I Was a Sugar Baby—and I Hated It

Another guest post from The Topless Therapist

I was a kept woman once.

And I was bored out of my fucking mind.

It was late 2007, early 2008. I had just ended a five-year relationship that was pretty serious. I was heartbroken.

I was wallowing in my sorrow at my mom’s house when she said:

“Well, why don’t you go on SugarDaddyForMe? I saw it on Sally Jesse Raphael.”

My mom always did have a knack for brilliant career ideas.

I gave it some thought and then said, “Yeah, why not?” I sat down at the computer in her house and made my profile.

The website was exactly what you’d think it was—sugar daddies looking for sugar babies, and vice versa. There were a lot of one-night or one-time rendezvous seekers, so to speak. That wasn’t what I was looking for.

I wanted to be kept.
Or at least, I thought I did.

It wasn’t long before an older man named George reached out to me. We chatted back and forth for a few weeks. He was looking for exactly what I was looking for—more of a long-term relationship. No other strings attached. Someone to take care of. Someone to give him company.

It sounded like a great deal. So I flew out to Atlanta to meet him.

He was a single father to two adult children—a son and a daughter. A widower. He ran his own aviation company. And he was looking for someone to spend time with.

I was looking for a way out of the club.

On our first evening, he admitted he had done a background check on me. He knew everything about me. I wasn’t a criminal or a felon—but he knew I was a dancer. He didn’t have a problem with it. He understood the reasons why.

And hell, at that point, if you’re on SugarDaddyForMe looking for a date, you can’t be that judgmental now, can you?

We actually got along quite well.

But at the time, I wasn’t emotionally mature enough to really appreciate him or understand what he needed. He was a great man—but he was lonely and broken. And I wasn’t at the peak of my topless therapist mindset yet.

I found myself pulling away. And honestly, I was a little bit embarrassed being out in public with him.
I would never be like that now.

The relationship lasted about three months, where he paid all of my bills—and then some. I flew to Atlanta a few times to see him.

But I have to say: I was bored out of my fucking mind.

I felt like I was using this man—which, honestly, I was.

I felt disgusting.

And I felt anxious.

Getting a five-thousand-dollar deposit into your bank account every month with virtually no effort might sound like a dream situation.

But it wasn’t.

Not for me, anyway.

I needed to make my own money.

This technically was making money, right?

But no. It wasn’t.

If I had been emotionally available to him and gave him the comfort he needed, I think I would’ve felt better about it. But in my heart, I knew I couldn’t keep taking his money.

And honestly, I wanted things on my terms.
I wanted to make my own money again—in the way I was used to.

So I ended the relationship.

He has since lost his son—I believe to cancer.
And I am so very sorry about that. He truly was an amazing human being.

If I could talk to him again, I’d want him to know this:

Thank you.
Thank you for helping get my mind off that heartbreak. For the generosity. For giving me something to focus on when I needed a break from myself.

You didn’t owe me that. But you gave it anyway.
And I hope you’ve found love again.

-LKN