Last night, as we were lying in bed about to fall asleep, Iain was, as is his frequent bedtime habit, touching different parts of my body and asking me: "What is this for?" to which I am meant to provide a silly answer, e.g. "The conveyance of cuteness." Sometimes, I provide extremely literal answers, which are amusing in their own way.
Iain, taking my thigh in his hand: What is this for?
Me: Locomoting.
Iain, deliberately misunderstanding me: Vocomoting? Is a vocomotive a train that talks?
Me: No, it's a train that's been put through a vocoder.
Pause.
Both of us, simultaneously, in our best attempts at replicating a vocoded voice: CH-oo-OO CH-oo-OO!
Laughter.
There are moments in any intimate partnership in which the two of you look at one another and realize, "This is why we belong together." That was one of those moments.
We are dorks.
Shakesville is run as a safe space. First-time commenters: Please read Shakesville's Commenting Policy and Feminism 101 Section before commenting. We also do lots of in-thread moderation, so we ask that everyone read the entirety of any thread before commenting, to ensure compliance with any in-thread moderation. Thank you.
blog comments powered by Disqus