifted too. I moved through sadness and anger, knitting them into the fabric, until by the time I bound off, I had arrived at acceptance.

And so here I find myself, eight years, and many sweaters later, in love, engaged, four months from my wedding. 

As I sat down to write about the sweater curse I realized I haven’t thought about those sweaters, those exes, in years. That’s what love does, I think? And that’s what time does. Spirals outwards and back over itself, allowing us to see the moments of our lives from a new perspective. Allowing us to move forward. 

I am glad to have a tangible recording of all of those intense feelings. Even years after the fact, when I pull out one of those sweaters I am flooded with memories and reminded how lucky I am to be able to feel deeply, to feel at all.

Which brings us back to the sweater curse. Pretty much from the moment we met I wanted to make my now fiance a sweater. But I didn’t say this out loud. Not to anyone. The longer we dated, people would start to ask and I always demurred. I think he thought the curse was an excuse for me to not do it. Men’s sweaters take a long time! 

But in my heart of hearts I didn’t want to do anything that might, in any way, practical or cosmic, risk this relationship. This is the kind of magical thinking that has no basis in reality but takes up a big part of the emotional landscape if you are a chronic overthinker, like I am. 

The truth is being in love is scary. Knitting a sweater for someone else means admitting you dream of being with them in the future. It is a huge investment of time and personal effort, a tangible expression of the love you feel and hope they reciprocate. And this December I was finally ready to knit my partner a sweater. 

I think that people believe in the sweater curse because we let it become self-fulfilling. As I chose the yarn, showed Luke pattern options, made my gauge square, I didn’t feel any fear that this would cause a breakup. I just felt excited to make something for someone I love so much. 

Those other relationships didn’t end because of one wrong thing I did or said. Knitting a sweater for someone can’t make anything happen or not happen. The Meredith of eight years ago knitting that break up sweater would cringe to know I am typing this, but when something is right, sometimes you just know. 

Over the weeks that I knit Luke’s sweater we watched movies and cooked meals and walked our dog. We planned our wedding and visited family and decorated for the holidays.  We saw friends and had quiet nights and continued building our life together. All of those moments are knitted into it, along with a good bit of Arlo’s fur and probably some strands of my hair. 

When I sewed on the buttons just a week ago and he tried it on we both smiled. It fit perfectly. He slipped his hands in the pockets and asked if I wanted to come with him to walk Arlo. We stepped out into the cold afternoon, in no hurry, with nowhere particular to go, ready for whatever comes next.