Sunday, March 9, 2014

Dear Bro's and Hon's

There's an quirk among my male friends.  Almost all of us have a nickname, and for a long time, that name was used much more than our real name.  I have personally given out plenty of them, some well liked by the recipient (Gizmo), others less well liked (Shitporn).  Some people have received multiple nicknames through the years.  The right honorable Mayor Yolo McCheese has also been known as Chinbilly, which he hated with the passion of 1000 fiery gerbils, and Sir Luther Shabazz in the last ten years.  I have always had my reasons for using these, mostly out of a sense of familiarity and brotherhood.  These are people I care about, and I want them to know it through clever and sometimes offensive nomenclatures.

I am also infamous for rejecting any name given to a friend's pet, and substituting my own.  Cadfael the cat became Gigglesvitch, his sister Aoife was Sweet Lou.  Some pets, I never even bothered to learn their real names, because the names I gave were far superior.  This applies to any number of dogs that I have dubbed "Flapjack", as well as Professor Von Whiskerson the Cat.

One of the only instances where I am not free with the pseudonyms is with my lady friends.  If I dated you, you were never sweetie, honey, baby, darlin', or the ever popular sugartits. I usually called you by your given name because that is one of the only signs of respect I have left. 

What I cannot abide is the use of pet names for people you barely know.  If you meet me at a bar or out somewhere, please know that I am not your bro.  We are not brosephs, broheims, broba fetts, Hall and Broats,  or bro choice.  These are not nearly as clever as you think they are, and nowhere near as cute.  To your knowledge, I am not a high ranking fireman or police officer, so don't call me "chief".  I do not and would never willingly employ you, so don't call me "boss".  In the same token, ladies, don't call me hon, sweetie, or some other placeholder.  You don't know me like that.  We've never slept together, or at the very least made out behind a Popeye's with Asia's Heat of the Moment playing over the car stereo, so you don't have the right to use those terms with me.  Only diner waitresses can call me this, and only if they are wearing traditional diner uniforms and/or have made out with me.

For whatever reason, this feigned familiarity irks me to no end.  What is truthfully a case of you not remembering or never knowing my name, or an attempt to act chummy, falls flat and feels phony.  Why can't we just accept that we do not know each other, and that there is no need for us to try?  No one likes meeting new people, and if they say they do, they're planning on stealing your organs, both musical and meat based. 

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