Welcome to Ikea!
Can Your Relationship Survive A Trip To Ikea?
Oh sure, you'll make it through the store. You'll even make it to the parking lot and all the way back to your home (you know, the home that currently features a double mattress you've been sharing since the two of you moved into this dump — okay, not a dump, you promised you'd give it a fair shot — four months ago). You'll last through dinner and into the next morning, when the delivery truck arrives. You'll still be together when the nice men haul the flatpacks up three flights of stairs, and when you construct the fucking thing in two and a half grueling hours of labor, and right up until you go to lay the slats down and realize that they're THE WRONG GODDAMN SIZE, WHOSE JOB WAS IT TO MAKE SURE THEY WERE FOR A QUEEN, IT DEFINITELY WASN'T YOURS! And before you know it they'll be out the door, taking those goddamned slats with them.
If you can't even invest in furniture that costs more than $13.99 and isn't made of literal paper, how can you possibly invest in a future together?
Sure, it starts off harmless: "But if we put your shirts in here, honey, where will all of mine go? Haha!" And then, well: "YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU'VE NEVER MADE SPACE FOR ME. NOT IN YOUR DRAWERS AND NOT IN YOUR HEART. MY MOTHER WAS RIGHT, YOU KNOW — IF YOU COULD AFFORD YOUR OWN CONDO WITHOUT ME PAYING HALF THE RENT, WE'D NEVER HAVE MADE IT PAST ARCHIE'S WEDDING."
But it's just because you're both so boring nobody else will have you.
Even though the step stool is presumably so one of you can reach that weirdly high lightbulb, it's impossible to look at something meant to elevate too-short human bodies without thinking of a different too-short human body: a B-A-B-Y. Your beloved's parents won't stop bringing it up; your sister-in-law is already on what, her fourth? Jfc. You'll make it six feet into the kids' section before one of you falls to the floor, weeping and clutching a stuffed broccoli named "Torva."
What do you need all those for? How many messes (metaphorical and otherwise) are you expecting to have to clean up? Oh, I'm sorry, were you planning to do some DIY? Maybe café curtains, or a nice pillowcase? Face it: Those dish towels will stay dish towels, and the two of you will never take that trip to Tokyo.
Sure, this isn't the world's sturdiest or most attractive bookcase; it might not last for years, and it's definitely going to buckle under the weight of all those duplicate books the two of you have amassed (is that THREE copies of The Power Broker? Whatever, you do you). But it gets the job done. It shows up. The same way one of you waits in the endless checkout line while the other goes to grab a pair of those weirdly delicious ice cream cones. The same way you manage to wrestle the boxes home, and lay out all the pieces in front of you, and secure them slowly but surely. There'll be some bickering along the way, and the Allen wrench will vanish for a couple of heart-stopping moments before it's discovered next to the cat's litterbox, but you'll get it done. You always have, and you always will.
Do you know how tiny a loveseat actually is? It's supposed to be for two adult-sized humans, presumably entangled in the act of ~love~, but in reality one of you is going to sprawl out over the entire thing while the other grumbles about how you never touch each other anymore. Forgo the whole rigamarole and just call it quits now, before you have to deal with those horrible plastic Ikea bags they force you to buy at checkout.
This quiz does not pertain to you. You've got good taste, though.