There were no red flags. No danger signs flashed. I didn’t see it coming. No one older and wiser ever breathed ONE WORD to warn me about the secret monster waiting to spring from the unknown future: furniture incompatibility (FI). Furniture was NEVER discussed in our Preparation for Marriage course or our pre-marital counselling. Why was that? It’s a life-long issue that rears its ugly head every few decades or more frequently, depending on how often you replace it.

Before marriage, we discussed topics like money, children, etc. But no one ever warned me about FI. Even the philosopher Will Ferrell views marriage through a long lens and advises people entering this life-long union: “Before you marry a person, you should first make them use a computer with slow internet to see who they really are.” That statement made me laugh, and I wondered why furniture shopping together wasn’t a prerequisite of marriage. Couples might not yet need furniture yet, but looking together is the critical part, not necessarily the actual purchasing at that point.

Why? You might ask. There are many years ahead of snuggling or curling up on opposite ends of your couch or chilling in your chairs. You will also have family hanging out there and visitors enjoying the fruit of your exhausting search. But, here is the vital point: people come in all different heights.

Still not clear why you should check this out before you marry? Learn from my husband and me. He is very tall, I am not. I am rather fond of having my feet touch the floor while sitting. To reach that state, I dislike having to perch on the edge of the seat or hunt for a throw cushion to fill the acres behind my back to have something to lean against. It feels silly to scooch back and have your feet sticking straight out in front of you like Alice in Wonderland on a giant chair or a five-year-old anticipating a story time.

If I touch the floor, the edge of the seat will hit my husband mid-thigh. If there is a support bar there, as our recently replaced reclining couch and loveseat had, he has the pleasure of having its presence intrude on his awareness every time he sits. That problem wasn’t obvious when we purchased the set but became more apparent as the padding compacted over the years. That knowledge in our memory banks now creates another consideration while shopping.

A second factor to evaluate before you tie the permanent knot of shopping for furniture together for life is the preferred cushiness of the back and seats. I like about nine on the scale, with one being a marshmallow and ten being a granite slab. My husband likes something around three.

Earlier in our marriage, we made choices out of ignorance, but as the years passed and our bodies changed, the awareness of our preferences increased, as did the gulf between our comfort zones. Having separate living rooms wasn’t an option, so we needed to find a solution, and the hunt continued.

Eventually, friends introduced us to a small independent company that carried a style we agreed on. That was an exciting find! Not only could we choose our desired style and fabric, but they also put extra stuffing in the back and firm foam in the seats! It’s not a nine on the scale (and my husband breathes a sigh of relief), but it works.

Some couples without height or comfort discrepancies will never know the pain of FI and the trials of furniture shopping. Lucky them. I once shared an apartment with a young woman who was six feet in height. She was disgusted that I was dating someone tall. As she saw it, I could be happy with anyone, so why did I need to take a tall one? I won’t trade my altitudinous spouse—he’s a good man. Plus, he can reach shelves that I can’t. But someone might have warned me about the looming challenge awaiting.

There is merit to Will Ferrell’s observation about checking how your future spouse responds to slow internet. That might be a good question for pastors and counsellors to tuck into their pre-marital counselling toolbox. But please, also shine a light on the monster hiding (or sitting) in the future. No one warned me.