That was how dishonesty and betrayal started, not in big lies but in small secrets
Amy Tan
There was an Irishman at our work who used to call everyone “Darlin.” This is not an Irish thing. This is an Irishman used to tending bar in the States, being full-tilt charming for tips until it became a permanent part of his personality thing. It is, in fact, incredibly endearing to be called Darlin’ with a thick Irish accent.
My ex was not the sort to call everyone Darlin’, or by any other pet name for that matter. So when we first got together and he started calling me “Baby” my heart was all aflutter. I don’t even like Baby as a pet name, it’s unimaginative and inherently infantilizing. Yet, there is also an intimacy, and an air of protectiveness, and more than that, the knowledge that he didn’t call anyone else Baby. That was enough for me to be absolutely giddy about it every time.
I liked it a little better when he’d call me, “Sweetheart,” though. The heart is what matters and I liked thinking he was thinking of mine. Also, there’s an old love song, “Let Me Call You Sweetheart” that it always put instantly into my thoughts. The first time he called me Sweetheart my feet didn’t touch the ground for a week.
It was never really about the name itself, it was that it was special. I felt special because That Man didn’t talk to anyone else that way. Eventually, he seemed to settle on a nickname that only a few other people call me. It’s not inherently romantic, but there was an intimacy to it being so inner circle and not something most friends, or any coworkers, call me. It still reminded me that we were special to each other.
Life is a messy thing that refuses to color within the lines. I set out to write a travel blog about my study abroad experience. Only a few weeks into my trip, determined to turn from grief to gratitude, I began to reframe it as a love story. This was going to be the story of how I went to Portugal only to realize that the real treasure was back home in California.
Then I found out that my ex had been cheating on me, maybe for most, or all, of… maybe since before… my trip? Either way, my story became one of there-and-back-again. From Berkeley to Portugal, and back again. From friends to a couple, and back again. The story had its boundaries, like I had my boundaries, but That Man had to go crashing through them.
He had been my Work Bestie for so long. He was the person I could talk to without having to go into the backstory because he already knew all of my backstories. Even when I didn’t want to stay friends, I needed to stay friends. When he was my significant other I told him things I wouldn’t tell to even close friends. There are things that aren’t my business to tell, but that still impact me. There are conversations that you have with a romantic partner that you just wouldn’t have with anyone else, well, at least I do.
I used to love it when he’d call me late at night, his voice deep and sleepy. Sometimes we’d talk until he fell asleep without even hanging up. It was almost like going to bed cuddled together, while we were physically hundreds of miles apart. I thought those late night calls were so sweet. He was the last thing I thought of at night, too. Late night texts after the break up hit very differently.
I had to deal with him texting, “I miss you,” as he built something with someone else. Yes, I missed him, too, but he didn’t have the right to tell me that. Not when he chose to cheat on me, chose to leave me for someone else. Not when I’d been planning to move closer to him and then he threw it all away. I didn’t want to lose our friendship, but the way things went down hurt so much more than it had to.
The late night “you up?” texts, and calling me by my nickname like I was still his boo, made it hurt more. Yeah, I had those feelings too, but I wasn’t seeing someone else. I didn’t end our relationship. I don’t want to flirt with the guy who cheated on me.
In what world was it fair that he should break my heart and make me the one responsible for keeping appropriate boundaries between us? I get that hundreds of miles apart, we couldn’t more than flirt, but we had way too much history for flirting to be appropriate if we were going to be friends.
I had to do the mental calculations whenever I got a late night text. If it was the Sunday after a workshop, a long drive home, maybe he needed someone to help him stay awake. That’s a friend thing. If it was late at night on a random Tuesday though, I’d try to figure out from the preview if it was something urgent. Sometimes it was fine, normal friend stuff, sometimes it wasn’t. Eventually, I just set his ringtone to silence, then I wouldn’t see the message until morning.
Calling me from bed used to seem so sweet. After the breakup it just gave horny. That’s not an appropriate way to conduct yourself if you’re in a relationship. I don’t owe Side Chick anything, but I couldn’t help but wonder… Was he talking to other women like this when he and I were together? I mean, even before her?
Calling me by familiar nicknames, calling me Baby, it just felt gross. When we were together, it reminded me that I was special. I felt courted. After the breakup, he’d call me Baby and I’d cringe. We weren’t building towards anything romantic. I just wanted him to treat me like his other friends, his other colleagues. Leaving me voice messages, purring my full name sexily wasn’t cute from the guy who dumped me.
Flirting isn’t fun when it’s paired with cheating, when I’m sure he was calling her Baby, too. He had mostly called me Baby in the beginning. I thought it had phased out because he found a nickname he liked better. Now I wonder if it’s just a term of endearment he falls back on so he doesn’t have to keep our names straight.
I know he moved around a lot growing up. It makes sense that he has all these little hacks for making superficial connections with people quickly. I thought they were harmless, friendly. As someone with social anxiety, I admired his efforts to put others at ease. It wasn’t until after we broke up that it began to look like manipulation. I began to feel very played by someone I never took to be a player.
Somehow, That Man had managed to simultaneously play it off like we were never in a relationship, and like we had never broken up. He was still reaching out to me if he was lonely, bored, horny. He didn’t have to flirt for favors. I will send a second copy of the schedule to any instructor who asks me for one. I like being helpful. They don’t have to sleep with me to get admin documents. Seriously, I prefer that they don’t.
There was no advantage to flirting with me. After the breakup it only caused me pain and made me suspect that Side Chick might not have been the first infidelity. I didn’t want him to ignore me, but I didn’t want him to flirt with me either. More than anything, I just wanted my friend to be my friend.
Don’t call me baby
Voice of the Beehive
When she is waiting in the car
It took so long to get this far
Don’t call me baby
Don’t Call Me Baby
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