Who is my wittle pookie poo?

In my 20s, I always winced and felt slightly queasy whenever I heard couples call each other pet names in public. “Get a life!” I’d mutter to myself if I witnessed two love birds cooing to each other and calling one another Teddy Bear. I’m about to eat some humble pie. Now I’m in my late-30s and I am (gulp) one of those icky, treacley women who calls her spouse...