Kids, in 2018, I came to the realisation that probably one of the main reasons I was still single was that I just couldn’t handle pet names and more specifically, being called “Baby”.

I mean, why the f*** do people have this insatiable need to bless their significant others with cutesy nicknames that made me want to vomit every time I heard them?

Where was this tirade coming from, I hear you ask? Well, remember Mr I say I love you too soon?

We were still chatting for a while after his premature exclamation of catching feelings and one particular evening, he was ending every goddamn sentence with “Baby” on WhatsApp.

Not matter how many times I gave him the Nymeria seen face…

he just carried on calling me “Baby”.

At this point, I was fuming because for the love of f***Destiny’s Child, my mama had blessed me with a strong AF name (which literally means superiority!) so how hard was it to:

Brother man needed to be schooled, hard and fast. The next morning, we had it out in a series of texts:

Me: “So… what’s with the Baby thing?”

Him: “I guess it’s not cool?”

Me: “It’s not”

Him: ” Are you sure? Well, sorry about that if it’s not cool with you”

Me: “I don’t do pet names… we are not teenagers or lovesick puppies so cut that s*** out”

Him: “Ok, I will respect your choice but most times I can’t resist it because I cannot resist you”

Gods…

For this explanation, I needed to dip back into my 15-year-old self’s favourite feminist song selection:

Got it? Good!