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.