Scene 1
When your 18th birthday arrives, so arrives the expectation of having it all together. A job, a car, college, and perhaps your own place, make up some of these things. Society doesn’t prepare you for it and the daydream of kissing 17-year-old high school boys is suddenly over. I did not have a transition strategy nor did I know how to form one. All I knew was, the fist-full of insecurities and that tsunami of responsibility, were starting to stick to me like leeches. I did not want to be one of the numerous lost souls still trying to find their way at 30. In the midst of scrambling at my 9-5, while washing my hands during the sweet moment of relief, I took a hard look in the mirror.
How dare I be placed in a situation of frantically shuffling for a company that did not care. The amount after the fact added up to nothing for what I needed it for, and it certainly wouldn’t get me closer to the goal of ridding the rotten fruit at home. The old tenacious Ali was dying, and I was disappointed in myself for the apparent 180 I did not intend. Then, I looked into my own eyes like a dream becoming reality- the bolt of realization went through me and in that instant, I shook off being humble. I was a pretty girl with a skill for seduction and the drive to get whatever I wanted. I decided to use that to reach out and take what was open to me, I was going to get a Sugar Daddy.
I researched thoroughly and found to no surprise that the best place was an app. I built my bait and, “Rich Guy Here,” bit instantaneously. He asked me if I was truly spontaneous, as my profile said, and I asked why that mattered. His simple response was, “Because I am HARD to keep up with ;).” Annoyed and a bit spiteful, I cleared my head and declared most men are not winners. However, he proved interesting and intelligent enough through our conversations, I became more comfortable with meeting him in person. On a brisk Tuesday night, with the help of my mom’s tequila, I steadied myself; today is the day my life hopefully changed. I sat on the edge of my purple bed with a million thoughts racing through my head. I never thought I’d stoop so low, and I pondered, what could be worse? I have not done it all nor was I planning on taking this career beyond my needs? Daunting and feeling ludicrous for being so young and for what I was about to do, the idea of the possible wonders we could experience made me not want to sit still. Looking down at my watch, I had to finish getting ready. My lifelong struggle with anxiety was surely making an appearance, as I put on my lipstick, and my self-doubt cut me deep as I entered the room. The bar was tasteful, and I have passed by it before. Almost like a speakeasy, it was neatly settled in the back of some café. I had butterflies in my stomach, and I felt as if everyone’s eyes were on me, looking at me in a terrible, all-knowing way. I sat frozen, only for a moment as I scanned the room. We had exchanged photos, but we all know when entering this realm of work, you still have no idea who you’re about to see. As the shuffling of individuals came and went out of view, a vacant chair across from a gentleman I thought could have been him, became visible. I made my way both with haste and questionable energy until he looked around and smiled in my direction. Here goes nothing, I thought. I swiftly placed my mask on as I sat down across from him, now feeling like Audrey Hepburn in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”
Throughout the evening I balanced a few illusions. My age, and my name primarily, but I was authentic in who I really wanted to be, and I suppose that mattered most. It was going better than anything I could have ever expected; we clicked beautifully. After learning more about him, I knew I had struck gold- young and successful, rather than the lecherous Hugh Hefner-disciple I had prepared myself for, he managed multiple businesses across the United States, as well as being ex-military. Above all, his mannerisms gave away that he knew how to treat a lady. The passion in his eyes as he talked of business; I was more than a little intrigued. Over wine, we laid out the details of our arrangement. $2,000 a month, for weekends Friday-Sunday, and $1,000 a month when he was out of town. All-expense paid travel to go and see him, and compensatory pay for the hours I’d miss at my 9-5. I felt the kitty cat within me, purr . . .
This story continues in the next post.
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