When we first moved in together, I frequently pretended to be a hedgehog (in order to demonstrate to the Lad what a fun pet a hedgehog could be for us). From there I moved on to being an elephant, a goat, and a yeti. I also sometimes walk up to him soberly like I have something important to say and then when I have his attention I explode into the Snoopy dance. I occasionally make up cheers, or run around our circular apartment like a track star. One time I declared myself to be Sister Mary Posterior, a nun in the service of Our Lady of the Bottom. What I almost never do is pretend to be myself, because I have to do that all day at work as it is. So basically, he thought he was moving in with me but he actually is rooming with a bunch of animal crackers.
On top of this, I get worried every six or seven minutes that he doesn’t know how fond I am of him. Then I have to draw him a cartoon about our beautiful love and fold it into a paper airplane and fling it at his head, so he knows we are still doing fine. Or sometimes, for variety, I rush up to him as fast as I can with a panicked expression, as if he were on fire, and fling myself on him like a limpet and shriek “I glove you! I glove you, pumpkin bread!” He especially likes for me to do this while he is programming or on the phone.
Sometimes I start to worry that he will leave me, because he never displays his true love for me by pretending to be an animal of any kind. Then I have to follow him around the house, clutching the voodoo doll I made of him, and chanting under my breath, “Don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave…” Then I nag him about doing the dishes. So far, it’s all working.