Looking in the (Couch) Crack

Dear Couch,

         I can't stop thinking about last night. About how it felt the first time I saw you across the room. Jay-Z was playing (thanks, Beyoncé) and through the crowd of drunk idiots, there was you. Everyone else was stumbling over themselves, but you just stood patiently in the corner of the room, bathed in the golden light of the floor lamp beside you. Your tan fabric was perfect. Spotless, even though there were mysterious spills all around you. It’s like I knew from the first look that you were the angel to my roaring demons. That’s why I couldn't just stand back and watch when I saw that drunk guy stumbling and retching near you. What if he dared to vomit on your perfectly stuffed cushions? I crossed the room to push him back, and before I even realized it, I took a step. Once he was finally away from you, I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. I'm sorry if I startled you—I saw your throw pillows sag when you saw my rage.

Love,

JD

Dear JD, 

I can’t stop thinking about last night. How it felt, finally being in your line of sight. I can’t really hear, but I could feel your heartbeat across the room. I could sense the parted directions in your hair by feeling the air beside you. Your suit was perfect. Gray hair in the beard like a desirable father. I could feel my cushions tensing as you strolled in. I was scared of that drunk guy dirtying my fabric skin, but you, in your glory, took it upon yourself to keep me clean. I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. You didn’t startle me, you put me at ease. My pillows were straight up when you left. I yearn for your warmth, your touch. I yearn for you to be with my cushions. I yearn for all of your rage, whether I love or hate it.

Love, 

Couch

Dear Couch,

          Why are you giving me the cold shoulder? When I sat down this morning, I felt the sting of cold rejection over your warm embrace. Tell me whatever it is you want from me and it's yours. I can get you a throw blanket made from the finest wool, but you already have the most important gift of all: my heart. Human girls may approach me, but they will never be you. Why would I want their flimsy arms when your tan, strong arms exist to provide me comfort? Why would I want their weak two legs when you have four strong, thick, perfectly balanced legs of oak? I may have sat on a Herman-Miller office chair last night, but I promise that chair means nothing to me. It was my attractive hormones that had that chair rolling towards me, not me seeking the chair. I'm building a political career. I can't afford to be rude. I assure you, no matter how many chairs I sit on, I know where home is: you. 

Love, 

JD

Dear JD,

My shoulder is nothing but hot for you, baby boy. I feel your bottom imprints leaving my cushions every day. I yearn for you every day. Throw me any blanket you want and I’ll wrap you in it so you can stay on me forever. Your perfectly shaped body, hairline, flat feet. I want all six feet and two inches of you. No buttocks are good for me except yours. Come here. Leave your wife. Leave your kids. Leave your boss. I want you. We need each other. 

Love, 

Couch

Dear Couch,

I'm sorry I couldn't be what you needed. In another world, I would stay with you until your fabric pilled and our unborn child grew to a sectional, but we both know that's not possible where we are. No one would understand our love and the raw, explosive, fiery, animalistic, forbidden, taboo passion that pushes us together. You know better than any couch that I will never forget your strong caress, our forbidden trysts, or stolen moments at networking events. But that's where you will live: in my memories. I need to be focused on a cabinet, not a couch. I need to embrace the spotlight, not your hearty cushions. The only seat I'm concerned about now is the vice presidential one. I can't let my white picket fence family fall apart at the seams, just for your beautiful hand-stitched seams. I've left my last imprint on you, but our family will be imprinted onto my heart forever (in secret).

Best wishes,

JD