Sweetie

The news this morning is all agog about Obama calling a reporter, "Sweetie." They also showed tapes of him saying this frequently in the past. Maybe not the best habit to have, but definitely a stupid thing to do when you are running for President. For a cool customer, Obama sure knows how to step in it.

Personally, I don't have huge problem with men calling me sweetie or honey or snookums. It was more Obama's dismissiveness of the woman's question that was the rub. THAT would've been what irked me, not the name. I used to be the only woman in a group of men. One of only a few women in a huge department of men. If I would've taken offense at names like this, which were meant more as terms of endearment, I wouldn't have gained anyone's respect or support. Call me whatever name you want as long as it doesn't cloud the respect owed me as one of your coworkers. I think this is what some people have a problem with since they see it as disrespect.

Today everyone is hypersensitive, looking for how everyone else is out to dis them. However, there are some men of a different generation with different sensibilities. They still adhere to chivalry, hold doors for you, look out for you, even consider it their responsibility to protect you. God bless them.

My father was of this generation. He was charming and sweet. Definitely a "man's man," but he knew how to treat a lady. One day he went to Arby's. Yes, Arby's. When he got to the counter, he went to order his meal. He said to the girl behind the counter, in his carmel soft voice, "Honey, I would like a Number 5." Well, that didn't go over well with the nose-ringed and tattooed gal. She sniped back that, "No one calls me honey except my boyfriend."

To which my unflappable father replied, "Well, then, A**hole, I'd like a Number 5."

Yep, there are worse things than being called sweetie.