Every communal couch is shrouded in history among other things… like pillows! The couch has been here long before you and it will be here long after you are gone. Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, but not for the couch. Couches live many lives whether they be sold on Facebook Marketplace or inhabit a communal space seeing people come and go through the years. The inherited history thrust upon the couch inspires an innate sense of dread every time you notice a questionable stain on your favorite couch to take naps on.
Naturally, some couches are approached with more hesitation and suspicion than others. Why worry about the couch in Hunt Library with vinyl finishing, uncomfortable gaps, and uninviting angles? But the couch in the WRCT Radio Station? That’s a different story. You wouldn’t let your mother sit on the WRCT couch without at least putting down a blanket for her to sit on. The context of late station evenings and The Don Juan Love Hour alter the way the couch is approached. But do hypothetical improper impositions hinder the communal purpose of the couch?
One might observe that the degree of speculative scandalization that the communal couch receives surpasses any genuine anxiety surrounding that way a couch is serviced when office doors are closed. “If that couch could talk…” yeah. But it can’t. It won’t. Some organizations are almost proud of their communal couch and the mythology of its time servicing members. It’s not difficult for anyone who has participated in theater at one time or another to share a story about their department’s notorious couch.
But does the upselling of couch anxieties have an impact on the presence of the couch in day-to-day public spaces where PDA is actively discouraged? The Zebra Lounge used to have a couch. Now it does not. People used to fall in love at the Zebra Lounge and get married (see framed wedding photo in Zebra Lounge next to candid Carnegie Mellon alum Casey Cott of Riverdale fame for evidence). Now they do not. Could the couch be a factor in both marriage and the fame of Casey Cott? Absolutely. The couches in public spaces discourage comfort. The black chairs in the University Center actively expel you and push you away. To take a nap in the UC black chairs is an act of rebellion against the chairs’ intended purpose: to get you to go away, go to class, and be an active cog in the Carnegie Mellon Machine. The UC black chairs aren’t scandalous in nature because they reject humanity. Inhuman designs cannot perpetuate in-human activities. Carnegie Mellon students are tired. If people weren’t so anxious about late-night study scenarios taking a turn, maybe students who aren’t still living in Donner could take comfortable naps without having to waste 40 minutes walking to and from their off-campus bed. Couch anxiety goes too far when it hinders a person’s ability to nap in public spaces.
Couches serve as a space of communal unification. Couches are at the center of the “Friends” universe. Couches have history; it’s up to us to take it or leave it. The couch is the best place to be at a party — why deny yourself that enjoyment because you don’t know what that couch has seen? Couches are great. This is well established. Just because some people enjoy taking their love for couches a little too far doesn’t mean we should be scared to fully engage with everything that a couch can be. Carnegie Mellon can take students time, money, and happiness — but a cozy comfortable couch in a public space? Come and take it.
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