Yesterday, the boyfriend crossed a line.
A big, fat, double yellow, gay line.
He violated a fundamental rule of common decency, good taste and basic homosexuality.
He bought fake plants!
And not little fake plants either, but big six foot fake palms!
I don't know what to say.
For years he's had a vision, and that vision included twin palms flanking our dining room table. In LA, we didn't have the space to pull it off. But that wasn't an issue when we first moved to Bako. No sooner had the movers left, than he ran out to Home Depot and picked up two lovely palm trees. What he didn't account for is the fact that our rental was a cave and didn't get even a single sliver of sunlight. Within weeks, the palms were dead.
So he got another pair.
And another.
After the third set died, he finally threw in the towel and for the last six months we lived there, the dining room table was flanked by empty pots.
But the new house would be different. The dining room faced south and got plenty of sun. Once again, before we'd even settled in, he was off to buy palms. The only problem this time is that, while the dining room gets sun, it doesn't get... quite enough. By yesterday morning they were in their final brown, brittle death throes.
But here's the thing... he had invited a co-worker and her husband over for dinner last night. This was to be our very first dinner party here in Bako and everything had to be perfect. And that didn't include dead palms. So first thing yesterday morning, he flew out of the house, ricochetting back and forth to every home improvement store and nursery he could find. And he came home in a panic. Due to a combination of the season and Bakersfield, where almost everything seems to be perpetually "out of stock", he couldn't find a single live palm.
And remember, he has a vision.
The next thing I know, he's gone to Michael's and picked out two fake, "silk" palms. I know it was done in desperation, but...
Now, I have to say, in his defense, they look pretty real. Fake plant technology has come a long way and you have to look pretty close to tell they're phony. They've even thrown in a couple of yellowing leaves so the tree doesn't look TOO perfect.
The Chinese, they think of everything.
I guess as long as you keep your guests liquored up, no one would notice. That was our plan.
But still, I'm mortified. Fake plants are like the gateway drug to bad, white trash interior design. It starts with a fake palm, and then the next thing you know you have La-Z-Boys and you're decorating the walls with commemorative plates from the Franklin Mint. Or Hummels. I don't think that's the case here. I think it's just a case of making do with the limited resources here in Dogpatch. All the same, it was a frightening turn of events.
The dinner party ended up being a fabulous good time.
All in all, it was a complete success. The boyfriend outdid himself with the dinner, as he always does. The couple was extremely nice and fun. A good time was had by all. I must admit I'm happy we're finally starting to make some friends here. And the one difference I've noticed is the people here seem very genuine. Quite a change from the crowd we hung out with back in LA, who all seemd so fake.
Like the palms.
