I've always heard people say that marriage changes you. Having been thoroughly married for a month now, and thus an expert in all things pertaining to the subject, I can attest that this is true. At least, it has some strange power over your vocal chords and intonations.
Peter and I have always had a fondness for goofiness, but somehow vowing to be together forever caused us to throw all seriousness out the window, especially when addressing one another.
"Who's a good girl??" and "Who do I love?" all in dog-speak appropriate tones are something I hear multiple times each day, and, of course, being the tax-paying, money earning, college graduate that I am, I invariably respond, "Is it me???" in my best puppy voice right back.
Puppy voices aside, we have also grown fond of every form of alternate voice, dialect, or accent that we can muster, even though I have no recollection of ever deciding to add such things to our daily lives. On one occasion I can even recall telling Peter genuinely, "We need to stop using weird voices" while using a Russian accent. Peter only laughed. I suppose I am even harder to take serious as a Russian than I am as an American.
Sure it's fine if couples are weird with one another, however, sometimes Peter and I fail to remember that people are around and don't usually address each other in strange accents or Dogese (a variant of Motherese that is much more cool cuz it's for dogs and as we all know dogs>babies), which is a possible reason why people don't seem to come hang out with us much anymore.
Beyond voices, the name calling excels post-marital commitment. I've never been all that fond of the name "Babe" and therefore, Peter and I had never addressed each other as such. In fact, anytime I use the term "Babe" in endearment form, I am forcibly reminded of The Office episode in which Jim and Pam attend Michael and Jan's for a dinner party and the latter two spend the night fighting while saying "Babe" every other word. However, come to our honeymoon, Peter and I are saying "Babe" like it's the only name we've ever known each other by. Peter's use far surpasses my own, and I've found that there's a level to each stage of Babeosity: Peter's use prior to marriage: 0%, post marriage 50%, post marriage and with company present 90%.
Yet, in this story, Peter is shockingly not the one guilty of "pushing boundaries"...
In the glorious days of our engagement, I discovered I could produce a voice that was so off putting to Peter that he claimed it made certain parts of his body migrate to places that they are not supposed to be (heh look at me talking all fancy about testicles, you probably didn't even know that's what I was talking about). One night this week, I happened to stumble upon this voice again, causing Peter to make very unhappy noises and retreat away from me. Being the determined wife I am, I decided in that moment that I could conquer the world and persuade anyone of anything if I could woo my husband using the most off-putting voice I had.
So, that's how I came to be running around our small studio apartment in my underwear, armed with a Nerf gun, chasing my husband while calling, "Peeeeeeeettteeeeer" with my anti-sex voice, (which, for those interested, is an airy, whimpering, simper that includes chuckles every so often. It's fabulous. Trust me). For some reason unbeknownst to me, shooting Peter with foam and rubber bullets didn't seem to be helping my case, nor did me pulling out a nearby lightsaber, and I soon lost him. This was surprising to me, because, although my husband is small, there's a limited amount of places that a 5'3 body can be stashed in our apartment. Ultimately, while I stood, crouched and ready for attack atop our bed, my husband was curled beneath it hiding from the monster he had vowed to take and love forever.
Come on, Babe. Eez not dat baaaad, let me lav yoo.
Peter and I have always had a fondness for goofiness, but somehow vowing to be together forever caused us to throw all seriousness out the window, especially when addressing one another.
"Who's a good girl??" and "Who do I love?" all in dog-speak appropriate tones are something I hear multiple times each day, and, of course, being the tax-paying, money earning, college graduate that I am, I invariably respond, "Is it me???" in my best puppy voice right back.
Puppy voices aside, we have also grown fond of every form of alternate voice, dialect, or accent that we can muster, even though I have no recollection of ever deciding to add such things to our daily lives. On one occasion I can even recall telling Peter genuinely, "We need to stop using weird voices" while using a Russian accent. Peter only laughed. I suppose I am even harder to take serious as a Russian than I am as an American.
Sure it's fine if couples are weird with one another, however, sometimes Peter and I fail to remember that people are around and don't usually address each other in strange accents or Dogese (a variant of Motherese that is much more cool cuz it's for dogs and as we all know dogs>babies), which is a possible reason why people don't seem to come hang out with us much anymore.
Beyond voices, the name calling excels post-marital commitment. I've never been all that fond of the name "Babe" and therefore, Peter and I had never addressed each other as such. In fact, anytime I use the term "Babe" in endearment form, I am forcibly reminded of The Office episode in which Jim and Pam attend Michael and Jan's for a dinner party and the latter two spend the night fighting while saying "Babe" every other word. However, come to our honeymoon, Peter and I are saying "Babe" like it's the only name we've ever known each other by. Peter's use far surpasses my own, and I've found that there's a level to each stage of Babeosity: Peter's use prior to marriage: 0%, post marriage 50%, post marriage and with company present 90%.
Yet, in this story, Peter is shockingly not the one guilty of "pushing boundaries"...
In the glorious days of our engagement, I discovered I could produce a voice that was so off putting to Peter that he claimed it made certain parts of his body migrate to places that they are not supposed to be (heh look at me talking all fancy about testicles, you probably didn't even know that's what I was talking about). One night this week, I happened to stumble upon this voice again, causing Peter to make very unhappy noises and retreat away from me. Being the determined wife I am, I decided in that moment that I could conquer the world and persuade anyone of anything if I could woo my husband using the most off-putting voice I had.
So, that's how I came to be running around our small studio apartment in my underwear, armed with a Nerf gun, chasing my husband while calling, "Peeeeeeeettteeeeer" with my anti-sex voice, (which, for those interested, is an airy, whimpering, simper that includes chuckles every so often. It's fabulous. Trust me). For some reason unbeknownst to me, shooting Peter with foam and rubber bullets didn't seem to be helping my case, nor did me pulling out a nearby lightsaber, and I soon lost him. This was surprising to me, because, although my husband is small, there's a limited amount of places that a 5'3 body can be stashed in our apartment. Ultimately, while I stood, crouched and ready for attack atop our bed, my husband was curled beneath it hiding from the monster he had vowed to take and love forever.
Come on, Babe. Eez not dat baaaad, let me lav yoo.
No comments:
Post a Comment