What’s in a (Nick)Name?
I have found yet another area in which I am a defective female: I don’t give my boyfriends (and future spouses) nicknames. Actually, I take that back- there was one vile moment in my life when one of the Chrises (not the current) and I called each other “Petri.” Yes, as in the movie, The Land Before Time. Feel free to puke a little bit in your mouth right now (I just did). Here’s how some of our “conversations” used to go:
Me: Bawidaba, Petri.
One of the Chrises: Nikki, nikki now, Petri.
Not sure about the Kid Rock reference or what “nikki nikki now” meant. All I know is that my good friend Katie loathed being around the two of us because she couldn’t handle the cheese factor.
So besides that one incident, I have never given a boyfriend a nickname. In fact, I cringe at the thought in the same way that normal women shudder at the words “barren ovaries.” My friends find my aversion to nicknames strange, as I am surrounded by bright, intelligent creatures who nickname their boyfriends and spouses things like “Snugglebug”, “Owenbear”, and “Sneezebottom.” Yes, you read that last one correctly. If these women (all successful and not in the least bit annoying) can get away with it, why can’t I?
To be honest, I’m not sure why Chris and I haven’t adopted cutesy monikers for each other. Maybe it’s because we’re too busy naming everything else, like our car. If you have any good suggestions, I am definitely open. I think.
With 25 days left until we officially become 
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