The dating? Hmmm. Not going great. Truth be told though that online dating was as much of a pastime for me as was hanging out with my friends which were few and far between in this city a couple of years ago. Was I seeking friendship via that route more than a relationship? Possibly. At any rate, if I had the really great circle of friends that I seem to have stumbled across over the last couple of months back in the pre-Lava days, I would hedge my bets that I would never have gone on. Shocking, I know.
But meet then just now I did (and yes, there are tall men in the picture… and tall British men in the picture… and somewhat tall British women… and the usual suspects that have been a part of the Bea scene for ages… there are just more… and they all seem to get along splendidly) and online I remain, but not for any other reason besides the fact that I get bored at home alone at night during the week.
Enter “Sugar Daddy.” The other day I received an email from a fellow asking if I would be interested in a sugar daddy type of arrangement. It was interesting. I mean, who hasn’t joked about wanting a sugar daddy or mamma? I know I have. And frequently. Would I ever go through with it? I actually never imagined that I would ever be faced with that decision.
I had always thought that “sugar children” belonged to the world of the beautiful people. You know, those women… they are tall and blond. They have big boobs and high pitched voices. They wear high heels and short skirts. They don’t drink beer. Besides the boobs, which are only big right now because of the beer (I will not get into the other thongs that are big right now due to beer because that would take too long), I kind of don't fit that mould. Besides those folk, who would ever think that would be a possibility? More importantly, who would make that decision to sell their soul… or body… for money?
Well I’ll tell you… It’s temping. For the truth of the matter is that while I work at an organization that invokes the response of “Ooh… that must be amazing. You are so lucky. How’d you score that?”, it kind of is not all it is cracked up to be. To start with, it pays shite, so I always find myself having to choose between either doing fun things like ski trips, concerts and the like or, say… paying rent. Stupid rent.
Blah, blah, blah… looking for a new job… blah, blah, blah…
“Also if you would be interested in a sugar daddy style situation please let me know, and no it doesnt have to be just about sex! :) (Really hope that doesnt offend you)”
Yes, the lack of apostrophes offended my sensibilities, but I did laugh quite heartily when I read it.
But could I?
It is not as if I have never dated men with disposable income, though they seemed to be few and far between. The Former-PNB despite working about 20 minutes a week, goddess bless him, is quite well to do. Did I ever reap the benefits of that? Well, besides the fact that the boy keeps a healthily stocked liquor cabinet… No. Sadly, he is a proud card carrying member of the “Will avoid spending money whenever I can” Club (PNB… LOVE YOUUUUUU, Bea says in a Peter Griffin voice). It never bothered me one iota… and I never felt like I was trading fancy dinners out etc… for sex. Other than the fact that I felt somewhat silly when he wasn’t interested in me in any serious fashion, I left the whatever it was we had with my dignity in tact… although I did become a mega bitch afterwards for a few months… and I drunk dialed him one night while going home one night in a cab. I’m not sure what I was thinking other than that he lived right down the street from where I was at the time and in my drunken state it just seemed logical that I could crash there. But about a block later I had completely forgotten… what can I say… I’m fickle (and was really drunk)…
Anyway… back to the point…
I may be lonely… I may be horny… but I definitely deserve better than to be someone’s kept woman…
God damn morals… I really wanted those Toronto FC season’s tickets!!!