Daniel and I are arguably the most unromantic people in the world. It isn't that we don't love or enjoy each other. It's just that romance isn't really our bag. I like to be surprised about as much as I like wormy broccoli, which makes gifts tricky. Daniel isn't keen on roses or chocolate or perfume, and unless I have serious change left over from groceries, I can't afford the things he really does want. It works out well. We just make a pact not to buy anything and shake on it for good measure.
The boys reinforce our natural unromantic tendencies. With them around, candles inspire blowing contests, fancy meals incorporate ground beef or chicken, and the table looks like a Jackson Pollock painting when we're finished. Deep conversation revolves around the Backyardigans or the latest trip to the library. It is periodically interrupted by "powing" or "vrooming" noises depending on whether Nathan is a cowboy or a race car driver for the evening.
We have never called each other "honey" or "sweetie" or "babe." I would probably wince if Daniel tried to get my attention that way. He would surely shudder if I tried it. Occasionally, we do call each other "friend," as in "Hey, Friend, how was your day?" It seems most appropriate.