I’m bored with boys. Toxic or not. It’s time to expand my range of field. And when you want someone successful and solvent, where should you go shopping?
Why Sugardaddy.com of course. Please hold your incredulity. Yes. This site is still going strong, ten years after I originally visited it, in the search for someone who would save me. A decade on, and I don’t need saving, I’ve done that pretty well myself, but would I like to meet someone successful, intelligent and charismatic. (Preferably with a sense of humour, but to be honest, if they have managed to get some way forward in life, I kind of assume they will have.)
Yes, I’ve browsed past these profiles before. I met my ex-fiancé here, so I know there are some genuine men who showcase their achievements, and some honest women. But life is too short not to be me so this time I won’t be pulling any punches. I’m not mutton dressing up as lamb. I’m steak, maybe even sirloin.
I’m not embarrassed to put myself into an arena mostly populated with young, busty, underdressed women looking for an arrangement or flirting with prostitution, because quite simply, I’m not. I’m me. The funny thing is most of them seem to think themselves not part of that ‘game’.
“So dinner was going well,” my telephone initial date confides.
“And then, halfway through, she asks me if I am going home afterwards.”
I know what’s coming, but I don’t mind this playing out for my entertainment, so I make the appropriate grunts.
“I say yes, and then she says, ‘Well if you pay me £200 I will come back with you and sleep with you.”
I try not to guffaw with laughter at this. We have early on this conversation established this man has 3 Porsches, the fact this girl thought he even had to pay for sex is ridiculous, but hey ho.
“And I said, ‘When did you become a hooker?’ She was shocked. ‘What do you mean?’ she said.
I repeated myself. ‘When did you become an escort?’
‘I’m not a hooker!’ she said and she was shocked.”
He had proceeded to explain to her how the escort world worked, and she had refused to acknowledge her position, instead of saying that what she was charging was for was ‘expenses’, her nails, her outfit…
“So I said, well, and what if I said I wasn’t going to pay you? Would you still come back and sleep with me?’, and she said no!”
“Oh dear,” I say in a commiserating tone of voice. Thankful he can’t see my face.
This isn’t an unusual story, and I do feel for this unknown man, his naivety and hers. In a world of so many blurred lines, when it comes to modern relationships, if you are older than 29, it’s best to cut the crap and be upfront and honest about who you are and what you want.
Three days ago I spoke to ‘Marcus, ‘six businesses in his portfolio’ Marcus, who said he was upfront about what he wanted and liked in his life.
“I can’t bare rudeness,” I said bluntly, already beginning to feel a little uneasy.
“No, not rude, I just know what I want, and then I go and get it.”
“Oh dear,” I thought silently, “Oh dear”.
“So what was the best sex you had recently and why?” he quizzed me, and like a rabbit caught in headlights I fell into his ready-made trap.
“It was with a boy” I start hesitantly, “and I’m done with boys now” I continue.
“He was intelligent and ticked a lot of boxes for me, and there was just a lot of compatibility” I continue with a reasonable amount of confidence.
“No, no!” he exclaims. “What made it great sex?”
“Compatibility” I reply, incredulous that someone I’ve never met before could be so crude and crass.
Jesus. Some people.
He goes onto to ask what I am into.
“Are you a handbag or a shoe girl? What do you like to spend your money on”.
By this point I have given up with any effort, I might have been subconsciously making from the point I found out this man was ‘comfortably off’.
“To be frank, any money I’ve ever earned I have reinvested back into myself and my personal projects. I don’t go and spend money on frivolous, things like that. I wear my clothes until they fall apart, as I believe we live in an era where people don’t appreciate the clothes they have and it’s bad for the environment to spend, spend, spend… without appreciating the human cost.”
I’ve lost him now. He is backing away. Him, with his “Vineyards in Sonoma’, he brought to ‘help some friends’. A good thing as really very few wineries turns a profit. His ‘Production Company’, and something else to do with cars. He thinks I need to ‘lighten up’ and I should lose the overlong ‘backstory.’
In all honesty, when he started to say, in answer to had he has ever been married, ‘Well, I don’t believe we live in the same world as our parents did’ I could tell he wasn’t ‘a good ‘un’.
There are rich people in this world, and there are arrogant, self-absorbed rich people, and as much I am trying to find an escape from my nightmare, (the forced exodus from the home counties) I’m too old to pretend to be something I’m not.
I wouldn’t mind going to the Westcountry if I was going to live in an artists cottage, with flame retardant thatch, and exposed oak beams that reek of history that looked out to the sea. Or even better, some modern pieces of stylish, whitewashed, architecture with big glass windows, and a space for my home gym, art studio and a massive industrial kitchen for my pop up restaurant catering operation to be held. But, instead, I will have two options. A shed, and no, it’s not a George Clark, ‘Amazing Spaces shed’ that has no plumbing or draft proofing, and comes with a view of a cliff wall that has knotweed. Or, not much better, and possibly more traumatic, the second bedroom in my parent’s mico cottage, where to move anywhere is a chess game of moving human pieces, with it’s paper thin walls, sun and stars wallpaper, that contrasts nicely with the fire engine red carpet. The latter was my early efforts at risk avoidance as Ribena stains wouldn’t show, but now this carpet is so dominant in such a small space it positively demands the attention of the eye, and I despair of such a room becoming my future home.
I’ve found good men on this site before. Interesting dynamic individuals, who have pushed themselves, and prospered, so I know it can be done. But last time, I was ready to fall in love with anyone, (I can, I’m like that, it’s not hard) and this time I’m not. I’m open to possibility, but I know unless there is chemistry, and it’s actual real love, it will fail before it’s even begun.
There are many women who can marry for money. Who doesn’t care who shags them senseless. Many women who don’t mind, fat, heavy, sweaty middle-aged men squishing them as they thrust hard and deep again and again. But I do.
Unfortunately, or maybe not, I’m fussy and if there isn’t chemistry nothing will be, but you have to be in the sea to catch a fish. And I’m undoubtedly fishing.