I really shouldn’t have been surprised when I saw that uni students had started to employ sugar daddies as a means of financing their degrees. As someone who has seriously considered paying someone to date me, I can understand the appeal of being a sugar daddy. But having one? There was something unsettling about dating a predatory, sleazy father figure. In my mind, sugar daddies were shrivelled old men with equally shrivelled penises, an offshore bank account and an almost admirable divorce history.
However, this stereotype seems to be wrong on most fronts. It seems some people just get a kick out of being caring and supportive. Maybe I’ve become disillusioned with relationships, but it’s nice to know that there are people out there who expect nothing but your company in return for their generosity.
A bit of research on seekingarrangement.com led me to realise that these men (and women) are kind, caring professionals with nothing but good and wholesome intentions. With this in mind, I dug deeper. Interviews, anonymous surveys, subreddits: the whole shebang. This is empirical data, I swear.
It turns out that basically everyone asked would give it a shot. If nothing else, you make a new friend. What is there to lose? Your life, maybe, but the free stuff is worth it. The general consensus, however, is that he has to be a sugar daddy, not a Splenda daddy. You want to be wined and dined, not goon sacked and Hungry Jacked. Make sure he has the funds to treat you well.
In the same vein, this process only made me realise how little money I have. I once met a taxi driver who had paid for his sugar baby to visit a friend overseas while simultaneously financing their degree. I can’t compete with that. Date me and all you’ll get is ice cream when it’s on special and the occasional home-cooked meal – all at the low cost of listening to my eternal sorrows, day in, day out. I know which one I’d pick.
It seems that a large number of sugar babies have actually formed supportive, mutually beneficial arrangements with their sugar daddies. However, make sure to lay out any ground rules and let the other person know what you’re looking for. It’s still a relationship, so it’s good to be open and honest about your intentions. If your sugar daddy does eventually come to meet the family, make sure you know his real name in order to avoid confusion at the table.
Along the way, it’s probably best to learn first aid, how to cut up food into small pieces before it gets cold and the Heimlich manoeuvre. You never know.
Pro: You get free shit – all the time. No more two-minute noodles and hand-me-down threads; you’re gonna be pulling in the big bucks. Expect fancy dinners with matching wines, Prada on your arm and Calvin Klein on your arse.
Con: Trial and error. The selection process is one requiring patience – who knows how many creepy dates you have to sit through before you find a suitable benefactor. Be ready for awkward conversations about what Snapchat is and steer clear of any mention of memes.
Pro: He’s probably not a fuckboy. Chances are, he’s an educated professional who knows how to be mature and supportive. He also knows where the clitoris is and how to talk dirty without embarrassing himself. It’s a win-win.
Con: Someone might mistake him for your literal father. Once that bridge is crossed, there’s no going back. Cut the rope and let him fall into the river; the awkwardness isn’t worth it.
Pro: You get the seniors discount.
Con: You end up eating dinner every Tuesday at an RSL.
Pro: You can put Certified Aged Carer on your résumé.
Con: He could die literally anywhere at any time.
Honestly, the only thing I really found was that unsurprising amounts of people now have a daddy kink. I kinkshamed all of them in efforts to get them to date me instead; it didn’t work. Alas, I am left only with the all-important question: is life sweeter with a sugar daddy? Or are they bound to leave a bad taste in your mouth? I’m not sure that I’ve found a definite answer but if any of you see me at dinner with an older, bearded fellow just chuck me a sly wink and pretend that you never read this.