Sweet Talk revival: go on, call me Sugar

A friend's Facebook status, about her reaction to a cafe server calling her "lady," kicked off an interesting discussion on the use of such language in transactions and reminded me, again, of how wonderful it is to be different, to have different reactions -- so instructive, I think.  

My friend would have been happier had the server delivered her tea to the table with a simple "here you are" or, if a flourish were really required, how 'bout "friend" or "comrade." My friend was uncomfortable with the use of a gendered form of address, she wrote, and would have preferred none, thank you very much.  She said such terms made her "feel smaller and more powerless than I already am."  

Ouch.

Personally, I'm not a fan of "lady" in this context, because I can only imagine the word really with some edge to it, like "Listen, lady, you think this door is gonna open itself?" by a man (imagined) pushing past me through a doorway, irritated by me just standing there, waiting for him to open the door for me.  I made that whole thing up just to illustrate where my mind goes when I imagine someone, a stranger, addressing me as "lady."  Plus, if that weren't enough, the word fills my head with this Lionel Richie song of the same name.  See?  Not good.  At all. 

But that doesn't mean that I'm on the side of eliminating these little verbal niceties, some would call them filler, even "lady," from our interactions with strangers.  I am the first to admit:

"Sugar" is my particular kryptonite.

Any server anywhere who wants me in his or her pocket just needs to use those two simple syllables, and I am completely disarmed, helpless against the pull of that word.  Swooning even.  Crazy, right?

I profess a fondness also for Hon' and Darlin' and Sweets.

Furthermore, I hereby confess that I myself am a dispenser of such wordlets, using them to lubricate social situations, to build (I hope) rapport with friends and strangers alike, to sprinkle a little pixie-dust on the everyday transactions that could be just mechanical, but with the right, arch dusting of a word or two, turn into genuine bonafide moments of love.

That's right:

LOVE.

I try to keep it under control, dole the words out when the context is right.  I never stray into blatantly gendered language like Babe, but am indeed generous with Dude, Sweetness, Doll and Dollface.  Oh yes, I am.  

This kinda thing is what one of my friend's friends referred to today on Facebook as sweet-talk, as in I think that guy was sweet-talking ya.

Let me say this as clearly as I can:

I think it's high time for a Sweet Talk Revival.

I am willing to risk someone possibly being offended at my taking of this liberty, but I try to be careful.  I am still shaken by a friend who nearly lost his job for indiscriminate use of the word, "brother," a term he uses for everyone, all the time, on the level with my own use of Dude.  With him, everybody's either Brother or Fella.  Brother, though, that word nearly cost him his livelihood -- all it takes it one pissed-off person who hears what he wants to hear, and you can land in a heap of trouble.  My friend was exonerated, but I think "brother" may never be the same for him.

But like I said, I'll risk it.  

I love these little words.  They fill me with cozy diner images of a kind server leaning over my coffee cup with yet-another free refill, a kind of friendly Americana that represents something that's best about us -- an openness, a willingness to give a brother a hand.  And it totally matters to me when people use them on me.  I look up with a start, at the specific person taking my order when they say, "what'll you have, sweetheart?"  My little heart, maybe it's weak, it skips a beat.  I feel, in that moment, petted and stroked, and yes, by someone who is perhaps yet a stranger,

Loved.

I realize that a lot of people are sensitive about a lot of stuff, including precisely this kind of language. I've excised a lot of language I learned as a kid that I never realized was pernicious ("you totally gypped me," for example, or the "paddie wagon," just two that blew my mind when I figured them out).  But for fuck's sake, why on earth would we chuck out all these little curlicues of affection, these little affectionate wordlets?  I don't care if you don't really mean it, but when you add that Hon' after a sentence like, "Can I get you another coffee," I just feel happier. I really do.

So bring it.  Call me Sugar, I dare you.  

For my part, I promise to love you up with my words, not in a gross way, whether I know you or not.  Life's too short, too much stuff is shitty.  Toss a fella a bone would ya?  Calling him Honey might just make his whole day.

XX

Comments

[joe]

Nice post sugar