10/18/2012 09:50 am ET

The Breakup Bed

I stopped seeing someone recently and decided, as one does in these situations, that it was time to change my life, or at least my bed. This bed and the set it is a part of have been an embarrassment to me ever since I told my mother I would take them. Big and overwrought, they are the sort of thing that might work in the European mountain house of a histrionic soprano, but in a New York City apartment they are too much. I was pretty certain that if a guy got a look at my bedroom he would reassess my character and be gone, although a good male friend, with whom I discuss this, told me that is not the case.

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