It is so wonderful to be called dear.
If it’s said heartfelt. With ease.
There is a young hipster waiter in San Francisco in the Mission District who works at a hip Vietnamese restaurant, who always calls his customers, “My Dear.”
“My dear, are you all right? Do you need more water?”
“My dear! Your pho is gonna be coming out soon.”
Of course, there is another way to say this, with that husky voice by a man almost 4 decades older than the waiter lad.