The $8,000 Mistake My Sugar Daddy Made Trying to Make Me Commit: Part 2

Instead of ask­ing me to move in with him, Patrick told me that he had met with a real­tor and had already made an offer on a condo here. The condo was mine if I wanted it. It was just for me, not for the both of us. I was speech­less. Then I was fright­ened. Then I was angry.

I knew he wanted to put me in some lit­tle nest where the temp­ta­tions of the big city weren’t so close. This was clearly about pos­ses­sive­ness and con­trol, masked behind the illu­sions of love and good inten­tions, but con­trol nonethe­less. I felt like he was more inter­ested in stop­ping me from leav­ing him than he was in pro­vid­ing for me, not that I needed him to.

I made it very clear that I was not inter­ested in liv­ing here—neither with him nor alone. I had worked too hard to make my way to Chicago, and besides, I needed ready access to the air­port since I was fly­ing in and out of the city a cou­ple times a week for my job. Need­less to say Patrick was hurt. He tried every argu­ment, includ­ing what a good invest­ment this would be and the title would be in my name only. On that score he was correct—I would have made a lot of money by tak­ing the real estate and later sell­ing it.

But it was out of the ques­tion for me at that time. I wanted to run away from the whole scene and he knew that he was close to los­ing me at that point, so he backed down. He also lost his earnest money—a tidy lit­tle sum of $8,000.00.

We had din­ner at a lit­tle French seafood bistro and I ordered escar­got as an appe­tizer, an expen­sive glass of cham­pagne, sea bass, and a won­der­ful lob­ster. It was my revenge, my way of gain­ing con­trol back. He didn’t bat an eye.

After din­ner, we went back to my apart­ment for dessert—let’s just say I gave him every­thing off my menu, and he was happy, at last.