The Love Sack *

In which our Hero takes a B52 to a little old place we can blush together

Barely apropos, but enough that I want to note it, the B-52 Stratofortress is my second favourite military plane bar none. Don’t get me wrong, modern toys like the F35 are mindblowing in their capabilities, but the planes I love best have just an extra element of bad-assness to them. Which on the one hand is a very difficult thing to say about a bomber, which does not dance through the sky.

You look at the plane and it is inherently *different* from everything else. There’s something implacable and hungry to it, and the flights of them from the reels that I remember come with an beautiful and terrifying finality to them. The fact that they don’t dance gives them a determination, a fearless purpose that’s hypnotic and inevitable.

But I digress

So there were a number of suggestions for what I should do about the attitude I’ve been getting from my pedometer. It was kind of interesting to see how other people relate to things because I just cannot imaging ever enjoying my device addressing me as “Handsome.” Doesn’t motivate me, doesn’t reassure me, feels just a teeeeny bit creepy.

And Nocturne weighed with the recommendation that I use… Well… recall that couples sometimes develop sweet, lovey nicknames for each other and sometimes they’re weirder and more obscure and frequently they’re not entirely dignified. Like when I call Nocturne Cutiebuttons,” a name I use for her with pleasure and love and unselfconsciously.

Except for the fact that I’m a manly man, private and reserved, and sometimes I realize that, usually just after I’ve made a kissy noise into the phone and noticed the look I’m getting from the gentleman I hadn’t seen walking nearby. It’s undignified and goofy, and there’s a bit of shyness that comes from that.

Well… she tagged me with a name that seems to have stuck and that I cannot really deal with while keeping a straight face. And I’ve tried to convey to her the giggling horror of it but

… well, it’s undignified and goofy and delivered with love, “in its gutwrenching mushtacular glory.” It’s horribly embarrassing though, and a small part of me feels that as a guy I’m obligated to scowl and harrumph (before indulging my dear woman).

Anyway, she suggested I use that name on my fitbit and well it certainly makes me laugh when I see it at home. Laugh and think of her.

Laugh and think of her and then think of how very embarrassed I’m going to be if someone at work happens to see my fitbit call me this. I’m going to tell them it was a prank if I get caught. It’ll save a small foundation of dignity to rebuild from. Maybe.

But embarrassment does not count as a good reason to say no. Which is why my gadget entreats me in what I desperately hope is the voice of my Lady.

“Let’s Go, Love Sack”

(Sometimes I wonder if I should be more protective of my dignity. But hell, if this was about anybody else I’d be sharing gleefully, and I can’t let my pride get in the way of the hilarity.)

*Edit*

It’s not the only name she calls me. Or even the most common. But it is the funniest