Furniture shopping and doing without

I ain’t gonna lie, creating a home is a lot of fucking work, something I have never needed to work at considering that I have been a nomad for the last 6 years. Since your author has (for the first time) her name on a lease, I thought that it was time for some proper furniture. I’m not talking Pottery Barn nor Crate and Barrel or any other bourgeois furniture company. No, no, I am talking about actually furnishing the apt with something more than just a bed and a TV on the floor. And like all yuppies who are cut off from their parents, I am off to Ikea to find the perfect bedroom set, one that highlights my serious yet whimsical personality, the perfect bedroom set that as soon as you walk into my bedroom, you will know that I am an educated world traveler who loves writing, and anything else that would make you love me.

I am off to the armpit of America Jersey to get my yuppie furniture.

As great as having a gay faux boyfriend who I live with (companionship, making me feel better when I am in a sour mood, a shared love of Madonna, etc.), it sucks because he is actually gay. And its not the lack of sex because Peter and Ichi keep me well entertained. It sucks because, like most gay men, he works in retail so we are never off on the same days. Such as the weekend when most people go furniture shopping. Needing furniture because my floor is covered with my clothes and my esoteric books (ex.The social construction of reality—aren’t I so fucking smart?) I decided that I have to go to Ikea ASAP. First of all, I should preface that I am horribly ADD. Big stores such as Ikea are very very dangerous for me since I get sucked into needing all the little crap that I see. Not only do I waste all of my money because I think I need the French Press coffee maker but I also waste a shit load of time because I get easily lost in thinking of various permutations and combinations with the furniture and color swatches, etc.

Just so that you understand, I loathe big stores. And, to make matters even worse, I hate the crowds that go along with them.

I devise a simple strategy. I will go online, make a specific list of things that I actually need…no making exceptions for the cute green table or whatever crap that I am known to impulse buy. Take an early bus, give myself 1.5 hours to get out of Ikea so that I could come back to NYC to go paint shopping and paint my room.

Who the fuck am I kidding?!?

As you are reading this, you must be laughing your ass off. The girl who has no self control, who won’t even curtail her drinking for the sake of her job…is going to curtail her ADD/spending/dawdling problem when she goes to the budding yuppie mecca of furniture shopping?!

So in preparation for my shopping trip, and continuing the lie to myself, I browse the website and pick out the dresser and the bookcase that I want. I add it to the list that I am “not allowed” to deviate from and begin to strategize how I could carry the crap home by myself.

“It’s Ikea!” I rationalize, “How much could this cheap crap weight? I could tuck the dresser under 1 hand and the bookcase under the other! If it is too much for me to take on the subway, I could always take a cab.”

I guess those Swedish people are doing a better job making that crap than it looks like because the dresser alone was 77 pounds! Even if I actually was going to the gym and pumping iron instead of drinking myself into oblivion…there is no way that my LI girl ass could ever pick that up with both hands, let alone one hand. To give you perspective, some airlines won’t let your bag be 77 lbs. As in the big burly bag handlers won’t even pick that shit up.

Unfortunately, I come to the realization that the dresser and the bookcase are too heavy after I spent 3 hours in Ikea, sat on the bus ride from hell complete with a bus driver who got lost and having to listen to yuppies say, “I think he is kidnapping us.”

If I was the bus driver of the Free Ikea bus to transport NYC yuppies over labor day weekend to buy a Kippan or whatever cute Sweedish word used to describe a trashcan, I too would have gotten “accidentally” lost. And I think it was “accidentally” because he “accidentally” turned off the A/C on the bus. And “accidentally” didn’t hear us after we repeatedly asked him to turn it back on.

So, as you are judging from the way the story is going, I found out that I couldn’t carry the furniture back AFTER I spent 3 hours shopping, looking at crap that I do not need/figuring out all of the furniture combinations that I could. I wasted an entire fucking day. A day of my labor day weekend because I had no friends to help me carry it home.

The ride home was far more uneventful, I was just hurt and pissed. First of all, I hate asking friends to do me a favor. But I sat there on line asking my friends and then giving them graceful outs because it sucks to help other people move and it sucks more having to drive from LI to NJ to NYC to help carry up a 77 lb unassembled dresser. And the only person who I feel comfortable asking is my gay faux boyfriend because I helped him move into his first apt at 3am in the cold rain.

So there I was, at Ikea, standing on line calling everyone who I knew to help me out and not really wanting them to help me out because that is a hella big favor to ask someone. At my wits end, I do what all well adjusted yuppies do. I call my parents and blame them for not loving me enough (I mean, shouldn’t they help their daughter move into her new apt?!?!). My mother, at first is helpful,

“Can’t you pay them to deliver?” she asks.

“No, it is $100.”

“Oh, you are right, that is too much.”

Then she gets LI mother.

“Why don’t you go to Pottery Barn and get your dresser there. I bet they have free delivery.”

“Yes mom, BECAUSE A DRESSER IS $800!”

This conversation continues as she lists every single expensive furniture shop in NYC.

That is so not what I needed after wading through crowds who spoke no English, an over-crowded store, not being able to carry home desperately needed furniture. I did not need my mom to remind me that buying a dresser in NYC is sooo much more expensive. Nor for my mom to remind me that I cant rent a car from Ikea to transport it because I am such a shitty driver (3 tries and 2 states and I am the proud owner of a MA license!!) that I would get into an accident going through NYC traffic.

Hanging up with her, and listening to Frank Sinatra on my I-Pod on the way back, I get sappy. If I had a bfriend like all of my other friends, I would not be in this predicament. First I am left alone on my Sat nights as my friends are all having sex with the guys/gals who they are like practically married to and now, I am left w/o a dresser.

Like a new car, when everyone else has one, you feel you should have one too. Especially going furniture shopping by yourself and not being able to carry a 77 lb dresser by yourself. So, readers, I am issuing a challenge to you. If you are reading this, you have to like me. Even if you can’t stand me because I am a pretentious name dropper who is filled with a false sense of self-importance, deep down, I know you care. Please help me find a boyfriend. I am not even picky anymore. I will even consider the “slightly larger than average” or whatever they call it on match.com. Midgets, missing limbs, 50+, I do not give a fuck. I just need to know that when I need to bring furniture home to my apt that there will be someone who I can call on to help me. And also someone to entertain me on Sat nights as all of my friends are out with their boyfriends. The only deal breaker are homos. I am sorry, I attract them on my own and if I wanted to spend my Sat night at a gay bar in the village, I would be hanging out with John.

Thank you in advance for your expeditious response.