Note: This article features frank discussions of sexuality and may be NSFW.
I have friends who have been gifted thousands of dollars worth of shoes, purses, clothes, jewelry, cars, and condos from the men they are dating. Most of my friends make a living working jobs as models, playmates or sugar babies.
That’s right, being a sugar baby is a job, and it’s not an easy one. One of my friends just told me about having to wipe her sugar daddy‘s ass because she gets a $5k monthly allowance from him and felt obligated.
You may think that sugar babies are no different than prostitutes.
Wrong. Being a prostitute is easier. It’s a one-time job: make the guy finish and go home. When you’re a sugar baby, there’s a whole relationship involved. You’re getting paid for your companionship, as well as your skills. Not all sugar daddies are gross. Some of my girlfriends get taken care of by totally decent looking dudes.
I consider myself a bit of a sugar daddy expert. So how did I not know about a sugar daddy convention taking place in my own backyard?
This past weekend, SeekingArrangement, an online “dating” site connecting sugar daddies with sugar babies, held a masquerade party/sugar daddy convention. Other than the masks, it sounded no different than any other party in Hollywood. I’m friends with sugar babies who don’t even know they’re sugar babies. I thought for sure I’d see a bunch of people I knew at this event.
I didn’t run into one person I knew at this event and after going I know why.
This party was for beginners that didn’t know any better. They were new to the game, sugar baby preemies, and had no idea what the rules were or how to play it.
The night’s mission was obvious: I had to help these people.
It was going to be a long night and vodka was definitely going to be my wingman.
Flash forward to two shots later, or three if you count the one I accidentally flung across the bar while trying to point out the chocolate fountain to the middle-aged blonde woman I met in the bathroom after asking me to help her adjust her Spanx. She told me she came to the party because she wanted to “surround herself with power players.”
After an hour of telling blonde Spanx lady that she was wasting her time here, a man, probably in his 50s, shyly approached me from across the room.
He waited for me to acknowledge him and then asked where I was from, how tall I was, and what I was drinking. I answered him, but he couldn’t hear me ”over the loud music.” He had “divorcee” written all over him.
This man didn’t flinch when I asked him what he did for a living, what he’s looking for in a woman, and how many vacation homes he had. He told me he worked in finance, and he prefers brunettes over “insecure blondes.” His ex-wife was a blonde, he said. He told me he thinks it says a lot about a woman when she has to dye her hair blonde. Then he showed me a bird’s eye view of his beachfront mansion on his phone using Google Earth.
We talked for a while, and he told me that he ended up joining SeekingArrangement.com after the women he met off of the other dating sites were always looking for something too serious.
He just wanted to have fun and date women who were satisfied being taken care of without wanting a relationship. He asked me what kind of guys I typically date. I told him I like men with private planes. My soulmate has a private plane and lives in a house that has a walk-in closet big enough to get lost in and a bathtub big enough to drown in. He asked if he could find me on Facebook since I wasn’t a member of the SeekingArrangement website. I told him Facebook was lame and to follow me on Instagram.
When he said he didn’t have an Instagram account, I knew right then I was brought into his life for a reason.
This poor guy had no idea what he’s been missing out on. I told him he absolutely had to be on Instagram. A sugar daddy without an Instagram is the equivalent of a ship without a sail, or in his case, a yacht without an engine. I helped him set up an account and sent him on his way. Then I had another shot.
I met a brunette woman who worked as a Lyft driver. She was in her early 40s and wore red satin gloves she bought at Party City. “They were only 5 bucks,” she said.