Crap My Boyfriend Brings Home

My boyfriend, BK, loves to shop at thrift stores. I fully support this approach and if he were just going when he needed some new clothes or kitchenware, it would be no big deal. But this is something entirely different.

BK hits up two to three thrift stores a week. I’ve studied this creature in his natural habitat for many moons, trying figure out why the trips are so frequent and here’s my conclusion: part of it is practical (he’s incredibly generous and always buying people things they might need, and he also makes a decent profit reselling things on eBay) and the other part is a clever disguise for a mild case of OCD.

He fancies himself a free spirit who could at any moment load up a suburban and wander off to the mountains, but in reality he’s a pack rat who’d probably have an aneurism if he had to give up one of his 23 pairs of pants. 

Being a minimalist and slightly delusional myself, I have a fear that if I let his thrift storing get out of control, next thing I know it will be 10 years later and the film crew from Hoarders will come knocking on the door. I can see myself, overweight and dressed in a muumuu, wading through waist-high piles of newspapers, cracked Tupperware and a few mouse carcasses, to let them in.  

I can admit that there’s tiny chance I may be over dramatizing the situation. I can also admit that I love that he constantly brings me gifts, even if they are driven by a mental disease. I always appreciate the thoughtfulness, if not the actual gift itself.  Here’s what I mean…

Thoughtfulness + OCD = Presents Like These:

Dragon Ring With a Pearl Clutched In Its Fanged Jaws. BK knows that I am partial to Asian designs, so he naturally concludes that I must love anything that involves pandas, cranes or dragons.  This lovely ring is quite small for my man hands, so it needs to be sported in all its glory on my pinky finger. (This picture is not my hand.)

Mom Jeans. I’ve repeatedly tried to explain to him that women’s styles, especially for jeans, change much faster than men’s. My fashion insight falls on deaf ears and every few weeks he brings me a pair of high-waisted, tapered-ankle jeans. I can tell upon first sight that they’re Mom jeans, but every single time he insists I try them on to prove it. It’s not a flattering style for me.

Eclipse T-shirt. BK hates the “statement” t-shirts that are so popular (you know, the ones that say things like “Bite Me,” or “I’m the Hot Friend,” or “Real Men Eat Meat”). But he is a huge fan of literal humor and couldn’t pass up this gem. What you have here is the moon sucker punching the sun, underneath the word “Eclipse.” Lucky me, it is a women’s medium.

Rollerblades. No, not roller skates. Rollerblades. Aqua and purple rollerblades. BK is a big fan of rollerblading as a form of transportation and often could be seen zipping around UCSD during his tenure there. Thankfully, he keeps his ‘blading to a minimum these days, but does think that we should have matching pairs on the off chance I decide to embrace the sport.  

Goonies “Talking Chunk” Keychain. I do love Goonies (who doesn’t?) and Chunk is my favorite character. BK knows this and has added a Truffle Shuffle t-shirt to my collection as well as a keychain that has buttons you can push to hear Chunk’s best quotes, including “It was the most amazing thing I ever saw!” and “I’ve taken all I can stand, and I can’t stand no more!” and “I smell ice cream.” The other function is that this keychain is big enough to brick a mugger.

Need something? Let BK know. He can obviously dig up pretty much anything at his thrift stores.