He's Starting Already!
May. 17th, 2009 03:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
porphyryI well knew that before Malkhos and I went shopping to help furnish this new house that we would disagree about what to buy, not necessarily because our tastes differ that much but because, quite simply, we are middle class. I'm more or less comfortable being middle class; he, however, has a sense of entitlement that derives from his sense of aesthetic superiority. I can't argue that--he does have good taste. We just can't afford it.
One place we part ways, though, is that he loves leather furniture and I don't. So while we were furniture shopping today, first thing he does is sits down on a black leather couch and makes himself at home.
"I hate it," I said.
"But why? I've seen pictures of Oscar Wilde sitting on leather couches. Won't that dissuade you from your insanity?"
"I've seen pictures of Oscar Wilde in prison, too," I replied. "Which reminds me, if I let you have your way, we'd be in a debtor's prison if we got all the things you want. It's a good thing there aren't debtors prisons anymore, unless you count credit card companies, which is about the same thing. I love Oscar Wilde as much as you--tell you what. You can have your leather couch if you promise to die on it and have a deathbed conversion to Catholicism like Oscar did."
"But this is the kind of thing they used to have in the gentlemen's clubs," he said.
"I don't think they have those anymore, either," I said. "Besides, I don't know why, but leather furniture always reminds me of a pimp."
He started to laugh at me so hard he brought on a coughing fit. When he recovered, he told me I was ridiculous. In the end, we compromised, agreeing on a couch (non-leather), tables, Dionysian-like lamps (they have pine cone accents) and a rather Klimtian-looking art nouveau-ish chair.
One place we part ways, though, is that he loves leather furniture and I don't. So while we were furniture shopping today, first thing he does is sits down on a black leather couch and makes himself at home.
"I hate it," I said.
"But why? I've seen pictures of Oscar Wilde sitting on leather couches. Won't that dissuade you from your insanity?"
"I've seen pictures of Oscar Wilde in prison, too," I replied. "Which reminds me, if I let you have your way, we'd be in a debtor's prison if we got all the things you want. It's a good thing there aren't debtors prisons anymore, unless you count credit card companies, which is about the same thing. I love Oscar Wilde as much as you--tell you what. You can have your leather couch if you promise to die on it and have a deathbed conversion to Catholicism like Oscar did."
"But this is the kind of thing they used to have in the gentlemen's clubs," he said.
"I don't think they have those anymore, either," I said. "Besides, I don't know why, but leather furniture always reminds me of a pimp."
He started to laugh at me so hard he brought on a coughing fit. When he recovered, he told me I was ridiculous. In the end, we compromised, agreeing on a couch (non-leather), tables, Dionysian-like lamps (they have pine cone accents) and a rather Klimtian-looking art nouveau-ish chair.
