That’s how she pronounced it. Or maybe ‘thaing,’ as in ‘It’s just a wee thaing.’ She’s got this Castlemilk drawl and I struggle over the actual phonetic sound of the words she says. I struggle also in trying to describe the physical effect on me of her reducing the act we shared to a thing.
But to be honest I don’t notice her accent any more, except when she stresses words impatiently, or loses her temper. Both true in this case.
To expand, she said to me in exasperation, ‘All you ever talk about is love, and it’s such a wee thaing.’
Then she got out of bed and went into the bathroom. I drifted into a morphine like post-coital slumber.