I love our new couch. I didn’t hate our previous one. But this new one, “Mmmmmmmmmm, it’s after my heart.”
Funny how we love objects/people in different ways. Many would argue with me that you can’t “love” a couch, because it doesn’t have the emotions to love you back. True. But that doesn’t eliminate your feelings toward it.
How many times in your life have you extended love to someone only to have it rebuffed? Were those people loving you? No. So a couch not loving you back can fit into that category.
Love encompasses that dispassion or non-caring attitude. Every love relationship has conflicting emotions at times as we go through stages. With a couch, you know you’re not getting anything back in terms of an emotional commitment. It will continue to do its job, regardless.
That’s one of the reasons I love ours so much. It’s consistent. It pleases me. I can count on it. It relaxes me, and allows me to settle in physically. Those are phenomenal qualities for an inanimate object.
Our couch stands out because it goes the extra mile. We bought this one so that the two end sections have the lever to raise and lower your legs, so you get a full extension while watching TV. You sink back, get it adjusted just right, then soon it’s nap time.
Previously, you had to lie on our old couch (which clearly didn’t love me with the same degree of intensity) and turn your head to watch a ballgame or movie. There is nothing wrong with this, but it did mean you weren’t fully comfortable because you had to bend your neck to watch the screen. Oh, the inconvenience, the lack of love for my comfort zone! Sometimes my neck would even get stiff and I’d have to roll over, put a pillow on my head and fall asleep facing the back of the couch while listening to the announcer drone on mindlessly.
The new couch met this need for frontal engagement. Somehow it knew that I wanted to kick back while fully facing the TV, stretch out, flip the shoes on the floor and adjust the tilt level perfectly. It read my mind.
Still, you can’t get everything from a couch. This new one doesn’t get up and bring me a beer or some chips and salsa. It doesn’t empty the garbage for me, clean the bathrooms or mow the grass.
You’ll never find a couch that gives you a hug (though sinking into soft cushions sure feels good, too), listens to your complaint and offers you words of solace or gives you that kiss of encouragement. It doesn’t come in first place. My wife, kids, extended family and friends rank ahead of the comfy couch, but it’s still worth a deep and abiding love from me to it.
Companies need to figure out how to market the loving couch. Most furniture companies already employ tactics that show our human expressions stroking the leather or fondling the cushions that show how much we really care. They could take it further though.
Add testimonials where humans discuss deep feelings for their perfect couch. “I LOVE my couch.” “It’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.” “I can’t spend enough time with our couch.” “If our couch ever left us, I’d go into a deep depression.” “I’m not going anywhere without our couch.”
Sounds an awful lot like love, doesn’t it?
Funny how we love objects/people in different ways. Many would argue with me that you can’t “love” a couch, because it doesn’t have the emotions to love you back. True. But that doesn’t eliminate your feelings toward it.
How many times in your life have you extended love to someone only to have it rebuffed? Were those people loving you? No. So a couch not loving you back can fit into that category.
Love encompasses that dispassion or non-caring attitude. Every love relationship has conflicting emotions at times as we go through stages. With a couch, you know you’re not getting anything back in terms of an emotional commitment. It will continue to do its job, regardless.
That’s one of the reasons I love ours so much. It’s consistent. It pleases me. I can count on it. It relaxes me, and allows me to settle in physically. Those are phenomenal qualities for an inanimate object.
Our couch stands out because it goes the extra mile. We bought this one so that the two end sections have the lever to raise and lower your legs, so you get a full extension while watching TV. You sink back, get it adjusted just right, then soon it’s nap time.
Previously, you had to lie on our old couch (which clearly didn’t love me with the same degree of intensity) and turn your head to watch a ballgame or movie. There is nothing wrong with this, but it did mean you weren’t fully comfortable because you had to bend your neck to watch the screen. Oh, the inconvenience, the lack of love for my comfort zone! Sometimes my neck would even get stiff and I’d have to roll over, put a pillow on my head and fall asleep facing the back of the couch while listening to the announcer drone on mindlessly.
The new couch met this need for frontal engagement. Somehow it knew that I wanted to kick back while fully facing the TV, stretch out, flip the shoes on the floor and adjust the tilt level perfectly. It read my mind.
Still, you can’t get everything from a couch. This new one doesn’t get up and bring me a beer or some chips and salsa. It doesn’t empty the garbage for me, clean the bathrooms or mow the grass.
You’ll never find a couch that gives you a hug (though sinking into soft cushions sure feels good, too), listens to your complaint and offers you words of solace or gives you that kiss of encouragement. It doesn’t come in first place. My wife, kids, extended family and friends rank ahead of the comfy couch, but it’s still worth a deep and abiding love from me to it.
Companies need to figure out how to market the loving couch. Most furniture companies already employ tactics that show our human expressions stroking the leather or fondling the cushions that show how much we really care. They could take it further though.
Add testimonials where humans discuss deep feelings for their perfect couch. “I LOVE my couch.” “It’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.” “I can’t spend enough time with our couch.” “If our couch ever left us, I’d go into a deep depression.” “I’m not going anywhere without our couch.”
Sounds an awful lot like love, doesn’t it?