I would like to warn you now that this post isn't about deep and meaningful thoughts concerning the concept of love.
I don't do that. I leave it to you to make your own mind up as I'll never do it for you. In fact, if I could tell you what it was, I would be writing lyrics.
This is about shop assistants feeling it's acceptable to call me, 'love'. It's something I really have no objection to, just so long as the person doing it isn't a foetus masquerading as a grown-up.
A couple of months ago, I went to buy a new computer. My husband was with me for the entire time that the patronising sales person was with us. He rolled his eyes when we asked if we could have a discount for buying a laptop at the same time. He squeezed out words along the lines of, 'We can't get away with the same discounts we used to give in the '90s'. This was all very well but if I had to guess, I would say that he was probably born in 1995.
No sooner had my husband left the shop to get the car, the sales wally started to call me 'love'.
Not being one to back down from a challenge, albeit a very childish one, I then proceeded to address him as 'cupcake', 'darling', 'sweetheart', and I'll even admit to throwing in a 'sonny'.
Well he started it. And I'm pretty sure that I won.