“So, what do you, you know, enjoy?”
“Um, Netflix.”
I glanced at him across the small table, uncertain about what else to say. I understood the question, of course. Here I was, a thirty-one-year-old woman on a date with a man who was forty years older, with five hundred dollars in cash tucked away in my purse. I was aware of his intentions, yet I still felt taken aback.
We had established payment and boundaries beforehand. I had clearly stated that anything sexual was off-limits. Throughout the evening, he kept insisting that “he expected nothing but my company.”
Everything seemed straightforward. Right?
The bartender must have sensed my discomfort because he quickly approached us. I ordered water instead of a Jack and Coke, a choice driven by my unease. My date noticed.
“I’m sorry, I really don’t expect anything,” he tried to reassure me, “I just thought you might want a few drinks and then, I don’t know, play.”
Play. The images that rushed into my mind were far from innocent. I felt a wave of nausea. For a brief moment, I envisioned myself vomiting all over the table.
I could feel the bartender’s pitying gaze from the other side of the bar. Was this really supposed to be so humiliating?
Taking a deep breath, I replied firmly, “I don’t think so. We had an agreement.”
“Yes,” he countered, “and I paid you $500. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to be a Sugar Baby.”
He had a point. I could have turned him down when we met. He had spotted me in the bar, where I work as a dealer. That night was no different.
When I noticed him watching me, I could have ignored him. When he approached me to play, I could have been cold. When he blatantly stared at my chest, I could have buttoned my shirt more. When he feigned interest in my life, I could have dismissed him. When he asked if I was comfortable with older men, I could have responded differently, but what I said was, “That depends.”
I don’t know why I said that. My divorce was recent, and summer in North Dakota meant everyone was out having fun. Work had been slow, and I needed the cash.
I had heard of other Sugar Babies who managed to earn money without crossing any lines. $500 for pleasant conversation? Seemed like a no-brainer. I had envisioned a different outcome, and now I was facing the reality that I couldn’t be a Sugar Baby. Some women exude sexuality, a trait I genuinely admire. Not me. I was awkward and in an even more awkward situation. If I said I wasn’t disappointed, I’d be lying.
I needed an escape. I pulled out my phone, pretending to scroll for a notification while I arranged for a Lyft. I scrambled to find a believable excuse to leave.
“Oh, no,” I said, putting on my best frown. “I have to head home early. My sitter needs me to pick up my dog before she goes to sleep. Her cut-off is at eleven, so…”
I locked eyes with him, hoping he would buy it. Judging by his slow nod and the way his gaze fell to the table, he didn’t.
My phone chimed, signaling a real notification this time. Your driver is ten minutes away! I sipped my water and tried to steer the conversation again. One thing I pride myself on is being easy to talk to; I thought that was what I was getting paid for.
He seemed to have lost his composure, and I felt a twinge of sympathy. He had been a perfect gentleman until that night. Perhaps I had misjudged him, and he was just nervous. We had another date scheduled for the following day, so I tried to salvage what could be a great afternoon and an extra $500.
“So, movies tomorrow? We’re seeing The Kitchen, right? I love horror.”
“You know, when I saw you, I thought you had the prettiest mouth.”
Oh, no. Your driver is five minutes away!
My eyes flitted past the uneasy bartender to the door. I wondered if I could make a run for it and meet the driver halfway.
He sensed my growing anxiety and, in a moment of desperation, reached out to touch one of my tattoos on my forearm. I recoiled as if it burned.
“Those are pretty. You sure I can’t persuade you to let me see the rest?”
I was done. I could hitchhike if I had to. I stood up and thanked him for the evening, cursing myself for even thinking he deserved a shred of courtesy.
As I exited, relieved to recognize my Lyft driver from a previous ride, I felt a tug on my hand. In an instant, his hand was on the small of my back, pulling me toward him. Just like that, we collided, and his tongue invaded my mouth.
You should know something: this is a public admission of one of the most mortifying and degrading experiences I’ve ever endured.
I wish I could craft a narrative featuring someone else to shield my shame. I wish I could say I emerged empowered and that I had put him in his place. Or perhaps I could have been like those cunning women who manipulate the situation to their advantage.
When I imagined scenarios like this, I always envisioned walking away feeling strong. Instead, I froze.
Did I deserve this? Had I led him on in some way? I didn’t think so; we had a clear agreement.
Once he had his fill, he let me go, and I rushed into the car, slamming the door behind me. I glanced up at the rear-view mirror, my lipstick smeared, eyes brimming with tears.
“Well, I can never go back to that bar again,” I joked, but the tears quickly overwhelmed me. I sobbed quietly, a complete stranger my only company. He said nothing, only showing his support by stopping at a McDonald’s to buy me a McFlurry. Five stars for that.
My tears had mostly subsided, save for the occasional sniffle, when a text illuminated my phone. It was from him: No movie tomorrow. Doctor called in sick. I have to go back and cover for him. You are a beautiful and intelligent young lady.
Upon arriving home, I replied to the man who had betrayed my trust and made me feel small in the best way I knew how: I blocked his number.
I realized I owed him nothing, never did. I turned on my TV, and with a smile, I queued up Netflix. I wasn’t lying when I said I liked Netflix.
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Summary:
This narrative recounts a woman’s distressing experience as a Sugar Baby, highlighting the discomfort of being pursued by an older man despite clear boundaries. The story explores themes of vulnerability, self-worth, and the challenges of navigating modern dating dynamics. Ultimately, the protagonist learns to reclaim her sense of agency and seeks solace in familiar comforts like Netflix.