I think I’ve worked out why some female spiders eat their lovers straight after having sex: it’s to save them the trouble of having to assemble an Ikea flat pack together.
Actually if I’m completely honest, I believe it would be much smarter to replace pre-marital counselling with the following key elements:
• The Couple
• A barren room
• A flat pack Ikea bookcase
• A leather lounge that doesn’t quite fit through the door
• A 3D TV
• A Foxtel box
• ONE allen key
• 10 different, yet oddly similar cords.
Then, together, Survivor-style, they have 1 hour in which to set up the room with a fully assembled bookcase, couch in mutually agreed position, fully functioning Foxtel, and TV with all of the channels tuned in.
When they complete this challenge without stabbing each other in the eye with the allen key, then - and only then - are they free to marry.
And this isn’t just the opinion of a woman who has been
imprisoned blissfully married for 15 years. No, this has now been backed up by SCIENCE.
Which of course, is the very definition of irony because we all know that the one thing that won't fix our relationship is an unassembled Ikea bookcase, 457 screws, and an incomprehensible 32-page booklet in an isolated room.
In fact, just the act of of meandering through Ikea is probably enough to determine if you’ve got what it takes to survive in a relationship. After walking past the perfectly designed kitchen, romantic bedroom and fun-yet-practical lounge room, it's only a matter of time before World War III starts because suddenly you’re arguing who cooks the most and how your sex life is shot to shit and where in the HELL is that lounge going to fit ANYWAY?!
* Ahem *. I digress.
So yes, Ikea, notoriously known for busting up relationships, is ironically now being used as a tool to bring them back together.
I guess the whole problem with Ikea is this: it brings out the dirty word in all of us – compromise. Suddenly negotiations are taking place over dish racks and salad bowls and fucking Billy bookcases that we never even realised we needed. From the minute we park in the too-full car park right up until we have to find our particular purchase in the dedicated aisle and row, we will argue over ridiculous things. Like for example, if we should use a trolley to cart our goods to the checkout. My own personal conversation on this matter went
a little something exactly like this:
Me: We should get a trolley, this bookcase/bed/kitchen marble bench top will be heavy.
Him: Nah, I’ll just carry it
Me: It’s pretty heavy, let's get a trolley
Him: I can carry it
Me: It won’t hurt to grab a trolley though?
Him: I said I can carry it
Me: Fine then! You can probably carry it on the end of your cock then can’t you if you’re so tough.
Him: (Stares at me like I’m deranged)
Me: (Am by this stage, deranged)
Him: (Attempts to lift the box from the shelf.) “Maybe we should grab a trolley”
Me: Go fuck yourself.