In June of last year, Twitter user kikosdreamworld tweeted one simple, devastating fact:
“every gay girl wants a green velvet couch.”
every gay girl wants a green velvet couch
— keek (@kikosdreamworld) June 10, 2021
I was shook because I, a gay woman, was currently hunting for a new couch and my top choices were emerald green and olive green. I was in a perpetual state of saving up for the couch and then running into financial emergencies that took those funds away for, arguably, more important things.
Perhaps I wasn’t ready for the gay green couch. I polled my close friends on Instagram to help me find a couch that would match a new rug I got for free from a date. Yes, they brought the rug on the date. Yes, I also got a new pair of shoes from this person. That’s lesbian dating.
In any event, it took me almost a year to acquire the gay green couch. I was torn about buying it before an impending move, but I found the most charming couch for sale and didn’t want to miss it, so I used a paycheck I got from writing to buy this new couch, and, reader, it’s a stunner.
This couch is a velvet emerald green with elegant arms, an almost ruched back, and little walnut wooden feet. It was five days late arriving and came in a weathered box weighing in at 56 kg. I had been asking friends all week to help me move it but two of my housemates ended up being up for the job.
So I got the gay green couch. What’s next? Assembling it.
The instructions for putting this couch together stated in bold print “this is a two-person job! don’t try and do it by yourself!” and I said, “I’m a dyke” and proceeded to try and put it together by myself.
The first step was unscrewing some screws with an Allen Wrench, and while most of them came out without hesitation, two of them were unprecedently stubborn. I was already in a tough spot. Nevertheless, I persisted, telling myself I would get them undone at the last minute.
I anchored the arms to the front base and slid the back of the couch into place with relative ease. Then I ran into my problem: The screws I couldn’t unscrew were integral in the next step.
I sent a sweet but pleading text to the house group chat asking for help again. The guy in the apartment next to mine came to my rescue with two (2!) sets of special Allen Wrenches and his gay wit.
The screws weren’t coming out because they needed a different wrench, and my neighbor had just the right one for the job. He helped me lay the base of the couch in place and strap on the cushion. Then, the deed was done. I sat on my couch triumphantly in my matching green Parade legging and bralette set. I was feeling very butch, girls! Even though I did ask for help, I still put most of the couch together by myself!
The instructions for the couch said to set aside an hour for assembly. It took me three. I put on some music and got to work with my toolset and my deeply underutilized muscles. I lay on the couch breathless, yet feeling triumphant, and dreaming of all the things I wanted to do on the couch.
These are the things I will do on my gay green couch:
While the style of my couch is not a fainting couch, it is a three-person seater and fits nicely in a one-bedroom apartment. So I plan to use it to be as dramatic as humanly possible. A poem got rejected for publication? Faint. I get another job rejection? Faint. An old flame reemerges in my life at 2 a.m. on a weekday? Faint.
I truly believe it is the regal velvet emerald green that lends itself to these kinds of antics! I never fainted on my old couch, a bulky cream sleeper with blue and orange stripes that I sold on Lex. While sturdy, it just wasn’t exactly built for Victorian-era escapades.
This new couch is perfect for this kind of carrying-on and I fully plan on using it for such.
I’ve already written a whopper of a poem on this couch, but I can only imagine that more will pour out of me when I sit on it again. A problem I have with this couch is that it’s so beautiful I just want to look at it, not sit on it. So I’ve been sitting mostly in my stylish pink living room chairs. But, when I do sit on the couch, poetry sort of does…flow out of me.
I’m writing poems about lesbian longing, about breakups, about bad memories. The sheer support and force of the couch against my body is lifting the words out of me. It’s magic, pure homosexual witchcraft. This piece of furniture has turned me into a more sensual woman and I have to commemorate it with some deeply sexual poems.
