What's Really is Dating a Rich Sugar Daddy
When Kathy, my best childhood friend suddenly quipped that she wanted a sugar daddy, I was confused. I didn’t know whether to join her in the hunt or simply blow open my secret former life with an Italian sugar daddy. Like shooting before taking aim, I blurted it out, “Do you know how it feels dating a sugar daddy?” Her blank stare simply dared me on.
When my Italian sugar daddy, an upscale banker whose parents had immigrated to the US, first saw me, he was (in his words) awestruck! I hadn’t noticed the huge man approaching. I first met with stale onion stench on his breath before I ever had the chance to look at him. What followed afterward shook me down to the core. The man simply asked me, more like a contemporary Italian Mafioso, if I was interested in a damn rich sugar daddy!
Months later, I would look at myself in the mirror, wonder and curse whoever made the first dollar bill! I had given into a man more than twice my age and whose fat bank accounts were taking me to whirls around the wild, mad world. We were traveling around the world in pure bliss. The little silent voice at the back of my head, however, kept remind me to grow guts because I was expendable. In less than a fortnight after we had met, I had learned, albeit too quickly for my previous naivety, that such men only sought what their wives couldn’t give them. Anything conventional would be too ‘wifely,' I suppose. I was learning the art.
Looking at Kathy for approval to proceed, I kept telling her my experiences dating a sugar daddy. He would curse in Italian every time I wore strong perfume or makeup that stuck to his chubby face. During such times, he would never go home. Moreover, I had learned that whenever Zambrano (Most assuredly not his real name) promised me anything, I would only but drop subtle hints to remind him. Openly reminding him, he said, was like perpetually pulling him up by the roots to check on his progress.
He was increasingly getting naughtier (perverse perhaps!) with requests regarding what to put on when he was around. Like the birch tree, however, he would sway and get to too many specifics that at the end of the day, he was asking for nothing specific! In the meantime, he expected me to maintain my antics of appreciating even nothing while he gloried in self-pontification. I guess he did such things because inwardly, he was a freaked out freckled senior man at home and would raise no more than an apologetic eye to a stern aging wife.
Dating a rich sugar daddy, however, sweet and memorable the experiences involved, often ends without a hint. Like an eagle, he will soon find something (Or is it someone!) prettier and send you headfirst to his elaborate junkyard. The dream will be over, and the leftovers will be nothing but the thought of thinking how to push the smelly fat old man out of your head with shrieks of anger, regret and an infection or two.