Artificial Sweetener Daddies



Boy meets girl, boy asks girl out on date, boy pays for first date: That's the typical evolution of a new relationship. But in some cases I've seen, boy starts paying for a lot more than the wining and dining, and this new relationship starts to evolve into a business deal instead.

I know a girl who has a new overpriced designer purse (that is just as functional as my little Target bag, but that's neither here nor there) every time I see her. She also always has her hair freshly done from a salon, a spray tan, a new expensive outfit, and her nails done. And she all of a sudden traded up her 2003 Honda for a brand-new BMW.

Did I mention she's a student and bartender? So what gives? ... she found a new boyfriend, that's what gives. Literally.

A boyfriend who always wants her to look her best, so thus spoils her with the means to so she can, for him. But the kicker is, he shows no real interest in taking their relationship any further. He gives her gifts, and she gives him her gift. The golden booty barter.


"Isn't that just legalized prostitution?" my non-filtered mouth blurted out.

She got defensive, claiming they're in love, but this guy is rarely around, and when she does see him, he just comes over to her place and uses her like a pre-paid booty call. She's never met his friends, and aside from the evidence of material things, he's like an imaginary boyfriend to her friends.

... I wouldn't exactly call that a meaningful relationship.

But I don't carry a gavel to work, so who am I to judge? All I know is that material things or monetary goods given for the exchange of sex is, in fact, prostitution.

She may not realize it, but she has herself a Sugar Daddy. Or as I like to call them, an Artificial Sweetener Daddy.

But who wants presents from a man without the man's presence?

And for a successful guy who makes a lot of money, a Coach purse here and a car payment there is nothing but a new suit to him. It's like a business deal to him — the security of knowing that he has a consistent vagina readily available to him is like a good investment. And a legal, clean prostitute. But the problem is, what my friend who thinks she's in love with her Artificial Sweetener Daddy doesn't realize is that once he's done driving and riding her, he'll trade her in for a newer model. And she'll be kicked out, like a prostitute. But I'm not concerned about her getting her heart broken. She doesn't love him anyway — she just loves the lifestyle of living on Easy Street. Apparently even if that means being easy herself.

And there are a lot of guys out there trying to strike a business deal. A few years ago, a guy I knew invited me to join him on a business trip, luring me in with promises of a story, networks, and my own room. He had his assistant e-mail me a flight itinerary, and my naive ass flew across the country. When I got there and opened the door to my room, I realized he'd rented the pent house suite in a five star hotel. Something smelled fishy, and I wasn't at a sushi restaurant. At the end of the weekend, he proposed to pay all my bills, and my medical bill debt off, if he could have me. When he said it was a business trip, he meant he wanted to make a booty barter. I slept on a couch at the airport my last night there.

My vagina is not for rent. And my heart is not for sale either. Nor should yours be.

Silly rabbits, tricks are for kids ... and silly boys, trying to impress women with cars and wealth. Real women, who aren't hookers, can get it themselves. Be a wiser invester ... time is money.

Women want the things money can't buy. Someone who loves them even when they're ugly and pale from being sick. Someone who is their teammate in life — a partner to succeed in and outside the home.

And you can't put that on a credit card, not even a Black American Express. Unless you want a leprechaun who's after your pot of gold. Because that's all you're going to get: a gold digger.

Be a man, not a sugar daddy.

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