Why a Surprise Vacation From My Sugar Daddy Went Horribly Wrong (But How I Still Got What I Wanted): Part 2

So, there we were, each in our respec­tive bath­rooms tak­ing a moment to decom­press from the drive and from each other. At this point, I was totally dis­il­lu­sioned to Michael and his world of self-importance. He may have been rich, but he lacked empa­thy and had no moral compass.

While I was in the bath­room feel­ing a lit­tle irri­tated with him, I decided to send a text to my friend (and his ex) Kate and Kee­gan to see how they were. I felt alone, despite being here in this fancy hotel with a rich older man. I just wanted to hear that some­one some­where was happy to hear from me and not wrapped up in their own lives.

Kate responded imme­di­ately. She had fallen madly in love with her col­lege sweet­heart, whom she was now chat­ting online with, because of his work abroad. She was so ecsta­t­i­cally happy that he was finally com­ing to see her after almost 10 years. I was happy for her; finally, a rela­tion­ship of more sub­stance and value. That’s just what Kate needed, and it’s what I wanted, too.

Kee­gan responded after a few min­utes. He was happy to hear from me and asked how I was doing. As usual, he was at work, try­ing to get ahead. His edu­ca­tion brought him far, but his work ethic took him even fur­ther. There was some­thing about him that I couldn’t quite shake; I wanted to know more about him. It wasn’t love at first sight, but it most def­i­nitely was a solid con­nec­tion from the very begin­ning. Because we met at the bar, it was hard to sep­a­rate from that feel­ing of it being wrong to talk to a cus­tomer out­side of work.

Michael sud­denly knocked on my door. “Are you ready to go? Put on a nice pair of jeans. There’s a gift for you on the bed. Meet me in the lobby in 20 minutes.”

I started giv­ing myself a lit­tle pep talk, sim­i­lar to the one I had given myself on the way to his com­pany party. I knew there would be peo­ple there who would look at me like Michael’s daugh­ter, his grand­daugh­ter even, or like a money seeker. There would be peo­ple who would look me square in the eye with a smile and shake my hand, but be shoot­ing darts straight at my face, who will think and talk very poorly about me behind my back just because I am so much younger than Michael. They expected me just hide away like his “dirty lit­tle secret,” not come here and min­gle with them.

I’ve grown a thick skin against peo­ple like this, from hav­ing always dated an older man. It’s who I am and who I enjoy being, yet for some rea­son, most peo­ple can­not wrap their heads around this—they can­not under­stand that hap­pi­ness truly does not know any age lim­its. All they can see are soci­etal bounds, the bounds that pre­vent them from doing what really makes them happy.

Every­one assumes that I’m just young, stu­pid, and naive. Maybe I am, but I think they need to have a closer look inside of them­selves before pass­ing judg­ment on me. I may not be com­pletely sat­is­fied with Michael, but he had a good heart deep down inside. And so do I. We enjoyed spend­ing time together, and at the end of the day, that was what was most impor­tant. All of a sud­den, I felt empow­ered. I didn’t care what they thought. I was the one who was doing what made me happy.