The dilemma

Last week Sunshine walked into my room, a strange look on her face.
"I have a big problem. Can you come with me?"
I went into Mom mode immediately. Ok, she's sick. Some guy did her wrong. She quit her job.
"Sure. Ok."
I follow her the four steps from my room to hers. We pause in the doorway.Her room is awash in green. The comforter is green with white polka dots. There are green seahorse hooks on her shelves. A green blanket. Green clothes. St. Patricks day threw up in her room, and it works. It's cluttered, chaotic and perfect. Sunshine is my hippie. She's chunky necklaces and paint splattered hands. Sweatpants with retro t's. I love it.
"See, I have this problem."
Ok here it comes, I think.
"Well, everytime I sleep with a guy, and I know that I'm not going to sleep with him again, I have to rearrange my furniture."
Immediately I see the problem.
The way her room is layed out, there's only one way her furniture can be arranged.
Damn.
"I guess that means the next guy you sleep with, you're going to have to marry."
"Well, that or I'll have to move again."