I'm no Doris Day and I don't like country music. But I do appreciate that my husband calls me honey, sweetie, and, occasionally, even snoogums (" 'Snoogums' Will Never Live Here," Jan. 30).
It's not that we have a sappy relationship. Trust me, when you're barely living from paycheck to paycheck, you've got a baby on the way, and your jobs are such that the only time you see each other is in the bathroom with a wad of toothpaste in your mouth, there's not a lot of time or energy left for sap. But my husband and I both believe that our relationship must always come first. And part of that means a committed effort to be nice to one another.
After all, when your life is filled with dishes, bills, laundry and exhaustion, how is it going to make either one of us feel better to get "the damage report"? That sounds like I'm asking for a statistical analysis, not a conversation.
I'm sorry for this woman who doesn't feel that endearments, no matter how small, are important.