Shine A Light On The Obviously-Single Girl

I have been lusting after this brushed nickel wall-mounted light for about eight months. It's designed to be mounted over one's bed, and it has two separate halogen reading lights, housed in simple nickel heads, on adjustable swingarms. Sooo sexy.

I finally broke down and bought it. I went in to the lighting store yesterday after work, and made sure to look around to verify that there was not a better light to be had. I happened upon a similarly styled light, although it was a single not a double. The head was partially transparent, and it was a bit more industrial-looking. It, too, was hot - and a little less expensive.

I thought on it for a bit because, really, do I need two lights? I am, after all, single, and rarely do I ever have someone in bed next to me, let alone reading next to me. And, as I always sleep on the same side of the bed, I imagined one light would be sufficient. Nevertheless, I liked the styling of the double better - it was slightly sexier - and it was only twenty dollars more. Either one would be a splurge, so what's twenty bucks? And, I know I'll want to keep it for a good length of time...

This is how I justified it to myself, you see.

So, having decided between the two, but before I hand over the card, I approach a service clerk to ask an important question. I say, "I'm interested in that wall-mount over there (I point). I noticed that there is a small hole on the underside of the unit. Does that mean that it can be used as a plug in or does it have to be hard-wired?" She tells me that, yes, it can be plugged in, and I am relieved because I don't want to deal with the hassle of the alternative. I tell her I'd like to buy it.

She looked at me - rather intensely - for a few moments, and then stated, "We also have a single if you want me to show you that."

O-U-C-H.

I cannot think of any other reason that she would suggest selling me a lesser expensive unit after I had already consented to the double, unless of course she assumed I'm a singleton and couldn't possibly have use for two lights. Maybe she thought I should spend that extra twenty on some fuck-me-red lipstick.

Ok, so maybe it's some wishful thinking on my part to think that I might someday have use for both! Or, maybe, I just happen to have some quirk regarding symmetry and balance, and therefore could not sleep at night if I had to look up and see a light dangling over one side of my bed with nothing to balance it on the other! Maaaybe, it's both. SHE doesn't know. I certainly do, but having some stranger I've known for all of thirty seconds point it out to me is not the most refreshing thing to happen to me in recent memory.

Seriously.

I take my merchandise, drive home while trying to think happy thoughts, settle down, and promptly grab my box cutter. Just as I am leaning down to cut, I take notice of the label on the end cap of the box. Next to model name it says: "Save Your Marriage."

You've got to be kidding me.

I thought for a second about using the box cutter on my pale little wrists, instead of the fucking box. But, then I realized the blade would not be sufficient enough to have the desired effect; I'd still be left to deal with "this" AND have scars on my wrists for all to see. Then I REALLY wouldn't ever have use for both lights. Call me crazy, but I don't think they'd exactly scream "level-headed-and-emotionally-stable-woman." I mean, jeez, it's hard enough to get men to think that about you without having signs of attempted suicide scrawled on your extremities.