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In 2005, I celebrated the 10 year anniversary of my relationship with my favorite armchair. That chair and I had an amazing relationship.
Back in 1995, I was dating an over-caffeinated stylish fellow who had the nicest furniture I’d ever seen. At my then-house (Tha Muthaship), our couch was a dilapidated hand-me-down that came from my high school boyfriend’s older brother’s college house. It was shredded from several cats, saturated with years’ worth of collegiate beer and bongwater, and hidden under a patchwork of Indian bed spreads and blankets.
The then-boyfriend’s furniture, however, was all his. Granted, it was a little faded across the tops, but he had a three-piece living room set (…a set! Something I still don’t own!) which included a deep couch, a deep armchair, and a matching ottoman. From my 20-year-old perspective, this was the height of classy.
One night, early-on in our ill-fated three month relationship, the then-boyfriend and I went out on a fancy date. I went for my version of sexy, which include a retro-feel cocktail dress and thigh-high stockings and a garter belt. When I was young, thigh-high stockings with a garter belt were my oh-so-subtle ways of announcing what I wanted. It was clumsy, but there’s no arguing with the results. We had a nice enough date, which ended with me still mostly dressed in the arm chair and my then-boyfriend, uh, kneeling in front of it.
That was when I first fell in love with the chair.
Things didn’t work out for the then-boyfriend and me. We hit that three-month compromise-or-die point, and I wasn’t into compromising. We still had a class together though, so we stayed in touch. I moved on quickly, going to a lot of raves and generally enjoying my single self.
But I missed the chair. There were a couple occasions when, after a night of chemically-enhanced all-night dancing, I would call my ex-boyfriend to see if I could come over and nap in the chair. You see, it was made for me. The width between the chair’s low arms is exactly the length of my spine. I could rest my head on one arm rest, using it as a pillow, and my butt perfectly tucked lengthwise against the other arm. With the ottoman, the chair was a napping destination.
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Probably tired of both his faded furniture and his faded, cracked-out ex-girlfriend, my ex decided to upgrade to a new leather furniture set, and offered me his cast-offs.
That was when the chair moved in with me. No more nap outsourcing. The chair was my beloved roommate and we slept together often. It followed me from Seattle to San Francisco, where it proved able to accommodate three insomniac ravers simultaneously. It followed me back up to Seattle, then down to Olympia. It didn’t come to New York with me, but it did make the trek down to Los Angeles with me in 2002.
On the night of my 10 year anniversary with the chair, I sat down for three hours and finished a book. I sat in it cross legged, then sideways, then with my head on an armrest and my legs resting up the wall. The chair is always accommodating. The chair has seen me through four cities, many books, that one dirty encounter, and lots of snuggling. It’s welcomed the butts of hundreds of friends over the years. The chair was my constant.
The cunnilingus chair went its way in 2007 when we downsized into a smaller home, getting passed on to a friend’s teenaged daughter who laughed her ass off at the backstory. It’s been replaced with a fancy pink rocking armchair that cost more than I’d like to discuss, even at half off.
I miss the chair.
Hilarious! Makes me long for a new chair in my life….
I have a chair like this, although it’s a much more innocent version from my childhood. It’s red and fuzzy.
I just recently found my chair! Its pretty much perfect. I want one I can lay in like that though! Now I am on the hunt!
I absolutely LOVE this post! Thank you for sharing such a personal snapshot of your life with us! I am an avid reader and napper, and once I had a chair/ottoman set in the home I was staying in and it was my bed for the entire 6 months we lived there (it was either the chottoman or the childs-sized-much-too-small-for-my-5’10-16-year-old-body bunkbed in the bedroom). I never really realized what a wonderful thing I had in that chair until reading your post which reminded me of my love of oversized armchairs and ottomans. I have a new mission for furniture now. Thanks for the inspiration.
A good reading chair is the Mt.Olympus of furniture and you tell the story of your chair so well. 😀
I just parted with my version of your chair. It was my old faithful blue couch. That couch has been passed from house to house, traveled all over the place. Out of lumps, lifeless, and slept SO GOOD. We finally purchased our first ever living room set (couch and loveseat at least) and let the blue couch continue on its journey to another house.
I had a chair very much like this in my single days. actually, we still have it. It’s on its third slipcover and exiled to the “man cave” in the garage, but it still makes for a FANTASTIC sex chair when we’re a little chemically fueled and feeling adventurous.
Ariel
Where did you get the torso next to the chair?? I love it!
you are my hero! i need to find a chair. soon.
This story makes me feel a little bad for forcing the Mister to get rid of his hideous mint green pleather lazy-boy chair that had pen marks and holes dug into it and absolutely no butt support whatsoever – you either sat on a cross beam or empty space. I don’t know the story behind it, I just know it was the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen, and it was really bad sitting next to my brand new, sage green microsuede couch, which is far more sexy than any other thing I’ve ever known!
Having followed a sex tag, I read this and laughed my ass off. There is a lot to be said for wipe clean leather!
That chair does look super comfy! This post makes me miss my old futon that I had in college. First “I love you” said on it, first time holding hands, and everyone I had ever kissed, I kissed at some point on the futon. Lots of other fun adventures too. I will always cherish my futon memories.
I have chair like this. I mean, it looks nothing like your chair, Ariel. But it was the first piece of furniture I’d ever bought. In fact, it remains the ONLY piece of furniture I’ve ever bought. I found it for $20 at the St. Vincent DePaul’s in my hometown. It’s shaped like a hollowed egg, cut in half and it stands on a four-legged wooden tripod which is attached to a set of ball bearings. Which means it swivels in a complete 360. It has the most ridiculously 60s brocade upholstery and some of its stuffing is coming out. It’s so old, it’s actually upholstered using jute webbing. I still have my chair and refuse to part with it. Ever. I might write a post about it someday.
Please do! And submit it to us. 🙂