Matt and I experienced one disappointment after another this weekend. Time and again, we planned to do something, only to see our plans thwarted by the evil gods of fate.

On Saturday we went to IKEA so Matt could buy a couch. We had planned on the Klippan, because it looked good on the website and it was in the right price range. But when we sat on it in the store, it wasn’t very comfortable. There was a comfier couch that wasn’t too much more expensive, but it came in only drugstore green and Matt’s walls are orange. The combination would have induced illness. And anyway, while we were looking at it, an employee came over and stuck a sticker on the price tag that said, “Temporarily Oversold.” So that was out. And all the other couches were too expensive. We wound up schlepping all the way out to IKEA and left with only a bunch of wooden clothes hangers and some wine glasses.

The trip wasn’t a complete wash, though. IKEA is enjoyable even if you don’t buy anything. I love walking through the store and imagining myself living in all the showcase rooms. I look forward to lunch — Swedish meatballs with ligonberry sauce, followed by dessert. Most of all, I love people-watching at IKEA. I love identifying the gay couples and watching them interact with each other as they shop. There’s a particular route you have to follow as you walk through the store, so you keep encountering the same people over and over again until they become familiar to you. There’s something so heartwarming about the pairs of men walking around the store.

Anyway — the next disappointment occurred on Saturday night. We didn’t have any plans and didn’t really know what to do, so we called a couple of people who both wound up being busy. We thought about seeing a movie at the nearby Regal Cinema at Battery Park, but when we got there, there was nothing worth seeing. So we decided to have dinner at the Appleby’s next to the theater, which wound up being a mistake. Sitting right behind us was a group of adults and children celebrating a child’s birthday party. Everyone else in the restaurant seemed very un-chic, and other than the children, the atmosphere was lifeless. I felt like I was in New Jersey. On top of that, the food took at least half an hour to arrive, and it wound up being unexceptional and overpriced. I don’t know what we were thinking by eating there.

Afterwards, we wound up going home to watch “Saturday Night Live,” but Matt fell asleep before 11:30, so I watched it with his head in my lap. He slept so soundly that my hysterical laughs at Fred Armisen dressed as an African parrot didn’t even wake him.

Yesterday was yet another disappointment. We decided to go to Canstruction, an exhibit of giant sculptures made out of food cans that we’d read about in the Times. We decided to make an afternoon out of it. First we went up to Grand Central Station, where we had lunch at Junior’s. Then we tried to visit the Grand Central branch of the NYC Transit Museum, but it was closed because a new exhibit was being installed. So we walked down to the New York Design Center to see Canstruction, stopping at a market along the way to buy a couple of canned goods (that’s the price of admission — it’s a charity event; we bought a can of creamed corn and a can of soup).

When we got to the New York Design Center, it was closed. We stood there with our cans of food and looked for an alternate entrance, but there wasn’t one. We soon saw a couple of other disappointed people, also with canned goods.

Turns out it’s only open Monday through Saturday.

Matt and I went back to his place, cans in tow (we’ll try again to visit sometime, because neither of us is going to be eating creamed corn). I wound up watching the first hour and a half of “Broadway: The American Musical” on Matt’s TiVo while he tooled around on his computer. Half an hour after I sat down, it got dark outside.

So it was a disappointing weekend in many ways. But it could have been worse. Before I met Matt, I spent many depressing weekends alone. On a typical Saturday night, I’d choose between schlepping across the Hudson to go to a gay bar alone in Manhattan, and sitting at home alone, watching TV or a movie or trying to meet new people in chat rooms.

There’s something to be said for a boring Saturday night in front of the TV while your boyfriend sleeps in your lap.