![]() En route to obtaining a Psychology degree (would you like fries with that), I once wrote a thesis on the language of love, hence the little diatribe to start this review. ![]() When Barbara Trembath, one of my most trusted foodie sources, told me about a new restaurant named “Tickles & Snooks Wings ‘N Things,” my ears perked up. The terms of endearment at this stage tend to be especially mushy–sobriquets such as “Tickles and Snooks.” Wings & Things at the food court in Albuquerque’s Cottonwood Mall (Photo courtesy of Bill “Roastmaster” Resnik) Newly smitten lovers tend to idealize the object of their affection, amplifying their virtues and downplaying their flaws. ![]() Whether the relationship stage is infatuation, lust, romance or attachment, stage appropriate terms of affection are used. Just as love morphs and changes over time, the language of love undergoes its own transformations, usually reflecting the stages of that crazy little thing called love. Her transgression– violating the Soup Nazi’s queuing process by kissing Seinfeld at the soup line. Rather than incur the “Soup Nazi’s” ire and be subjected to the dreaded admonishment “No soup for you,” Seinfeld pretended he didn’t know the object of his affection, his Schmoopie. The only thing that could cool his ardor was a thickly-accented, stone-faced chef renown for enforcing a strict protocol of queuing, ordering and paying for Manhattan’s best soup. The interior at Wings & Things–west wall festooned with car images In his eponymous television sitcom, Seinfeld nauseated his friends George and Elaine with his openly affectionate behavior, baby talk and especially a term of endearment they found particularly offensive–Schmoopie. Renown for his cooly detached approach towards commitment and for breaking up with women for the the most picayune of reasons, Seinfeld may have, in fact, taken the language of love to new depths (or heights, depending on your perspective). Not even Jerry Seinfeld was exempt from the language of love. It’s when cute nicknames–those mushy, syrupy terms of endearment–are created and used in place of actual names, when phone calls don’t end because neither party can hang up. It is most active–some would say most infantile–when the biochemical pathways of love are waxing to a peak during the relationship stages between infatuation and falling in love. The “language of love.” It can reduce the most eloquent of women to twaddling teeny boppers and the most macho of men to cooing grade schoolers.
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