The Gateway Candle

I moved a candle into Chet's apartment last week. I bought it strictly for that purpose and I even bought a lighter to live there, too. I smuggled it in one night when Chet was at work and I was there puppy sitting. At the end of the night I just put it up on the table out of the reach of the puppy and went home. I deliberately contaminated Chet's man space - although to be fair I did pick out a manly color scheme of brown and cream. (Vanilla and mocha...mmmmm) I think there is a rule that says you can't force floral candles on them until you have been dating for three months or something like that...

Now all the crazy, commitment-phobic men out there will think that this is some sort of plot to take over his apartment. I am sure that there is a significant population of men that think we have some secret cult where we plan out our invasions. That's right, boys...you didn't really think we went to that many 'cooking' parties did you? (ok Betty...its week eight...time to place the potpourri sachets in his dresser drawers) To shoot down other theories about the candle placement.....this is not my way of 'marking' my territory, I am not trying to get Chet more in touch with his sensitive side, and I do not have a secret product placement deal with Glade.

Quite simply, I am a nester. Big time. I like to create my world around me to my specifications. (Some people interpret this to mean that I am a control freak, I think it just makes me particular in a fun, quirky kind of way) Not that Chet's apartment is a crazy bachelor pad or anything - he has real furniture, things on the walls, dishes that are not made of plastic or paper....but it is definitely the home of a man. No fluff. And fluff is kind of like comfort food to me sometimes, so as you can see....I really had no choice. The candle was necessary. Now that I spend a significant amount of time in Chet's apartment, it is imperative that I surround myself with my comfort fluff. And really, how dangerous is a candle?

In itself, it isn't too bad. But let's use a drug metaphor here just for fun. The running argument against marijuana use isn't that it is so dangerous in of itself, but that it is a gateway drug - opening up a Pandora's Box of all types of other, scarier, harder drugs. Marijuana isn't the drug problem, but it has all kinds of implications. This candle? This candle is my gateway candle. Chet doesn't mind the candle (it barely caused a reaction other than a what-will-my-mother/sister-think-if-they-knew-a-candle-was-here comment....which I thought was just straight out funny - I fully intend to tell them so I can find out what they think) but I don't think he realized the kind of door that candle has opened. Angel figurines are just around the corner!

The holy grail of my nesting is actually a recliner. I have mentioned about a dozen times to Chet that he needs a recliner for me to put my stuff on. Oddly enough, this did not spur him into immediate action and get me a chair...(sigh)... Now, I don't only want the chair for use as a gathering place for my junk, but its main function would be to house all of my girly paraphernalia. A girl needs a good drop spot - and there just isn't a good one for me yet at the apartment. What there is however is a great empty space at the end of a room that holds......absolutely nothing. Every time I walk past this space I itch to do something to it - it is practically begging for a cozy recliner to sit in front of its windows, holding hands with a boxy end table piled with a stack of books and even, perhaps, a cozy knitted afghan. If I close my eyes I can see myself curled up in it, lost in a good book while Chet sleeps away the morning....ahhhh....

Thus the candle. The flood gates are open and poor Chet's man-palace won't even feel it coming. On the agenda this week...a cozy sweater, pajama pants, peanut M&M's on hand. Coming soon....Chick food in the cupboards. Pretty, flowery Kleenex boxes on the bathroom counter. Feel-good message magnets on the fridge. Bubble bath. Perhaps even decorative pillows and oversized pink bath towels. All are little stepping stones leading me to my coveted, comfy reading nook. Unless, of course, I get impatient and just skip right from candle to recliner. The phrase 'it is better to ask for forgiveness than for permission' has come out of Chet's mouth on occasion. I wonder if he believes in it if he is on the other end???