Can your relationship pass the IKEA test?

Tape measure in one hand, pram in the other and three light globes propped under my chin. I was covered in my baby’s once-digested breakfast. We had to make a decision and we had to make it fast.
“How do we get out of here?”
It’s a question many couples ask themselves as they’re traipsing through the Swedish furniture giant. And rightly so. Because it’s now been all but proven that relationships are well and truly tested within the mind-collapsing rooms of IKEA.
Dan Ariel, a professor of psychology and behavioural economics at Duke University, told The Atlantic if a person wants to know if their relationship is going to work out, they should take their partner on a canoe ride — “an experience packed with factors out of your control — weather, currents, sharks”.
The unknown. The experience “will offer telling insights about how people [your partner] react to pressure”.
The canoe ride isn’t unlike a trip to IKEA.
Beds. Couches. Hot dogs. Baby rooms. Toys. Christmas decorations.
Before one has even bought anything, this joint is a minefield of heavy conversation starters.
“This is a nice bed. When are we going to move in together?”
“You really don’t need another hot dog.”
“I love the (unavoidable) kid section. We should have a baby.”
“Ooh! Decorations! Where are we celebrating Christmas this year?’
But before long, the conversation grenades are petering out and you’re at the check-out. And you only need to have visited Ikea once to know that you’ll never leave with exactly what you go in for.
Buying a table? You’ll leave with a table, some white cardboard storage boxes, a pair of outdoor cushions and a black and white canvas of New York City.
Buying a set of drawers? You’ll leave with a set of drawers, plastic picnic cups, a hat stand and 5000 tea light candles.
But the agony of IKEA isn’t always felt within the actual store. The true test lies at home — between the three of you.
You.
Your partner.
And the flatpack.
Don Ferguson, author of Reptiles in Love: Ending Destructive Fights and Evolving Toward More Loving Relationshipstold The Atlantic, “Little things like putting a set of shelves together will bring up some ancient history with the partners … Do you trust me? Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I have no skills? Do you wish your old boyfriend was here doing this?”
And the answer is almost always …
Yes.
Because the grass is always greener at IKEA. You and your loved one have just taken a journey through home-heaven. It is everything your house is not. The IKEA showroom is designed to make you feel like you need more. Your house is inadequate. Your rooms could be packed more cleverly, styled more simply, renovated more cheaply and feel more homely. You’re not fun enough, not classy enough, not trendy enough, not innovative enough. “You could be so much more”, cheer the furniture as if it’s in that ‘Spoonful of Sugar’ scene from Mary Poppins. But you can’t be.
Why?
Because you and your (now, pathetic) partner can’t even put together a set of drawers on a Saturday afternoon.
The panic sets in. Missing screws, too many screws, a leftover panel, a nonsensical diagram, a tired head from shopping in a windowless department store, all make for acute stress.
“The higher brain shuts down. The primitive brain takes over. And there’s no organisation or reason there,” Ferguson said.
That’s why couples “start arguing about a set of shelves and by the end of the fight they’re talking about each other’s parents and themselves and their kids.”
That’s exactly what I was talking about when I left IKEA. Vomit. Our kids. I have little doubt it spiralled into a heated discussion about cooking/holidays/whose turn it was to fill up the car with petrol.
You see, I can’t remember. This was many years ago. I’ve travelled the DIY designer showrooms of IKEA with my husband once. Once only. We both left uninspired, tired, poorer and a little delirious.
Ultimately, only the mentally strong will succeed at IKEA. A shopper must be braced for all scenarios — bargains, throw-cushions, cheap kids cutlery, fake indoor plants, candles. Millions of candles. And, last but certainly not least — the unknown. The shopper must be prepared to tackle on variants like other pushy bargain-hunters, last-minute ‘out of stock’ stickers, no staff, self-check-out queues and in my case, baby vomit.
Because before you’ve even stepped foot inside this store, your relationship is flat-packed.