From an upper-middle class family in Sydney, I fit the bill for the average university sugar baby. I mean how else would I afford my Serrano, Jarlsberg and rocket focaccias? Initially I thought my chances at grabbing sugar daddy attention on the website SeekingArrangement were limited. They advertise twelve women per man and over 82, Australian female university students are registered on the site. It was also the modern dating scene that prompted me to look at more mature, financially independent suitors.
There are only so many tinder fuckboys a girl can take. I had to think about how much it was worth to them compared to its worth to me. I wanted my sugar relationships to be more meaningful than just sex.
I wanted the men to want me β not just a vagina with a paypalme account. I wanted the romantic pretence, the fancy dinners and philosophical conversations over good wine. Then I found myself on my first sugar date. This guy seemed harmless enough: an overweight, nerdy public servant. No feet, just shoes. My sugar daddy is more like my splenda daddy. A date consists of dinner, drinks and my undivided appreciation and attention on whatever he wants to talk about.
Then there are the gifts. But naturally, to get a lot I had to give a little. So there I was, outside Uni Pub taking a selfie with one friend while another pushed my boobs up to give me extra cleavage.
But one offhand check of my bank account balance changed that⦠and I took our arrangement up a notch. So I earned a nice little grand for myself in less than 5 minutes from the safety of my bedroom for something lots of girls give for free. Ultimately, what surprised me the most was the balance of power in the relationship.
