Our conversations veer between playful banter, to serious philosophical debate, to deeply perverted and sensual whisperings. And he calls me “Gorgeous.”
I love that.
To feel so cherished and appreciated by another is almost indescribable. Words are everything to me, and I take notice of the slightest nuance or intonation.
It’s not an everyday epithet, after all. It’s not “Luv” or “Honey” or “Sweetie”. Even “sweetheart”, with its blatant connotations of affection, is too mundane to have much of an effect on me.
Once, in the midst of a back-and-forth spot of email ribbing, I teased him about something. He came back with “Listen, Shirley — that subject is not a laughing matter!”
Of course, my name is not Shirley. This was a reference to Airplane, one of the movies we quote at each other ad infinitum. But it was so adorable. And it made me laugh. Which, in addition to truly fantastic sex, is all I ask for.