For the whole of our relationship, I’ve been thrilled by irritating, harassing, and teasing my wife.

It’s something like how a five-year-old boy pushes down a girl at recess, or how a nine-year-old puts worms in a girl’s desk, or how a sixteen-year-old steals a hair clip. Yes, I’m guilty of all three. These are, in our own weird way, expressions of love much like a sixth love language that’s just a socially awkward cousin the other five try to ignore at family reunions.

Provided she knows I’m teasing, it’s all pleasant. I don’t like getting her actually angry, but a little vexation and fluster can be fun for me.

One of my favorite outcomes is when I get her verbally snappy, retorting with little comments each time I push another button. This is fun because it has the highest potential for an offhand, unthinking “Bite me!”

Which I receive, naturally, as an instruction and license to do just that. It’s a great ending, to be in the middle of the grocery store with her bobbing and weaving, trying to dodge a nibble on the neck or shoulders or arm, and swatting me with whatever happens to be in her hand.

Of course, in that setting, that could mean she’s slapping me with a bag of cereal or with a can of green beans. So sometimes I keep my teeth to himself.

Originally posted 2015-08-14 08:00:40.