IKEA, a woman's playhouse

Out of the frying pan - you'll recall, in my last column, a painful trip to Zara - and into the fire. Clothes shopping with my wife is seldom fun. Even back in the day, with girlfriends, it was only fun for a couple of outfits,preferably lingerie.

In this new cage match men are no longer the masters. Usually our expression-filled faces are now those of some sci-fi channel automaton. Normally we are in control of the final say regarding purchases. Not here brothers. Where is this place without televisions to keep track of the games ? It’s called IKEA.

The power of IKEA extends through the phone lines. A fellow brother call him DJ picked up the phone one day and his wife we’ll call her Sam told him she was purchasing a new leather sofa. He simply nodded and said, “OK” into the phone sight unseen. He was smart enough not to go but not smart enough to just let the phone ring. Behold the frightening power of the IKEA!

Like Charleton Heston said, “Soylent Green is people” I could just as easily hear him say, “IKEA is a giant dollhouse.” IKEA teases men with couches all over, empty refrigerators, and rooms with blank tv sets that don’t work. I am overwhelmed by the strange names Lycksele, Ivar, and Kastanj. What does it all mean?

I’m armed with the only thing she didn’t take from me: my trusty measuring tape. It seems the little numbers and lines coupled with holding a button with quick snap back action seem to scare women.

I communicate with other men by a type of tape measure morse code. A small bespectacled man with a pet mouse sends a message: “How long you in for?” I send back: “We just came for a couple of things, she said it would be quick.” His message before our wives gets wise to our communication. “I’ve been here since Monday afternoon, tell me where did Lebron go?” he asks. Just like that the guards are on to us and I am dragged to the kitchen department in silence. Shawshank moment “I wish I could tell you Daved fought the good fight, and the Sisters let him be. I wish I could tell you that but IKEA is no fairy tale world.

Over the speakers I wait to hear an authoritarian female voice say “What is the law? Followed by a chorus of beaten male voices, “Not to speak to other men in IKEA that is the law.”

Later I have an idea about the den/office space. I utter a word, a quick “Shhh” by my wife followed by “ No, no, you don’t know, be quiet.”

No matter what your living space looks like women are taken by IKEA, which incessantly changes the looks of the store, therefore, causing constant confusion in their minds.

I see a guy in uniform I say, “brother.” I find out he is working for the IKEA. He quickly turns me into my wife who drags me further into this beast.

Thanks to daddy’s little man Ty for getting grumpy and an unscheduled feeding, my IKEA sentence is shortened.

Shawshank moment: I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel. I hope I can make it across the parking lot. I hope to see my tv, and hold my controller. I hope the sofa is as soft as it has been in my dreams. I hope.