I’m not metro

I used to kid people that I was a metrosexual, until I read the definition at Urbandictionary.com. Let me say this emphatically, I am not metro. I, uh, just have this ‘thing’…

Can I help it if I, uh, have an innate ability to know that a certain color of paint will clash with my brushed nickel faucets. Or, um, that a certain color will not work with a chocolate-brown fabric headboard. Is it my fault that I can rearrange the furniture in my office and come up with a reading area…that would be perfect with a leather club chair, ottoman, and swing-arm lamp? Hell, can’t everybody look at track lighting and know that the lamps should have an amber shade instead of blue? I mean, come on people, it’s not rocket science.

You know what? It’s a gift and who am I to hide those gifts under a bushel? I would be mocking the gods if I didn’t use it. And we all know that I am not a mocker…or a metro.

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One comment on “I’m not metro

  1. liv says:

    My ex-boyfriend, a total metro, wasn’t even that metro.

    😉

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