Rockin' romanticism takes us back

I think I’ve made it clear through the years that my husband is romantic.

From warming my side of the bed to making my breakfast every morning, he’s always doing something thoughtful.

Sometimes, I think I give TMI — too much information, you know — about our life, but that’s what I do. I have no secrets.

Here I go again, as a precursor to Valentine’s Day, so reader discretion advised: Have the Pepto-Bismol handy.

My husband has several nicknames for me, but several months ago, he started calling me a different endearment every time he answered my phone calls or when I answered his. They aren’t the garden-variety nicknames.

He’d say, “Hello, Monkey Bread,” or “Hey, Rutabaga.” OK, so that one is “garden variety.”

He’s got a unique sense of humor, and he likes themes. (Once, years ago, he wore a garage-sale tie to work every day and asked people to guess the theme.)

Before Christmas, every time we talked on the phone, he used a holiday-themed greeting.

“Hey, Partridge in a Pear Tree,” or “Hey, Turtle Dove,” “Hi, Silver Bells,” or even “Hey, Peppermint Ice Cream,” for the holiday flavor he loves.

It was always a surprise what he was going to say.

For the past few weeks, he’s gone to ’80s bands. Don’t ask — I have no idea why. We were in our prime in the ’80s, going to college dances (well, at least I was) and listening to music on something called eight-track tapes or cassette tapes.

Yesterday, when I called him to ask a question, he said, “Hey, Kajagoogoo.” I said, “Who?” So he started singing “Too Shy,” and I remembered the one-hit wonder.

He knows much more about music and names of bands than I ever have. One of his games is to grade papers, have the television on the music station and guess the artist without looking. He’s usually right. Not only that, but he can also tell you about the band’s drummer, lead singers and trivia. He’s one of those.

Also this month, he has called me Bananarama; The Bangles; INXS; Modern English; Wang Chung; Human League; Dexys Midnight Runners, to which he had to sing “Come On Eileen” for me to get; Soft Cell, a band I missed in that decade, apparently; and Men Without Hats. That’s a sweet one. So what does your husband call you? Honey? Sweetie? No, Men Without Hats. Weird, I know.

If it takes a few rings for him to answer his cellphone, I know he’s contemplating what to call me. He told me that sometimes he’s ready with a couple; other times, it’s off the cuff. He said his focus is one-hit wonders, but he will go with a better-known group if he has to. One day, he answered with, “Hi, Genesis.”

I’m not sure when this will end because there are a lot of ’80s bands. Then he might move into the ’90s (not his strong suit) or go back to the ’70s (definitely his strong suit). Neither of us knows many of the current groups, so it may end there.

I guess none of that information was too revealing or too mushy.

Then there’s my nickname he uses when he writes me a sweet note: MRFL, which stands for My Reason for Living.

It’s Pepto-Bismol time now.

Senior writer Tammy Keith can be reached at (501) 327-0370 or tkeith@arkansasonline.com.

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