Why Smart Sugar Babies Never Cut Ties with Their Ex-Sugar Daddies

I kept remind­ing myself of the old say­ing: “If they will cheat with you, they will cheat on you.” I had given myself to the Stet­son man. As wealthy as he was, he was no dif­fer­ent from any other man I had dated or mar­ried. I had yet to be with a faith­ful man, so I was no stranger to being cheated on. But this was different—this man had total con­trol of my life. He con­trolled my finances, which meant he con­trolled my very well-being. After the hair­cut inci­dent, I stayed in my home state for a few days after the Stet­son man left. I was hurt and angry about his affair. Although, I was smart enough not to let the Stet­son man know what I was think­ing, which, at the time, was revenge.

Most of my girl­friends had either got­ten mar­ried or moved away in the sev­eral years I had been dat­ing the Stet­son man. I needed to get out and be the “old me” for a few hours. I texted the ball player with whom I had had the affair with when I was mar­ried. We had been great friends as well as lovers, back in the day. Rather than text me back, he phoned me imme­di­ately. He could tell that I was feel­ing low. He told me that his wife was away with the kids and he sug­gested an after­noon of gam­bling. I am sure he thought it would end in a hotel room. But I agreed and almost imme­di­ately felt my spir­its lift. For a brief moment, I thought maybe he would be my revenge.

We met at one of our old favorite casi­nos. He looked worn, and I imme­di­ately real­ized I was no longer attracted to him, which made me kind of sad. Plus, he was always a lit­tle soft where I was con­cerned. But I needed some­one, any­one, and he was all I had at that moment. We had met many years ago in this casino. He thought I was an ex-Dallas Cow­boys cheer­leader and I had no idea who he was. He told me his phone was dead and asked to use mine. He dialed his own num­ber with my phone so that he had my num­ber. His phone rang and we both had a good laugh. I was smart enough to ask around to find out who this man was. I was impressed a man with his ath­letic abil­ity and prob­a­ble bank account was inter­ested in me.

Many years had passed since our affair. We gam­bled for a few hours, but sadly, it wasn’t Old Home Week and he knew it. We weren’t hav­ing the same kind of fun we had in the past. Finally, he sug­gested going to the bar. We ordered our tra­di­tional “Scooby-Snack” shots. They hit me hard. I started to talk, and I ended up telling him every­thing; I mean, every­thing. He just lis­tened. I finally got to the part about the Christie’s auc­tion and the Greek God hand­ing me his busi­ness card. He asked me who he was and I real­ized that I had never even looked at his card before slip­ping it into my purse. The ball player asked to see the card. I chuck­led and teased him about being jeal­ous. I was beyond tipsy by now.

I dug around in my purse and couldn’t find the card. I con­tin­ued on to the infa­mous hair­cut story.  Finally, he stopped me and instructed me to find the card. This time I found it right away sit­ting at the bot­tom of my purse. I handed it to him and the look on his face imme­di­ately sobered me up. My favorite ex-ball player informed me that the Greek God owned a sports team. He told me all about what he knew of him. I was cer­tainly impressed. He was just beau­ti­ful to look at and even older than the Stet­son man, although just slightly. I was impressed with all of it, except for one major thing—he was married.