Butt Pats and Pet Names
I’ve reached a point in marriage where two things keep the romance alive far better than candlelit dinners or long walks on the beach: butt pats and pet names . Yes, really. Forget diamonds — give me a well-timed booty smack and someone calling me “Honey Muffin,” and I feel fully cherished. Let me explain. The Drive-By Butt Pat: An Art Form There is a sacred marital ritual I like to call the drive-by butt pat . You know the one — you’re walking past your spouse on your way to the kitchen, the couch, or anywhere snacks might be found, and suddenly WHAP : gentle, supportive, affectionate contact. Now, some might call it juvenile. I call it emotional enrichment. A butt pat says: “Hey, I like you.” “Still cute.” “Nice pants.” “Just checking this is still mine.” It’s marital Morse code. Sometimes the pat is a playful tap. Sometimes it’s more of a soft squeeze that says, “Hello, yes, I am your legally bonded partner, and I appreciate your structural i...