Kiss a Beautiful Woman
Full disclosure, I haven’t kissed someone beautiful in a long time. Every time I come close, we have another variant rising up out of the ether and I’m too scared to venture out again. And, to be honest, I don’t really see myself getting involved with anyone before I move. A move across states encapsulates so much work that I get exhausted thinking about it.
But when I am settled in my new home? Oh baby there’s gonna be some kissin. So much in fact I might have to revamp my morning and nightly lip care routines. So much kissing it is gonna be alarming to hear about, and trust me you will hear about it. Watch this space as they say. Nothing more than kissing though because I don’t want to get fluids on the velvet.
Take Thirst Traps
If you don’t follow me on Instagram or aren’t one of the friends I send sexy photos to, you may not know about my thirst traps. They are quite exquisite. They are alluring, sexy, captivating, legendary. My boobs, my hips, my thighs, all that meat on display! For free most of the time! It’s really a public service. A lot of people deserve to see me in a bodysuit or a garter.
I’ve already taken some very risque pics in a lavender babydoll that are just…too hot to handle. I know that if a beautiful hot sexy woman sent me pics of her lying half-naked on a forest green couch I would absolutely lose it. I would be having fevered dreams. I’m very attracted to myself if you can’t tell :).
As I am making a huge life change in the coming months, I imagine I will be crying a lot on my couch. I got my old couch with my ex. We picked it up at a sketchy man’s house in a far-out neighborhood and lugged it up the stairs ourselves. We fought on that couch, had sex on that couch, I did a lot of crying on that couch in the weeks leading up to our break up.
It’s only right that I shed some tears on this new couch, not full out sobbing but the kind of cry where you kind of let the tears roll then dab them away bashfully with a silk handkerchief. Which reminds me, I need a silk handkerchief.
As I move I’m also leaving behind two of the most important relationships I have, my two therapists. So I imagine I’ll be crying a lot over that and crying with my new therapist who I have to open up to and tell my whole life story to again. Like girl read the notes!
Contemplate My Future
I spend a lot of time thinking about my future and it only stands to reason that I would be doing the same on my new, fit-for-a-queen couch. I’ll be barefoot, curled up in the corner of the couch with my notebook, writing out all the things I want in the next five years of my life. I’ll think about my future wife, books and other projects to come, and how maybe if I want it bad enough, I could possibly grow a few more inches.
I have more hope for my future than I’ve ever had in my life and this new couch is a huge part of it. I’m now a sexy lesbian with a velvet green couch, nothing can stand in my way! The world is my oyster and this is that scene in Ratched, you know the one.
Read a Book
Picture me in my smart glasses, reading a book of poetry and going “mmm” out loud at particularly poignant lines. I lick my finger as I turn the page, brow furrowed, sharpie pen poised in the air as I underline lines that strike me. Reading on the couch is one of my favorite past times, but I imagine on this new couch it will be a more alluring endeavor. Like maybe I’m in a negligee, the sheer silk failing to conceal my alert nipples. Or something like that.
I use a bookmark from my favorite local bookstore to keep track of my place in the book. Maybe I’m writing a review of this book or going to put it into In Verse. Who knows, but I look damn good while doing whatever I’m doing.
Break Somebody’s Heart
Picture it, you and I are dating. I have invited you over to “talk.” You’re nervous because you kind of know what’s coming. I offer you sparkling water or a glass of juice. You decline and sit on the edge of this comfortable, luxurious couch. I place my hand on your thigh and tell you things just aren’t working out. Maybe I have met someone else, or maybe things just aren’t going as we expected.
You’re crushed, but also absolutely enthralled by the sheer quality of this velvet, the deep green of the couch like an inviting, warm forest. You can feel it against your thighs, your hands, you feel like you’re being sucked into the couch but supported by it at the same time. It’s a mind game, this couch. You want to cuss me out but you can’t because I look like a vision against the stark, emerald green. I’m smiling politely at you waiting for your answer.
You’re not in love with me but you will miss the couch.
What do you think I should do on the Gay Green Couch? Let me know in the comments!