Oh now, I've never cared what other people have called me--and yes, they've called me "honey" or "dear" or "sweetie" or "cutie" before, believe it or not, in addition to some less-flattering names. That's just talk, no harm done.
But before anybody under the age of 80 decides to tackle me as if we're supposed to be making out right then and there, I need to know their name, address, family background, place of employment, and at least ten character references.
Otherwise, they're likely to find they jumped on top of a 176-pound iceburg.
Too bad.