I Am Doomed, or why I should never open my mouth

Maybe it was because the evening was so perfect that it would usually make me vomit. Or perhaps I just got caught up in the General Haze of Wonderfulness. Could also be that I just really like this guy. But for some reason, amidst the stars and the wine on Saturday evening, I expirenced a Moment of Crazy and asked eCrush Boy if he wanted to come to my place after work on Tuesday. My Loony Alter Ego even volunteered to cook dinner.

By All That Is Holy, what the f*ck was I thinking?

See, after we got done biking around Old Town Alexandria and having a wine and cheese picnic dinner thing (yeah, I said it was too Puketasticly Adorable for words), we headed back to eCrush Boy’s and I spent the night. But nothing happened, Interwebs. Well, at least nothing that I couldn’t tell my Grandmother about. With some editing. But anyway, the entire point is that I have seen the inside eCrush Boy’s apartment and it is Designer. There’s exposed brick and matching and furniture that didn’t come from Target. In fact, a lot of it is black and real leather and shiny. Very Male With a Sensitive Side And A Good Decorator. My place can’t compete.

My apartment is The Best Part of the ‘80s Meets Single Girl with Shoe Addiction. My two nice pieces of furniture came from Ikea and cost a combined $39. The uncomfortable green Poverty Barn Outlet couch I bought as a temporary sofa solution? Still in service after three years and now looking a little worse for the wear. Nothing else in the place matches. Even the carpet is in bad shape thanks to the recent Great Flood and Bionic Kitty’s stomach issues. It feels like I tried for Bo-Ho Eclectic Chic but only managed to achieve Garage Sale Passé.

While the logical, sane side of me says this should not be a big deal and that eCrush Boy will not be judgy, the insecure side is a bit more vocal. I have enough stuff working against me in this relationship; at least I would like to have an apartment that is somewhat on the same Adultness Level as his. It’s bad when I realize his couch costs more than my entire decorating scheme. I know I’ve perfected the Single Girl Lifestyle over the years. It’s low on desks and high on pedicures. Plus, I have felt no compulsion to invest in anything other than my 401(k) and Manolos. Generally, this works for me. Except now I have Somebody Coming Over and my apartment screams Loser Who Can’t Even Afford a Table. This part, I don’t like.

Frankly I am not even sure where I am even going to feed eCrush Boy. My dining table, which is the best that Bed Bath and Beyond has to offer, currently serves as my desk. Relocating my Mac and two tons of papers is not to be undertaken lightly. Most days I eat standing up in the kitchen. If I’m feeling really fancy, I will sometimes sit at the coffee table (which my dad lovingly made). Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t see the guy who has a dining table Ethan Allen describes as “modern glamour” standing around by the stove and eating the main course from the pot.

To make matters worse, there is a Bed Issue. I am not ashamed to admit that I only recently traded in my twin for a double. Heck, I probably would still be sleeping on that twin, if my brother and his fiancé hadn’t had a bigger bed in need of a good home. In theory, there is nothing wrong with a double. It’s perfectly adult and a socially acceptable size for small apartments. But as with all things in my life, disaster struck the bed when I agreed to take it: during transportation to my place, there was a small accident and the box springs broke. Nothing major or that demanded it be replaced immediately. It just occasionally collapses and I have to sort of jerk it back onto the frame about once a night. I’ve always intended to buy a new box spring. But I keep putting it off. Why replace the current one when there are shoes to be purchased and the collapsing doesn’t really bother me? But now I am wondering how quickly I can have one delivered.

And I haven’t even figure out what I can cook beyond Chinese Delivery.

World, this is me hyperventilating.


3 Responses to “I Am Doomed, or why I should never open my mouth”

  1. Laina Says:

    Call me. I will help you with the food situation.

    As for the seating…buy some big pillows and eat around the coffee table, chicky. You work with what you got.

  2. restaurantrefugee Says:

    I cannot assist with many of the issues you have outlined, however I can help with the what to cook part. The idea of a first meal for someone is ripe with possibility and pitfall. The trick is to balance something that appears to have required reasonable effort yet is easy and relatively fool proof in practice. Watch your email for my favorite first dinner recipe.

  3. laura Says:

    despite your worries, I’m sure it’ll go well. and if not, you can both have something to laugh about in 50 years when you’re old and gray together! And no, I don’t think I’m jinxing it! have a GREAT time!!!

    And if you totally panic about the dinner part, call Pizza hut, order their pasta, throw it in your own cookware and ta da! Dinner is served!

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