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A MAN AND HIS SOFA
WILL NEVER PART
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There is a difference between men and women. If there was any
doubt, it was proven on the sales floor of a huge furniture warehouse a
couple of weeks ago.
My wife and I were looking for a sofa for our family room. Not
the living room, where my wife's fru-fru taste might make some sense. I'm
talking family room, where comfort is, or should be, king.
We were wandering through a sea of couches and chairs. She
wasn't finding anything that met her snooty standards, and I wasn't paying
much attention. Finally, she stopped at a white sofa that I would easily
ruin with beer, wine and food stains in weeks, if not days.
"How do you like this one?" she asked, even though
she knew the answer.
"Well, let's see," I replied as I plopped down on the
most uncomfortable sofa ever built. "It would be a lovely choice for a
Tibetan monk."
We moved on. We needed to find something where we could
compromise her need for style and my need for comfort. It wasn't going to be
easy. She stopped at a few more Queen Victoria/Ben Franklin torture couches,
which I quickly nixed, and I didn't even bother gravitating toward the more
comfortable couches, because I knew I had virtually no chance.
Then we stumbled on nirvana, at least for me. There it was,
sitting by itself, on sale, with no one around it. A faux leather, plush,
cushy sofa set, with a big sign saying "I RECLINE."
"Don't even think about it," said my wife, but it was
too late. I plopped onto the sofa and sank deep into its bosom. As my wife
tried to pull me up, I glanced to my left, and there was the most beautiful
sight a man has ever seen, built right into the armrest.
"IT'S GOT DRINK HOLDERS!" I cried.
"Come on, let's go," she pleaded. "We'll find
something that's a little more comfortable than the ones I looked at so
far."
I wasn't listening. I reclined the couch and practiced reaching
for my imaginary beer as I watched my imaginary sporting event. I wasn't
going anywhere. Especially when I realized the arm rest lifted up and there
was STORAGE underneath.
"I can put food in here!" I exulted. "And the
remote. This is the best couch I've ever seen. Can I have it? Please,
please, please!"
I realized I was beginning to sound like I was 5 years old
begging my mother to buy me a new toy. I thought about it for a second, and
decided to continue. It worked then---no reason it shouldn't work now.
"Come on, PLEEEEEZE," I pleaded. "You can get
anything you want for any other room---I don't care. I won't ask for
anything else. I promise. Just give me this reclining, drink holding, full
storage couch. PLEEEEZE."
I managed to get her to sit next to me, with the dual drink
holders right between us. She wasn't impressed. Or maybe because her section
of the couch didn't recline. I offered her my seat, but she had no interest
in moving. She just sat there, her head in her hands. I don't think she
looked very relaxed.
It's hard to deny the one you love something they want more
than anything in the world. I think she was making that realization. That's
why her head was in her hands.
I didn't even have to throw a tantrum. "Fine," she
finally said. "I give up. Buy it."
"WAHOO!" I cried. "Think of the fun we'll have
watching movies together, a glass of wine sitting in our drink holders,
peanuts in our storage compartment, me reclining…."
She was pretty silent as we walked up and paid for it and
arranged delivery. But she perked up when we stopped for gas on the way home
and she went into the gas station store to use the restroom, which had a
small seating area / cafe attached.
When she came back to the car, she smiled for the first time
since our illustrious purchase. "Guess what I saw outside the
bathroom?" she asked, not waiting for an answer. "Your couch.
Complete with drink holders."
I think she was making a point, but I didn't care. All that
mattered to me was that we had a new name for my beautiful couch.
It will forever be known as "The Arco Lounger."
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