Working over at the college girls' apartment today (there are still issues, goddamnit), and I suddenly noticed several things. First, that for some reason they always want to hang around and talk while I'm working.
Second, that I have repeatedly, and, till today, entirely unconsciously, called both of them "sweetie" or "dear" or "honey," as in, "Would you hand me that screwdriver, sweetie?"
Small background: these are both bright, attractive middle- or upper-middle-class girls. One is studying radiology and the other is pre-med, I think. They're both 19 (again, I think). They certainly have all the (superficial, natch) feminism of girls their age.
But (third) neither has uttered a word of protest that an old, broken-down, panty sniffing, obviously perverted drunk (h/t Wart) whom neither knows well calls both of them "sweetie" and the like. In fact, they seem to enjoy it.
I don't get it, on both our parts.
One other thing: the father of one of these girls (both dads checked me out very closely, and found me, of course, wonderful) is a sketch. They're from Alaska, or at least lived there for years. He's a certified river guide, hunt leader, all that he-man-vs-nature crap. Plus very successful as a salesman of big equipment of some sort. But do you believe this? He told me that he's led grizzly-hunting parties in which he hunted the grizzlies with a spear.
A spear. He said he'd never got one that way, but he's done it.
He can also do stuff carpentry-wise and like that. I hate him, but my hate is tempered by the fact that I knew all this within the first 15 minutes after I met him. Yes, I'm wonderful. Now you, tell me how wonderful I am.
Of course, I did. "Wow!" "Really!" "Cool!"
Update: One time I almost drowned when I dumped my boat on the Verde River and caught my foot in a strap I'd tied stupidly close to the aforementioned foot. I just managed to get loose.
Hero, right? Okay, I cut myself loose with a spear. Fuck you.