Naked in the City day 3

The Television Debate

    The great move has ended.  One problem has occurred, and perhaps I was a bit too yielding in my opposition.  I did not want to start off on the wrong foot by arguing about something that is not a major concern, and is much more a decorative issue.  Now, it’s possible that I have given up too easily and he will take more liberties and change the apartment to further suit his needs.

    The issue is the unannounced appearance of a very large flat screen television hanging on the wall in front of the couch.  This actually wouldn’t be a problem at all if it were a preexisting purchase that he brought with him.  I had approved the stereo system that cost more than my car, because he already owned it, and I do like good music.  No, he went out and bought it after he was almost entirely moved into my apartment.  He decided on a major change without asking me.

    Further problems follow.  My opposition to the TV now only exists in theory.  I had always thought of myself as being perfectly happy with a 13-inch screen, rabbit ears even if I didn’t need them, on a shelf, out of the way.  It’s just there for award shows and NY1; movies were watched on my lovely laptop.  The rest of my cheap entertainment comes from a well-worn library card, and a favorite chair, named Charlie, at B & N.

    I like the TV.  It’s cool.  It’s wide.  It’s clear.  It’s like I’m eating breakfast with Audrey Hepburn right in my living room.  I don’t want to give it up.

    So, now I’m stuck in a quagmire; does this dude, who isn’t supposed to be romance, or even fuck buddy, material, get me?  Not only that, does he get me in a way that’s even better than how I get me?

    The jerk just assumed I would like the TV, and he was right.  He also bought a DVD of images from the Louvre, with 1930’s expat jazz as background music.  His exact words were, “Here, I thought you might like this while you’re drinking tea.”  And I friggin’ do, I love it, it’s so relaxing, it’s like a meditation.

    Okay, what if he was a girl?  If he was a girl, I’d be okay with all of this.  I would be thinking about how great it was that she took the initiative and improved the apartment in a very generous way.  I would say, “You totally understand me, we’re going to get along so well.”