Friday, July 24, 2009

If Only Ikea Sold Disposable Boyfriends As Well

It’s a very rare occasion that I actually miss having a boyfriend.

I am not a huge fan of sharing a bed with someone, so I don’t wake up wishing there was someone next to me.

I don’t travel all that much, so I am almost never in an airport, walking through the crowd of people wanting a significant other to run up to me, hug me and tell me how much he missed me.

I big hands, so I have never needed someone to open a jar for me.

Finally, I am very good with power tools.

However, yesterday I wanted a boyfriend; I was at Ikea.

See my mom has had me running all sorts of errands for her this past week. Yesterday, her Tati-Do list took me to Ikea to purchase a new kitchen island for her. Now, on the surface, Ikea seems like the ideal place for single people. A warehouse filled with disposable furniture -- perfect for the commitment-phobic single person that is not ready to pluck down serious dinero for a couch that could last a lifetime.

However, the self-serve area is really a place for two (or more) people.

I found the island with no problem, wrote down the aisle and bin number and then wandered through the showroom to see all the other wonderful things I could build myself. Finally I found myself in the self-serve area surrounded by large, flat boxes. I located a cart and wheeled it to aisle 19 bin 28 (or something like that). That is when I learned that the new addition to my mom’s kitchen came in two boxes.

I sighed. Looked at the boxes, looked at my cart, looked back at the boxes and that is when it happened. I wanted a boyfriend there with me. I wanted someone to help me pull the heavy box from the pile and put it on my cart. I wanted someone to help me steer the unruly cart to the check-out area. I wanted someone to wait with the cart as I ran out to the parking lot to get the car and pull it into the loading area.

And then when I got to the car I realized I really wanted a boyfriend. My whole body slumped as I closed my eyes and wondered why it didn’t occur to me sooner that I would need someone with me on this mission from mom.

I silently cursed Ikea and their anti-single ways.

But then the universe showed me just how silly I was being.

Before I began my struggle to get the first box into the back of my mom’s jeep, an old, overweight man that was wearing a knee brace asked me if I wanted help. I looked at him and almost laughed. Instead, I thanked him but assured him I could handle it. I then bent over and muscled the heaviest box into the trunk.


Anonymous said...

I'm always amazed by the young couples that you see in Ikea. I'm not talking like 25 young, but rather people who look like they are 19-22 and are buying furniture together. Just like you can't rent a car until you are 25, you shouldn't be allowed to buy furniture with a significant other until age 25.

Then again, when you break up, I guess Ikea furniture is easy to split in half.

sweetlilvoice said...

Damn right, you don't need any help. But it nice to know that people still have manners.

Kate said...

Those particle-board creations are damn heavy. I might want a team of boyfriends at IKEA to protect my lower back.