Guys, don't let this be you.
So there's this friend of mine; let's call him Josh. He goes on this date, and it goes really well because he did a little bit of Facebook reconnaissance in advance to find out that the girl really digs sushi, gelato, and Wes Anderson movies.
Then he takes her back to his apartment for a "cup of tea" (oh, yeah right!) and then she notices that he's a little bit eccentric. You know, he's got a Star Trek blaster for his TV remote control, or maybe he's turned his bed into a shrine to Steve Jobs. She kind of looks a little freaked out.
Time for damage control. Namely, Josh needs something to save face and prove that he can still be a suave ladies' man even though he has a Space Invaders doormat. So he whips out the latest innovation in gadgety pimpdom: under-bed lighting. He turns it on, and a soft blue glow emanates from underneath the bed frame that he bought at Ikea back in college. The girl in question stops short in her tracks and her eyes grow wide.
And he thinks, Sweet! Best $36 I ever spent!
The girl, unfortunately, isn't mystified--she's traumatized. Hastily, she makes up an excuse to split, whips out her cell phone as soon as she's successfully hailed a cab, calls up one of her friends, and starts to vent--"He's a Trekkie AND a sleaze!" For Josh, it's back to square one. He's determined to keep going, convinced that there must be some women out there who appreciate a nice set of under-bed lighting fueled by extra-bright LEDs that last for a decade.
Guys, I repeat: Don't let this be you.