This is Something I’m Hoping Won’t Catch On

So last night as I was clearing my plate from my dinner, which we had enjoyed in front of the television in the living room, naturally, my wanna-be-Chris-Rock-boyfriend-for-life XFE threw out this casual comment: “Be careful not to soy sauce.”

This, gentle readers, is a reference to an earlier incident that I would very much like to put behind me.

An incident also involving dinner in front of the television. Only that time, it was delicious delivery sushi. As I was clearing the plates after a feast of crunchy scallop rolls and other assorted Japanese goodness, and heading towards the TWO measly stairs that separate the unused dining room from our living room, I soy sauced.

For some unknown reason, I tripped on the stairs. I was barefoot, so it’s not as if my shoe or flip flop caught on the edge of the stairs. I did not stub my toe. There were no random cat toys lying haphazardly upon the stairs. There were, in short, no obstacles. I merely….tripped. Which led to me sliding in slow motion on my stomach across the dining room. Which led to soy sauce flying out of their little ramekins and splattering all over at least three of the very pale yellow walls of our dining room. And the lovely gray and white dining room rug. And the wood floor, of course. The ringing clatter of ceramic dishes were the only sound that punctuated the scene.

The thing I remember most about this small incident, was looking over toward the kitchen and seeing XFE roll his eyes, and grab a towel, all without saying a word. As if, “of course my girlfriend is lying on her stomach amongst broken dishes and soy sauce. Time for me to clean up her mess.” Which he did.

And now, all of a sudden, months later, “soy saucing” has become a verb in our house, to basically mean, “to bite it.” I don’t even know how or why this has come up again.

After that first casual comment as I was clearing dishes last night, XFE proceeded to use it intermittently throughout the night. “Petunia, be careful going down the stairs. You don’t want to soy sauce.” “Man, that kid on X Factor really soy sauced it.” “Somebody soy sauced the radio setting on the clock radio.”

You don’t think this is going to catch on, right? I mean, he’ll grow tired of it at some point, no? If I ignore it, do you think soy sauce as a descriptor will go away? How has this entered our relationship vocabulary?

This is just great. And now I’m craving sushi with a side of humiliation.