Ggffg?!?

Fab has been trying hard to cough up a lung for the last week now. In my usual loving, supportive way, I shoved as much Ny-Quil in his face as I could and went to sleep in the guest room.

I am sure he will feel better when he sees this post.

Franglais à la Gina and Fabien has been an important key to our communication for as long as we have been together. Naturally, the language of our love has developed over time and we innovate as necessary. Several years ago when we watched the film Un long dimanche de fiancailles (A Very Long Engagement) we were charmed by the way the two young lovers, Mathilde and Manech carved MMM in anything that would hold still long enough as code for "Manech aime Mathilde, Mathilde aime Manech." Get it, MMM? Aime is pronounced like the letter M. Anyway, we adopted this technique, sans carving, and added a little extra vocab of our own. In a loving mood? GMF: Gina aime Fab. Pissed off because Gina just tickled you again even though you asked her nicely to leave you the hell alone? FMG: Fab merde Gina. Or FDG: Fab deteste Gina.

When Fab first started learning English, his favorite word (not unlike English learners around the globe, I suppose,) was fuck. He used it like punctuation for months at the beginning of our relationship. When I brought him home to meet the fam a few weeks before we got married, somehow at dinner, the conversation turned to the use of profanity. No doubt, one of us had let something unsavory slip. My mom turned to Fab, who understood about 15% of what was being said around him at the time, and asked if he was in the habit of using such language. "No. Never," was his sensible reply. Then he corrected himself, adding "I often say fuck," and it took about 10 minutes for us to wipe away our tears from laughing so hard. My mom did her best to maintain a disapproving demeanor, to no avail. 

Before he really had a good feel for the versatility of the f-bomb, he used it in a haphazard, albeit hilarious fashion. When he was angry with his boss, he would come home and exclaim, "I fuck my boss!" One would be mistaken to assume that I corrected this misuse immediately. It was simply too funny. No, I waited a good long while before I explained the implications of his ejaculations.

So, this past weekend, I was sleeping soundly in the guest bedroom, just barely managing to block out the sound of Fab's whooping cough, since our bedroom is just below. At 7:45 am I received a most unwelcome text message from him: "Hi GG! are you sleeping?" The obvious answer was, "Not anymore!!!" Without looking at my phone, I ran my finger over the keyboard, hit send, put my phone on silence and tried to go back to sleep. 

Later that day, when Fab was pouting ever so slightly and complaining that I had told him to eff-off, I denied it vehemently. Why would I do that? He hadn't done anything eff-off worthy all day. He showed me the message I had sent, sure that I had done it because I was mad that he woke me up. 

It read: "GGFFG"* 

I don't think he will ever believe my side of the story, so I told him it was unconscious revenge for what he did to me on April Fools Day.

* Fab is FG