“I am the kind of girl that does yoga to classic French jazz in polka dot underwear, contemplates the secrets of the Universe over a frothy cappuccino, and dreams of romantic walks around Paris arm in arm with my man. If you are ready for an alternative woman with creative intelligence, emotional maturity and sex appeal oozing from her soul then you have found your girl. I’ve never been in an arrangement before. I hope to find a long lasting connection with a sophisticated, open minded and kind hearted gentleman who will treat me like a Queen. I will nurture and adore you while you assist me in accomplishing my dreams.” SUGARBABE #428461
He winked at me again. The Euro Guy. “Never contact them first,” she tells me. “Let them come to you.” Apparently SHE is the expert. No proof in her bank account as of yet. I am curious. I send him a message. “Ever make it to LA?” He writes back immediately. Includes an email address. “I’ll send you some photos from my travels.” Boom. Crystal clear blue waters. White sand beaches. Quaint wharf towns. All taken off the bow of his yacht anchored in the Mediterranean. Dream. Come. True. We continue to write back and forth. My first pen pal. “Can I fly you to the Caribbean the day after tomorrow? We set sail on Sunday.” It is Christmas. I am staying with my family this week. I promised my Mom I’d help her bake pumpkin pie. “Tempting. Perhaps after the New Year.” I can’t stop looking at those photos. Luxury. Paradise. Romance. And MONEY!
“It is a business deal,” she says. Little Miss Expert. “These are business men,” she says. I’m helping her choose what bikini to bring on her Caribbean yacht adventure with her Sugar Daddy. “Be specific. Set it up like a business proposal you would send to an investor.” I switch my financial requirements to: $5000-$10,000 a month. I request assistance to help me launch my writing project and artistic career. Executive Summary available upon request. Passport valid. Drug and disease free. Available to meet once a week plus a monthly weekend travel adventure. “Please be single.” It is one thing to persuade myself into being a girlfriend for hire. But a mistress? It is against my morals.
One of the benefits of a Premier Membership is I can see who is stalking me. A handsome in my town has been checking me out! I’m not sure how I missed him in my search? I send him a letter. And he writes back. I check the rest of his photos. Super hot! I’m jumping on this. We have a phone date. He sounds cool until he ends with a slimy question. “Will you be wearing that lingerie I see in your photo on our date?” He is suggesting we met at Starbucks for christ’s sake. Really? We meet anyways. He splurges on my soy chai latte. We talk. He tells me about all the women he is dating, vanilla style. Brags that he is so fly that he doesn’t need to pay for a girlfriend. Yet he mentions a trip to Paris he’d like to take me on this summer. I still give him my valued attention while I sip my latte and tell him about my music career. He asks if I wear lingerie on stage and if I take it off. Instant slimy vibes again. I say it is time to go. He walks me back to my car and sticks his tongue down my throat. I’m grossed out. I tell him kindly that I am seeking a real Daddy who can afford me. I have enough vanilla boyfriends, thank you. What a douche.
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