I clearly have strong opinions. Some of these opinions have formed from origins unknown…and some have formed from things that I later found that didn’t suit me… after I had formed opinions on other things. If that makes sense? Maybe I said it backwards.

I truly cannot stand pet names and quietly judge (and not so quietly sometimes) my friends for using or receiving them. The true hatred began when I dated someone about 3 years younger than me. He was unable to accept that I didn’t want a boyfriend, refused to give me the space I wanted…and called me “babe”. I mean, that should have been enough to say no thanks, but, to explain my brain at the time…I was in a place we all know.

I had ended a relationship a little less than a year before meeting him, wanted to work on myself (didn’t do the work) but really didn’t WANT to be alone (couldn’t be alone). We can have all the best intentions for ourselves, but maybe it comes down to: (I’ve asked friends this as well)

What do we think we deserve?

Maybe it’s what someone seems to be able to offer us?

A way to escape the work we know we need to do?

A way to feel wanted?

For someone to tell us we are beautiful?

To give us a reason to get out of the bed we can’t seem to move from?

To just stop crying for ONE GODDAMN MINUTE?

I think there’s a million different sub-reasons for why we do not listen to the plan that we KNOW will be best for our emotional health.

OH! And the THE MOST ANNOYING reason you can’t shake:

“Maybe this is the one”

It’s hard to resist that particular one, especially at the beginning. We are conditioned to think that this tricky, FUCKING disaster MIGHT JUST BE HIDING THE LOVE OF OUR LIFE. Because “love is hard and it takes work”. We get rewarded for hard work. We are taught that so young. Sometimes the conditioning is toward the good…like because of our model parents that somehow made it through… but it will, sometimes, sadly justify bad behavior by adults around us. And that could mean anyone, not just our non-model, shitty parents.

If we give up too fast, we’re impatient or we don’t care; didn’t try. But if we hang on TOO long, we’re weak, don’t know ourselves or maybe…just desperate. I know most of us have figured out that love doesn’t have to be some form of medieval torture to have been real, even if it ends. I’ve had loves in my life that were easy. Ones that came to me without a second thought. Maybe the endings weren’t SO easy but the love itself was truly joyous; an emotionally rewarding experience. Sure, there’s work involved, but once we become a slave to that work (when it doesn’t work)—the joy just leaves.

“Love is hard and it takes work”. How do we even win when that’s what is impressed on our brain? We can still lose?!? Even after we’ve done the work?!? Do we ever win? What is winning? Should love be about winning EVER?

Changing perspective: where do we find the leveling plank? How do we establish our checks and balances? 

Boundaries (even for something seemingly as innocent as pet names). 

I started off my romantic life (at 14) really very unaware of emotional boundaries. I had a fairytale first relationship, minus when he cheated. We are still friends after 26 years. And weirdly enough, he had a pet name for me. He called me “sweet pea”. It wasn’t this blanket name that all my friends were throwing back and forth. He seemingly had put some thought into it and he only used it when he was expressing real love, affection and adoration for me. It never made me mad, I just thought it was cute, unique and maybe a little quirky…what did I know? Looking back, it was probably just something his grandma called him. But, he DID have a knack for being unique (unique to me by recycling shit, as he was 2 years older than me).

I didn’t really allow anyone to call me pet names after we broke up, as a very thin emotional boundary. Looking back, maybe, because it was the norm… the quintessential, blasé “babe” or whatever the boyfriend had probably called the girlfriend before that. I had known the value in pet names. It gave me a small gauge of effort. Some tools in my newly forming adult tool belt. I wanted deep connections as a teenager. I hoped we had known each other in past lives and we somehow found each other again. I wanted to know everything about you. Please put in the thought as some 16 year old boy did or leave…I have a fucking name, say it. 

For some people, trivial things like pet names do not matter. But what I’m asking, is that if you’ve never thought about how a pet name does or does not matter to you or bother you, what else haven’t you asked yourself? Sometimes, the devil is in the details. And sometimes, it’s just not. It’s just personal preference, shaped by something that happened to a 14 year old girl.

So, going back to the “babe” boyfriend, I had to repeatedly ask him to not call me “babe”. I think it took about 3 or so months but I finally broke him of it. He never really asked me why it annoyed me so bad, which is pretty on point, but most likely because he probably thought it was from some feminist part of my personality.

Shit, I’ll take that. But what I’ve really identified as the issue, is that those things come with intimacy. Intimacy takes time. I refused to get into a relationship with someone, spend MY mental time getting to know them, only for them to call me some knee-jerk pet name, when we BOTH hadn’t put in THE TIME. 

“You called your last girlfriend babe, my name is Tiffany—We are not the same.”-Me (this is for anyone who reads instagram meme’s)

We are all yearning for deeper connections, not knee-jerk, blind, societal reactions. 

Calling me “babe” in a relationship is just like saying “Bless you” to me when I sneeze. It’s cute. It’s probably just what you’re used to…but, “HONEY”, I’m light years from what you’re used to. Act accordingly.