The story of my life and the endless question
What trip! And I don’t mean the one Ben and I are in right now! No. I mean something bigger. Like in a life story line. I never would have thought that personal achievements and goals that were once unattainable, implausible and unrealistic for me back then, would be living now. I would not have even imagined the term sugar baby associated with my life. We both decided to take a break from our comfort zone of skyscraper restaurants, West End nights and Sketch London nights and gave way to the fairy tale landscape that surrounds us with its icy landscape that we are now traversing to the bullet speed. I have no idea why now I suddenly started writing these thoughts, but I guess since we have a few hours until we get to Geneva and Ben has fallen completely asleep next to me, that will just do the trick of killing time. Correct! I’m Jannet, for those of you who might see me in a more positive light if I gave you my real name. But the most common reality is… I’m rarely seen in a positive light. An aviation worker on the night shift might have a little luckier than me on that one, I assure you! But insolence aside, I’m someone you probably already know or at least meet on a daily basis: the girl you saw giving an old man a seat while you were traveling, the one who bent down a bit to pick up your dropped coins at Starbucks or? that other who selflessly went out of his way to spend some time explaining to you where the street you were looking for was? I am someone average, who like everyone else, enjoys being appreciated for what he is, but in my case I am judged mainly for what I do: I am a sugarbabe…
I am the eldest of three brothers raised in Coventry who were raised by doting parents, which is to say, none of whom were sugar daddies or sugar babies even though Dad has religiously deposited money monthly into Mum’s bank account to date. My father was the kind of man who would go out of his way to ensure that his wife and children had everything that would be considered a common possession in the average UK family. We all went to education and led pretty normal lives and were given a great example of principles and moral aspects of a Christian life. I always felt comfortable talking and being a communicative girl and got top marks in humanities. Unlike the exact sciences, where I struggle a little more at the University at the moment. I would say that I could always maintain an equal proportion of energy invested in both my personal and professional development and in my relationships. But it was very early in life that I learned from experience that what I held most precious would eventually become the most significant trigger of titanic change in my life. His name was Phillip… My first love. And as an eighteen year old, that meant the world to me and possibly the force behind everything that was second to me. Needless to say, Phillip broke my heart, which in itself is not a reason for persecution; after all, people get their hearts broken at some point in their lives through no one’s fault. But Phillip… Phillip had managed to keep me and his other girlfriend a secret for a good two years. The foolishness of youth? You could say that, but unfortunately that had been the ongoing pattern in my emotional life for a long time: the cheater, the dishonest, the selfish, sometimes the gambler type. I had never been a sugar baby to any of those… I was getting used to it as the years accumulated! Until one rainy night. It was pouring with rain when I wiped the smudged mascara off my face. Not because of the torrential rain, but because of the uncontrollable tears that she shed that night that the biological father of my son left me when he found out about my pregnancy. It was misery like he had never encountered before and at that moment all I could see for my life was my unborn baby and that bus stop sheltering me from the rain. A car passed and slowly stopped. It was black with black tinted windows and there was some kind of horse like emblem on the top of the front hood (I later found out it wasn’t a horse but a Jaguar). The window rolled down automatically.
He introduced himself as Ben and asked:
– I couldn’t help but notice the terrible state you’re in right now. Please don’t blame me if I feel moved to ask if you’d like to come in.
I immediately declined his offer and added that I didn’t live up to what he thought I was at that bus stop. But somehow, his smile and the way he invited me had already said that his intentions were not what I appeared to be at first. A good thirty minutes later we were sitting at a table having dinner, while I told him the story of my life and how I had no plan B to be a single mother and I still had to finish my studies. As the night progressed we decided to meet up in the next few weeks; during which time I gave in to his charming way of making me feel safe and cared for. I had never felt so selflessly welcomed and accepted… as if for the first time I felt that he belonged. Mark gave me what no other young, volatile, immature boy had ever given me. He treated me like a woman. In the months that followed, the deep feelings I had for him at first began to fade and I think the first shock of being rescued by my hero was gone and what remained were warm, tender feelings for each other. None of those emotional changes influenced how he would help me organize my life and to this day he is there for me. My daughter Sahra is in good health and she is well cared for, and I have a future career. Since then, I have taken note of websites like Mysugardaddy.com and have met other men in similar circumstances to the ones I just described. They are all there for me as much as I am there for them. There is a learning curve from all this inadvertent first introduction to the sugar baby lifestyle.
I often wonder if people, by human nature, sometimes simply oppose the achievements of others because, compared to themselves, they covet the level of effort through which those achievements are produced. People need to look at each other from the perspective of “who they are” and not “what they do”. I remember reading an excerpt from a law book that a friend had left behind in my apartment some time ago. And out of curiosity, while he flipped through the pages, I randomly found the word “neighbor.” Coincidentally, there was a big problem going on at the time between me, a neighbor, and a palm tree that I got as a gift (yeah, I know I don’t even want to start with that), so I stopped to read it. The way he talked about “neighbor” in the context that the book was about (which had nothing to do with my neighbor at the time, by the way, so I was a little deflated by that) was so beautifully moving in rationally logical it was that got stuck in my mind to date. In short, he defined the people who are affected by the things you do or, just as importantly, the things you don’t do. And I have thought about this question for a long time without success in answering it: who am I affecting so negatively with what I do?
To be honest,
Jannet…and hoping to live a life with fewer judgments