Browsing for a sofa causes three distinct reactions in me.  Only one of them is particularly pleasurable.

The first reaction comes from shopping in IKEA.  At first you’re happy, because everything is so cheap.  You bounce up and down on everything and look at the price and feel giddy.  But then you realize the sofas are kind of flimsy.  They’re easy.  They’re...well, let’s not split hairs.  They’re a bunch of wanton little tarts.  Cheap little things that catch your eye but basically can’t hold up to hard use.  And you feel pretty irritated about this, because IKEA has a play area where children can entertain themselves while parents shop.  What kind of company would have such immoral furniture when children are present?  Figures it’s a Swedish company.  Pervs.

Then there’s the more upscale venues like Ethan Allen.  Oh, how the sofas flatter your back and your buttocks.  And oh, how they’ll blowtorch your wallet.  You wonder: is there any way to flatter the back and the buttocks without all those zeroes?

The most pleasurable reaction, though, comes when you see a couch with bright red stripes and frilly pillows and big, gaudy armrests covered with brass tacks.  But it’s not just the look; it’s also the $4,000 price tag.  And you realize you can’t afford it, but more importantly you have absolutely no interest in it.  This is the pleasurable sensation: it’s unaffordable but you don’t desire it.  And you stand there for a good ten minutes, grinning at it and gloating.  The salesperson floats over to you: “May I answer any questions?” And you reply, “Yes, I’m just curious as to whether Raggedy Ann designed this sofa before or after kicking her crack habit.”