In New York City, young girls are constantly bombarded with older men whistling at us on the street and the men are not shy when it comes to pursuing more from a girl without even knowing her age.

Personally I’ve never thought of age as a tangible deciding factor when it comes to matters of the heart.  You either like someone or you don’t.  You move towards intimacy, maybe get married, have babies and live happily ever after, right?

Despite modern law prohibiting certain relations between younger women and older men (or vice versa), doesn’t Mother Nature play a role too?  Why do we physically become “ready” for intercourse and procreation at such young ages if we are told to abstain from what it is that we are naturally inclined to do with our bodies, and the opposite sex?

Like many people, I’ll never forget the day I lost my virginity.  Sure, I knew that I was making a decision that would change me for the rest of my life, but by age 12 my hormones were raging, and I loved my boyfriend so I chose to give it up.

The sensation was a pleasurable pain, but only lasted a moment because he couldn’t stop himself from releasing his love all over me.  In that very brief but thrilling minute, I knew I was hooked on sex.

Although we went to neighboring high schools, I met my first [and second] boyfriend in a chat room on AOL.

Back then (in the ‘90s), the online community seemed vast yet confined to what I thought were people like me.  It is so easy to explore the World Wide Web and make friends along the way.  Connecting with someone via photos and instant messages seemed just as normal and safer than giving someone my number who stopped me on a sidewalk.

I enjoyed being able to express myself through text during chat sessions and there were so many types of “rooms” to peruse.  With just one click I could transport myself from a discussion about comic books with kids my age to a raunchy cyber sex orgy with all sorts of anonymous characters.  I found myself frequenting the latter.

Whenever I entered into a room I knew to be of the naughty variety, a barrage of instant messages would pop up on my screen. I was hit on by all sorts of men and boys, but thought nothing of it because I felt in complete control of each situation.

In addition to AOL chat, the city had some free chat hotlines that were a lot of fun.  Anyone could dial in and anonymously eaves drop on other people’s conversations, catch up on gossip with friends or chat privately with someone at the push of a button.  My girlfriends and I kept a notebook, scribbling facts and nonsense about the guys we thought sounded sexy, and the ones who were just fun to talk to.  A lot of us used silly nicknames or made up aliases.  Group chats were fun, but too chaotic for my taste, I often found myself opting into one-on-one conversations of a more personal nature instead.

One day (when I was 14) I started talking regularly with a guy who lived in my neighborhood, I think. Before I knew it he had sweet-talked me into meeting him, so I invited him over to my house before my parents came home from work.  He was a tall, dark, handsome Latino, and was exactly twice my age.  We never went on any dates; apparently all I needed was some good conversation to let a guy get in my pants.  As soon as he arrived at my apartment we greeted each other with equally devilish twinkles in our eyes.  He wasted no time backing me down onto the living room couch, pulled my jeans off and made me hold onto a pillow so I wouldn’t stare at him while he went down on me.

After Y2K, my family and I moved away from New York to the West coast.  I don’t remember the name of my mystery man but I’ll never forget how talented his was.  High school and ages 15 through 18 are a blur for me as well, but that’s probably because all I craved was attention from men.  In the few years that followed my induction into the wild world of sexual activity I hooked up with too many guys to count.  Most were selfish lovers, some were memorable, but none were truly deserving of me.

The reality is that relationships should always be mutually beneficial, something I wish I realized before.  Unfortunately I’m sure countless girls can relate to my mistakes, and some are making them at this very moment.  I blindly chased what I thought was romance, love and was in pursuit of pleasure without concern for whatever physical or emotional damage I might be inflicting on myself.

Today I’m reconnecting with my old self, and since I’ve had it with failed “regular” relationships have decided to pursue my first real ‘Sugar Daddy.’  The sad thing is that while people call women who are proactive about dating older men, who are wealthy, we are labeled prostitutes.  Back when I was that rebellious teenager I was just considered fun and wild, and promiscuous.  The line between what society considers “normal” and wrong is far too thin in my salacious opinion.

As long as my dirty little desires remain discreet, I could care less what people think about the subject.  I’m learning to stop having sex just for the hell of it and start actually wanting more from a man.    With a little creativity and cunning I’m looking forward to something only sugar dating can provide; the opportunity to finally have my ‘cake’ and eat it too!



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This blog was created as a memoir and in-depth account of my real encounters, experiences and research findings.  I hope that it may help shed light on the dating scene from an objective, (albiet “amateur” point of view) as it pertains to “sugar”.  I also hope to educate, entertain and inspire along the way. 🙂