Why I Regret Not Following a Two-Drink Maximum on a Date with a Rich Older Man: Part 2

My rela­tion­ship with my sugar daddy, the Stet­son man, was in a ter­ri­ble state, and I was very much blam­ing myself for the posi­tion we were in now. When my son passed away, I didn’t han­dle the grief well, and I think that’s when our rela­tion­ship really started to change. At this point, I was con­vinced that I was the rea­son he was turn­ing to another woman now; I could no longer give him what he wanted. I clearly wasn’t as much fun any­more. It was like I had turned into the crazy wife he never wanted to marry in the first place.

Nonethe­less, here I was, get­ting ready to travel to another city to meet my sec­ond sugar daddy. I even­tu­ally boarded the plane and got com­fort­able in my first class seat. Just as I was fas­ten­ing my seat­belt, a very hand­some stranger sat down next to me. It was hard not to notice him—I had a feel­ing it was going to be an inter­est­ing flight.

When the flight atten­dant came by, I imme­di­ately ordered another glass of wine. The hand­some stranger ordered a scotch. I thought back to my first expe­ri­ence with scotch and I couldn’t help but smile to myself at the fond mem­ory. I assume the stranger thought I was smil­ing at him. He smiled back and imme­di­ately start­ing talk­ing to me. Over the next few hours, I was able to lose myself in con­ver­sa­tion with the hand­some stranger. I drank my wine, he drank his scotch, and we just talked about life. I was grate­ful for his company.

When the plane finally landed, I stood up to get my carry-on out from the over­head car­rier. It didn’t take long for me to real­ize that I was pretty drunk from all of the wine. I quickly tried to remem­ber my instruc­tions. This, again, was dif­fer­ent than the Stet­son man’s travel. Early in the rela­tion­ship when I couldn’t fly on his pri­vate jet, I had rented a car so that I had my own trans­porta­tion. This time I had to rely on some­one else. This was new for me.

I reached into my bag and reviewed the e-mail the Greek God’s sec­re­tary had sent me before I left. The page was blurry. I clearly had not started this trip out well. I needed to regroup and do it quickly—the Greek God him­self was going to be meet­ing me at the air­port. I had to get my act together, and quick.