My Apartment Exists for My Pleasure, Not Yours!

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I know I live in a state where people, especially men, believe that the world revolves around them. But, it reaches the point of ridiculousness when my apartment and its furnishings become a point of contention. Ever since I moved here, it feels as if  I’m always on the defensive. Everything I say seems to have an ulterior motive that I’m oblivious too. It’s a daily struggle for me to monitor what comes out of my mouth  and to keep my “offensive” comments and mannerisms to myself. I end each day exhausted and can’t wait to come home to my sanctuary. But as of late, even my pleasant little home has come under the scrutiny of people who fail to recognize it for what it is . . . my home.

I live in a quaint studio apartment that fits my cat, me, and our belongings perfectly. My furnishings are rather basic. I own a bed, a couple of dressers, and a bookshelf. I have one pot, two pans, and a table setting for two. I do not own a microwave,  nor do I have wireless internet service. My  13-inch TV/VCR combo is about 15 years old. I still watch VHS cassettes, listen to CDs, and use a land-line. Despite its modest furnishings, my apartment is a cozy and welcoming place. Most importantly . . . it works for me. So what gives anyone the right to critique it? Has the world become so full of narcissist, that even someone’s home isn’t protected from the “me” syndrome?

You may think this post is an exaggeration and sexist, but it’s not. In the two years I’ve lived in my apartment, I have yet to have a female guest comment on the inconvenience of my simple belonging, yet most male guests have felt the need to express their “disappointment” and “frustration” with my humble home. This last year has been worse than any other. It’s been full of accusation of me not “being up with the times,” and the insistence that I “NEED” a new TV.  Each time I hear this I want to scream, “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOME!!! WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” What give you the right to JUDGE me? To JUDGE  my home? AND to “FEEL” “DISAPPOINTED” that my home and life-style are an inconvenience to you?

What the FUCK is wrong with our society?  Why are we raising our sons to believe that they have the right to demand that others live by their standards? Why do they think they have the right to judge people by their belonging rather than the content of their character? I’m serious.

You know what? I may still own CDs but if you took a closer look at them, you might realized they’re all about 12 years old. I listen to most of my music on my cell phone. I may own a 13 inch TV but take a quick glance around my room and you’ll notice I own a 17-inch Macbook Pro, on which I watch most of my movies.  I may not have wireless internet, but I sure do use it every week at my local coffee shop. I may not spend my disposable income downloading music, or on updated electronics, but I sure do spend it on living life the way I want to. I’d much rather spend $200 on a weekend snowboarding, or a flight to the Caribbean, or on dinner with friends, than on some nice looking flat-screen TV that’s going to sit mostly unused in my apartments. There is nothing wrong with my lifestyle. So it doesn’t match yours? Who the FUCK cares. Get over it and be polite. If you don’t, I will tell you that you are being rude. I will give you a warning, and I will ask yo to leave if you choose to continue with your critiques.

Keep in mind that this is my home, not yours. It’s designed to please me, not you. If it’s too inconvenient for you, then don’t come over. But don’t walk into it, make a bunch of negative  comments, and then expect me to run out and “update” my appliances for your convenience. It’s not going to happen. My home is my sanctuary, and will remain that way until the day I choose to co-habitate with someone. And even then, it’ll become a sanctuary built on compromise.

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