Why I Was Absolutely Terrified After I Broke Up with My Sugar Daddy: Part 1

After his cousin Richard’s wed­ding, my older man, Kee­gan, and I were so loved up and com­fort­able because of and in spite of our age dif­fer­ences. We both knew that mar­riage, kids, and a house were in order for us, but it didn’t come in quite that order. We had been house hunt­ing together, but since I was well seated in my career, I insisted that I absolutely had to buy my own first home, by myself, with­out his money or jointly with him, in case things didn’t work out due to our age difference.

I had an offer accepted on a duplex in a small com­mu­nity with a good school dis­trict; we were both very excited about it. At the same time, I hadn’t been feel­ing quite well. My period was late and then it dawned on me that I may very well be pregnant.

I was scared and wor­ried about being preg­nant, as I had been drink­ing at his cousin’s wed­ding, and I did not want to be “that girl.” You know, the girl who had a baby out of wed­lock to an older man, the girl who isn’t pre­pared and liv­ing in a tiny apart­ment with a neigh­bor down­stairs who smokes like a chim­ney. I didn’t want to be that statistic.

How­ever, there were big­ger things on my plate that required my atten­tion at that time. Kee­gan and I were doing great, but the sit­u­a­tion with the duplex was not work­ing out. The ten­ants started smash­ing up the house, the seller stopped com­mu­ni­cat­ing, and Kee­gan and I started fight­ing about what to do with the duplex. After much nego­ti­at­ing, argu­ing, plead­ing, and even cry­ing, I backed out of the deal.

While I was at it, I was so angry Kee­gan tried to push me into con­tin­u­ing with what I thought was a bad sale, that I even ended things with him as well. We were done. I left him a note and told him to grab his shit from my apart­ment and get the hell out, and that I never wanted to see or hear from him again. Why on earth did I do that? To be hon­est, I have no idea. I was just upset. Now, look­ing back, I can see that I absolutely over­re­acted with the breakup, but I don’t think it was just because of the real estate deal going sour. There was some­thing else going on with my body.

When I got back to my apart­ment the evening after I had left him a note to get his stuff out, I was exhausted. I had turned off my phone and just wanted to be alone. I had some Chi­nese take­out, four dif­fer­ent boxes of preg­nancy tests, and sev­eral choco­late bars. What­ever was going to come of the test, I would work it out some­how. I was absolutely dev­as­tated, but even more deter­mined, despite the heartache of los­ing Kee­gan so quickly after such a lovely week­end together with his family.

So, there I was, stand­ing in my apart­ment that had been pro­fes­sion­ally cleaned, with just my stuff inside. But there were flow­ers in every room, which didn’t take much since the place was so ter­ri­bly tiny, along with choco­lates near every bou­quet and small trin­kets of affec­tion from Kee­gan in every room. A sin­gle card was on the cof­fee table with a pic­ture of a lit­tle boy in an old man’s jacket and hat, hand­ing a sin­gle red rose to a lit­tle girl.

Inside the card, he wrote, “Vivian, I was wrong. I should have respected your choices and I over­stepped my bounds. I guess I had this com­ing, but please know that I am very, truly sorry for caus­ing you any dis­tress, for argu­ing, and for every­thing. If you can find it in your heart to for­give me enough to see me one last time, I promise you, I will be the man you need. Love, Keegan.”

I started cry­ing, but I couldn’t stop think­ing about those preg­nancy tests. I really had to pee, so I decided it was time. So, test after test, after test, after test—I peed on every sin­gle preg­nancy stick pur­chased and each one kept say­ing the same thing over and over…