Hey Sparky, who did you think you were talking to again?

Dear Husband,
I sometimes marvel at the fact that occasionally we seem so incredibly in tune with each other. At the risk of sounding either kitsch or naf, like we are two halves of the same whole. Kindred spirits or perhaps soulmates. All it might take is my sardonically raised eyebrow and the quick quirk of your lips in response and its like we have just had a full conversation with each other because I know that you know exactly what I am thinking.
We can walk down the street side by side in companionable silence past emo kids looking suitably moody and angst laden in their excessive black and skinny jeans, past women who are wearing pants that are too low, heels that are too high and tops that are too tight or past mincing metros and prancing popinjays then turn towards each other with an “Oh my God!” and a “Totally!”. I know that we will be referring to precisely the same thing and there exists a sort of shorthand between us that requires no elaboration because we each “get it”.
There are times when our dialogue is somewhat oblique to the casual observer and we don’t bother to fill in the blanks with each other as there simply is no need. There are other times however that it seems we are speaking a completely different language. That is, apart from the times when we actually are speaking different languages of course. I will still pepper my speech ever so slightly with German because I am trying to teach you “alles klar” and “keine Ahnung” (which are very useful phrases) but sometimes I wonder if you realise that there are those times when I actually have no idea what you are talking about at all.
Like with directions. You constantly make fun of the fact that my sense of direction is rather unique given that I have my left and my other left. But sometimes, especially when I am on the phone with you, you will tell me to head East or towards a landmark when it has been clearly established that I don’t actually know where the hell I am in relation to anything. Hello….! You are talking to the girl who will still on occasion look down to her hands to figure out which thumb and index finger make an “L” shape palm down. I’m not proud, I’m just saying. So giving me boy directions doesn’t help.
You need to master the art of giving me girl directions. You know, like “remember the way you went last time you were there? Well go the other way” or “when you get to the bottom of the stairs, don’t go up the hill, walk down instead”. I seem to have quite a literal mind and have the capability to follow instructions exactly but only when I understand the frame of reference to begin with it seems. Just like the whole “can you check if the door is shut” thing.
The other night, you asked me to check if the front door was shut. I therefore walked over to where I could see the door and since I couldn’t see any shadows around the door frame, I was happy that the door was indeed shut. Before we turned in for the night however, you asked me if I had actually checked the door when you had requested. I said that I had and was starting feel a little guilty that I hadn’t been bothered at the time to actually walk up to the door to check and maybe got it wrong so I queried why you would ask later. What then ensued was a discussion about the meaning of “shut” whereby it was eventually made obvious that when you said “shut”, you didn’t actually mean “shut”. Well you did kind of, by proxy, because when you said “shut”, what you actually meant was “locked”. I was all like “dude, you didn’t ask me that!”.
I don’t have enough fingers to count the times you have told me to be more specific when I say things to you yet you looked so disappointed that I had taken you at your word and not what you hoped was the implied meaning. You then asked me if I could remember in future that when you ask me whether the door is shut, you will want to know if its locked. I figured sure, as long as you can remember that it seemed a perfectly logical question to ask whether the door was shut (and not locked) this time around so the next time you ask that particular question, it may completely not occur to me that you’d like me to reinterpret the question. I wasn’t trying to be a pain in the backside. That just comes naturally. So I just thought I’d mention it.
Pedantically yours,
Your Loving Wife
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