"So why'd you decide to find a sugar baby?" asked Lauren, the cute grad student sitting across the table
"What I'm looking for is..." I set down my menu and thought for a moment.
It had been a rough couple of months. I'd given the eulogy at my father's funeral a few weeks back, something I'd never imagined doing at 30 years old. He and I's relationship had always been strained and it had been obvious to everyone that he wouldn't last long drinking as much as he had been, but it was still sad.
And shortly before that my wife and I had decided to separate. There was no clear "why", so much as a sense that we'd grown into very different people after college.
I felt I'd tied myself in knots trying to be the husband that she wanted and looking for some way to get through to Dad. It was exhausting. It meant neglecting myself. What I wanted now was...
"...a relationship on my terms." I said finally. "What I want, when I want it. With someone good at making me feel good. But real relationships don't work like that, it's not sustainable. So I've gotta offer something in return."
"Hmm, makes sense," she said, turning back to her own menu.
"What about you?" I asked. "Why'd you decide to
be
a sugar baby?"
Lauren sighed. I learned that her parents were rich. And generous, provided their expectations were met, which they currently were not. They sent her to an expensive college to study history and political science and proceed straight to law school afterward. But she discovered she really loved history and decided to go to grad school instead.
"They didn't disown me or anything," she continued. "But I'm on my own for tuition and rent. And one of my sorority sisters did this for a while and said she actually met some fun and interesting guys, so I thought I'd give it a try. Plus, I love my apartment and I can't work enough hours to pay rent at a normal job."
"I think we can help each other out," I said.
The waiter came by and took our order and for a while we covered the usual first date topics: hobbies, my job, her classes, favorite foods, favorite movies, and...
"Wait, you grow your own magic mushrooms?" she asked, incredulous.
"Yeah, ever since I found out how easy it was, " I replied.
"That's actually pretty cool," she said.
That felt good. I'd "interviewed" a few girls before and their reactions ranged from polite "oh, that's nice"-es to outright concern. Likewise, she was relieved when she told me she was in a Russian studies program and I didn't launch into conspiracy theories about the war or accuse her of being an un-American traitor.
I smiled. Yes, I was looking for an overtly transactional relationship, but I still wanted it to be with someone who I clicked with. With Lauren, I'd found that someone.
"So," I said after our plates were cleared. " I think we should do this. What do you think?"
"We still need to talk details. What exactly do you expect from me?"
"I'm thinking we'd see each other on Fridays," I proposed. "You come over to my place, we have some dinner, some sparkling conversation, have sex, spend the night together, and then forget about each other until our next date."
"Forget about each other?" Lauren asked, eyebrows raised.
"I meant that I'm not worried about what you do when we're not together. If you want to go on dates or sleep with other people, that's fine. And I don't think I'll want to talk much between dates."
"I guess that works," she said. "But tbh, as busy as I am with my program, I don't think I'll be interested in seeing other people."
"Same here," I said. My job as a software developer could be intense and between it, hobbies, my family & friends, housework, and trying to stick to an exercise routine, I didn't think I'd have much interest in seeing other people either.
"Okay. Then the last thing to talk about is price..."
"How much is your rent?"
She told me.
"I'll cover all of it."
She raised her eyebrows at that. "Really?"
"Yes. But I meant what I said: 'someone who's good at making me feel good'. I'm not paying that much just to have something pretty to look at."
"Aww," she said, putting her hands under her chin and batting her eyes at me. "You think I'm pretty???"
***
The next Friday night, my phone buzzed and I saw that it was a text from Lauren.
Hey, just left my apartment. I'll see you soon!
I felt a tiny jolt of adrenaline and smiled. I was excited. And a little nervous, no point denying it. I set my phone down and finished loading our takeout fajitas into the oven to keep them warm until she got here.
I took one last look in the mirror and liked what I saw: I'm 5'11 and lean. One of those people who's genetically incapable of putting on fat, in spite of my diet and (almost non-existent) exercise routine. With summer just around the corner it was pretty warm and I went with a short-sleeved red linen shirt and khaki shorts.
I went back into the living room and after 10 minutes of pacing and doomscrolling I heard the doorbell.
I opened up and there she was.
Lauren was about 5'5, with wavy, shoulder-length brown hair and brown eyes. She'd told me that she played a lot of sports in high school, but since college she only occasionally made it to the gym or out for a power walk. I thought I could see that lean former field-hockey player's build under a more recent layer of softness.
She stepped inside and her eye shadow caught my attention. Both eyes sparkled, but while one was subtly blue, the other one had a hint of red. I then noticed that they matched the red and blue ribbon in her hair. It was undeniably working, but I was curious what had inspired it. There was also a sense of déjà vu that I couldn't explain.
"What made you go with the red and blue?" I asked.
"School spirit!" she replied.
She grinned, watching the gears turn as I tried to figure out what was going on.
"Well," she said, her grin turning mischievous. "You seemed excited about your little coed sugar baby, so I decided to look the part! I dug around in my closet for one of my old gameday outfits. Do you like it?"
That was it. She was wearing frayed denim short shorts with a thin black belt. A white halter top showed off both her midriff and a generous amount of cleavage. Instantly, I was transported back to the quad on a fall Saturday, seeing hundreds of girls with their own version of what Lauren had on.
"I-I love it"
"I'm glad," she said, flashing me one more smile. "Now you mentioned something about fajitas? I'm starving!"
She followed her nose through the living room and into the kitchen and sat down as I got out plates and silverware and served the food. I was hungry too, so neither of us said anything for the next few minutes, besides some small talk about how our weeks had been.
