My sugar daddy, John, was waiting years to develop a piece of land he owned to build property. His plans had finally been approved and it seemed everything was going to work out. I was hoping he’d unwind a bit after getting the good news, but I was wrong.
That summer, his son came out to visit again, and this time, I got a chance to actually spend time with him. When John was on site barking at everyone, his son and I stayed clear of that.
At that point, John and I were about one year into our relationship and he was not afraid to now spend his money. The monetary aspect of us was great, and if that was all there was to a relationship, I would have had no complaints. But as a person, he was an asshole. He was disrespectful and we had many fights about the way he spoke to me in front of other people.
I remember him telling his son that I was his nanny, although I know his son knew better. But with all the things John did, I forgave him and decided I was going to try my hardest to make it work. He was not with his wife in any real way, so in my eyes, I was his main woman. I was the one that went to the family gatherings, I was the one that went to the business meetings, and I was the one who went to anything that had to do with representing him.
He was ungrateful and nothing was good enough, including me, and when I finally realized that, I started to pull back. I would go days without calling him and I would just avoid him. He was turning me into an ugly person—I had begun to swear a lot and I didn’t like it. I was getting angry easily and it was all because of him.
There were many times when I would beg him to treat me differently so that we could work, and he’d just ignore me. One night after closing my store, I remember saying to him, “You’re going to regret the way you have treated me, because I am going to move on. But I am going to wait until I know you need me, so I can bring you to your knees.”
My threat fell on deaf ears and as many times as I broke up with him, he was at my gate honking his horn and screaming my name. I lived in a quiet, peaceful neighborhood and he would drive down at full speed and screech his tires at the gate. Then he would bang on my fence and all my neighbors would peek over to see what the commotion was about. If I didn’t come out to meet him, it would go on for hours with him leaving the worst messages imaginable on my voicemail.
Our relationship had started out odd, and it continued being odd; I’m sure he couldn’t make sense of it either, but he had just gotten comfortable with the fact that I was around and I was the one he was not able to control. He realized I didn’t need him and that I used fire with fire. His mom once told me, “Isabella, he’s my son, but I will tell you this if you want him to stick around, you better have some backbone or he will walk all over you and then leave you.”
I knew I needed to get out of this toxic relationship, but something kept pulling me back—until the incident that finally pushed me over the edge…