I haven’t owned a couch for a year. 

I just haven’t. I have all the other stuff that makes my lounge my lounge. A TV. A bookshelf. A couple of guitars. A rug and an orchid which is somehow still perky a good 18 months since I bought it.

But no couch. 

Why? Well, I suppose on one level I pride myself on living a minimalist life. A life of sparse possessions. I don’t spend much on clothes. I don’t spend much on cars or electronics or anything really outside of food and travel. And when I had to get rid of my old couch I just decided not to replace it. 

It’s not like I don’t have anything to sit on. I’m not running a Japanese tea ceremony situation where all visitors are expected to quietly cross their legs and sit on a mat for hours on end. I have two arm chairs which spin and recline, and a little extended ottoman thing that’s hollow inside and opens up if I need to store some linen. I even have a $20 side table I bought at Target for storing the TV remote. Just no couch.

It’s not THAT weird, is it? It’s not that weird. A grown man without a couch? Not a big deal. I dunno anymore. To be honest, I feel as though my judgement’s been shaken. I mentioned to my producer Emily a few months back that I didn’t have a couch and she freaked out, and immediately started sending me links to websites for modern Scandinavian furniture.

Stop it! I said. It’s not that strange! I’m going for a minimalist aesthetic, I barely ever have more than two or three people visiting at once, and if I really need another seating option, I can always bring across a chair from my dining table.

Jack, she said. Trust me. You need a couch.

I had friends over a couple of times. We hung out, had some beers, played guitar. I brought a dining chair over and plonked it next to my side table. 

“Why don’t you have a couch?’ said my friend Katherine. She sat on the floor and crossed her legs like at a Japanese tea ceremony.

I must admit, it has crossed my mind that if I ever get a girlfriend it could be a bit dispiriting trying to shout across the lounge room from a revolving arm chairs. Lean back! I’ll say. Spin!

Jack! She’ll shout across the abyss. 

WHY DON’T YOU HAVE A COUCH?

I think I’ve found a discovered a parameter of maturity. You can vote at 18, gamble at 20 but after that it’s an inexact science as to when you give up your years of partying and raging for the stability of middle aged.

Maybe middle age begins when you first get excited perusing the sale items in a home ware store.

Jack! I told myself. Kia Kaha! Don’t give in to the ridiculous shelves of scented candles and linen throws. Stick with your minimalist aesthetic. You have eight dinner plates already! You don’t need four more.

It was blue. It was sufficiently comfortable. They only had the three seater on display and a couple of colour options but I sat and bounced on the cushions. Would this go with my arm chairs?

Would this suit my side tables?

Bugger it.  

I bought a couch.