What My Rich Older Man’s Co-Workers Taught Me About Dating a Sugar Daddy

As time marched on, my older man, Marco, and I began attend­ing more and more events together. Hav­ing a rebut­tal to the dreaded “dad” insinuation—as in peo­ple think­ing he was my father—was always off the cuff, except when it came to his work. Much to my sur­prise, he told his col­leagues the truth—that I was his girl­friend and we lived together. In his opin­ion, this ruined a work friend­ship or two and pos­si­bly gave him a bit of a rep­u­ta­tion. He didn’t have to do that for me, but it was impor­tant to him and, frankly, he “didn’t care” at the time. His work was the one place he felt it was best to be honest.

We attended a final sum­mer work pic­nic together that was extremely awk­ward. The wives of Marco’s co-workers sneered at me with dis­gust. All of them knew our age dif­fer­ence; Marco was touted as a “play­boy” hav­ing a “midlife cri­sis.” To them, I was a lit­tle girl and he was a dis­gust­ing old man tak­ing advan­tage of me. They couldn’t imag­ine hav­ing sex with an older man when they were my age; they couldn’t put their soci­etal judg­ment aside for a moment and just look at the sit­u­a­tion with an open mind. Despite it being my deci­sion to pur­sue Marco, they just refused to try understanding.

Not only did they not under­stand it, they did not want me any­where near their hus­bands. One wife specif­i­cally pulled me to the side and let me know quite frankly that I wasn’t wel­come at this type of work event, or any work event her hus­band attended, adding that it made every­one uncom­fort­able and she was watch­ing me to make sure I didn’t get close to or try to steal her hus­band. Marco was furi­ous, but the man this woman was refer­ring to was actu­ally Marco’s boss. So, I gladly bowed out from attend­ing such events due to this; it was much eas­ier this way for every­one involved. Marco wanted me to attend more work events just to “stick a thumb in their eye,” as he put it, but it’s just not my style.

What I didn’t know then was that this stigma never really goes away. It has fol­lowed me through all of my dat­ing life. It takes me back to that awk­ward cook­out with my ex, Brian, the looks of dis­gust from my friends, and the “This must be your dear ol’ dad” com­ments at restaurants.

This stigma of being the younger lover over­whelms both sides of the divide in such a sig­nif­i­cant way—the older folks dis­like it socially and can’t under­stand it, yet most of the older men secretly yearn for a younger, attrac­tive, sex­u­ally open lover. The younger folks don’t get it either and find it gross, like sleep­ing with your own par­ent, which, again, they can’t com­pre­hend, prob­a­bly because they just don’t want to. Then there’s us, the younger lovers in a May-December rela­tion­ship. We don’t really fit in any­where, except superficially.

As I’ve said all along, this has caused a lot of trou­ble when mak­ing friends—until I met Vic­tor. Vic­tor didn’t really care that I even had a boyfriend, or that he was older. Vic­tor and I shared a love of music; we both played the same instru­ment and enjoyed a lot of the same inter­ests. He was a hand­some guy, 12 years older than me, and he was just look­ing for some­one to jam with to some new sheet music he’d ordered. Thanks to the Inter­net and my lonely nights at home while Marco was away on busi­ness, Vic­tor found me. After chat­ting for a few weeks, I had worked up the courage to meet Vic­tor in per­son late one evening. I invited him into Marco’s home one week­end while Marco was away.