I sacrificed more than a couch for this one

My 12 loyal readers are way too familiar with this story, but I told it to my boss this morning, and his response was "when are they going to turn your life into a sitcom?"  So, I figured that if there is someone out there reading this that hasn't heard this one yet, you will probably enjoy it!

My ex (who is, of course, now married to the next girl he dated after me) was sort of like dating a giant gorilla.  He got angry when I told him it was like dating a monkey, because he preferred to be a gorilla (they're apes!  they're not just monkeys!  much more highly evolved).  It took a full 30 second pause to get him to answer a question during a phone call (kill me, I'm a New Yorker, who has time for this?!) and sometimes he got this look on his face where he would sort of furrow his brow, stare into space and scratch his head with one finger (yeah, just like this).  He also had a habit of eating ice cream when he got completely drunk.  Now, personally, late night drunk food for me generally has to involve salty stuff - pizza, grilled cheese, Chinese food, chips, etc - I've never understood the desire for an ENTIRE pint of ice cream on top of a stomach full of 13 beers at 4 am.  But hey, I'm just a monkey here.

Anyway, my ex went through a phase where he was coming back to my apartment late at night after going out drinking, and he would stop at the 24-hr bodega across the street for "provisions."  (I secretly blame this store for the downfall of my relationship).  He would then let himself in at 2 or 3 in the morning, sit down on my couch, turn on the TV and proceed to work his way through an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's.  And then fall asleep.  Yes, you know where this is going.  He would wake up at 5 in the morning, confused, still drunk, and covered in melted ice cream.  Did I mention that my couch is white?  And that he apparently preferred chocolate-based ice cream flavors?  Yes, couch fail.  So, this happened once, and while I was completely pissed off at him, he was properly apologetic, we flipped the couch cushion, and all was well.  

Until it happened again, about 2 weeks later.  And apparently he only liked to sit on one particular cushion.  So, long story short, both sides are ruined beyond flip-over-ability.  I guess it is better than the nights he would stop at the chicken & rice carts on his way home after being out drinking, and the next day I would find a shot glass, "accidentally" taken from the last bar, filled with rice in the middle of my living room.  Truly, I only date winners.