Please don’t call me sweetheart!

By Joanne Amedeo

Not sure it’s happened to you but I’ve found that suddenly I have a whole lot of  people who think they are my sweetheart.  At least that’s what they call me.

I have sweethearts in retail, sweethearts at the grocery store, at the hairdresser, the dental office and almost anywhere I go.

In truth, I am not their sweetheart at all and the name annoys me.  I am not sure why, but I think it’s the familiarity I don’t welcome.  Somehow. “sweetheart” makes me feel vulnerable and fragile.  In my mind I am not. I do know that I walk more slowly and tire more easily and that my hair is white and my face lined but does that make me a “sweetheart”?  I’d rather be venerable.

You see, in my mind, I remember having had two successful careers and raised five children at the same time.  I thought that it had made me strong and independent and resourceful.  Of course the people who call me sweetheart can’t know that. What I do appreciate is patience from the person behind me at the checkout while I fumble through my handbag for cash.  I feel gratitude for the Good Samaritan who will pick up something I have dropped and I simply can’t thank anyone enough who offers me their seat on a bus or subway.

To me,  “sweetheart” is an intimate term. Something you share with someone who is close to you – a husband, child or grandchild. I don’t want to be just anyone or everyone’s sweetheart.   It takes the specialness out of the term. On the other hand I am open to a lot of other monikers such as  “ma’am”,  “lady”, or even “hey there”.  Until we know each other much better, please don’t call me “sweetheart” Because. I. Am. Not. Y​our. Sweetheart. Is there anyone else who feels the same?  Let me know.