AWWWRIGHT darlin'? Apologies if I've offended you there, but even though we've never met it's the sort of friendly greeting I throw around as liberally as I spray perfume.

I mean no harm by it – it's not a veiled sexual innuendo, a ham-fisted attempt to contrive a false closeness between us or an attempt by me to exert dominance over you. It's a simple term of endearment.

Ever since Brighton bus drivers were recently banned from calling their passengers 'babe', 'love' or 'darling' after a passenger complained that she felt it was "demeaning", debate has raged.

Now, of course this complainant – I hesitate to say 'this woman' or 'this lady' for fear of inadvertently triggering another titular landmine – has every right to (a) feel offended by this term if it offends her and (b) bring it to the bus company's attention, and I can understand why the bus company felt it had to act after receiving her complaint.

But for every person who feels offended or demeaned by such language, there's another in the queue behind them who feels completely the opposite.

And the former has now spoilt the fun for the latter.

I don't want to live in a monotone world where people call me 'ms'.

For the record, I absolutely abhor the term 'ms'. I'm not married so I'm not a 'mrs', and I'm perfectly comfortable with the word 'miss' and its inherent 'mademoiselle'-style sass, so much so that my Twitter name is @MissFeeley.

I'm not so insecure or hung up on out-of-date gender politics that I feel the need for my title to disguise my marital status.

I don't want to live in a robotic world with a carpet of eggshells, and it brightens my day when someone I've never met before is genuinely bubbling over with friendliness.

For the few seconds it takes to buy a paper or a pint of milk, get on a bus or into a taxi or buy a cinema ticket, that quick transaction can be cold and wordless or warm and friendly. Which would you choose?

I also think it's an incredibly important expression of local identity. Strangers have called me "queen" in Liverpool, "arrr kid" in Manchester, "bab" in Birmingham, "duck" in Yorkshire, "pet" in Newcastle, "my 'ansum" in Cornwall, "doll" in Scotland, "schweedart" in London and – of course – "my love", "my lover" and "babber" in dear old Brizzle.

Not only do I not object in the slightest to these names, I think it's great that each area has its own vernacular and people all over the country called me these things to make me feel welcome in their own local way.

How boring would it be if we all talked the same way?

Humour, warmth and friendliness oil the wheels of daily life. Take that away, and what are we left with?

Cultural expression and human interaction aside, I must confess that one of the reasons why I often call people 'darling', 'mate' and 'babe' is to cover up the fact that sometimes my mind goes blank when I bump into someone I haven't seen for ages.

Sorry, babe.