Sugar Daddy

I have a photograph of me at 18, sitting next to a tall guy with silver hair and narrow blue eyes. He's wearing an expensive suit and ostrich boots, and I've got a Rolex watch and big diamond solitaire earrings--the camera has caught their sparkle. This is me with Tom, my first sugar daddy.

I met Tom when he hired me to work at his restaurant my freshman year of college. He had a deep bass voice, and a brusque, impatient manner with the other employees, so I was both amused and slightly intimidated when he began--in a gruff, abrupt way--flirting with me. But I didn't take it seriously, until the evening he called me into his office after my shift.

Oh shit, I thought, am I in trouble? But Tom smiled, gave me some wine, and began talking, telling me about himself, and asking me personal questions. Gradually I realized, Omigod, he's coming on to me! Oh, he can't be serious--he's older than my father!

My disbelief must have shown on my face, because Tom looked at me and said, "There's plenty of reasons why a pretty young girl like you shouldn't go out with a man like me. But I'm going to give you some reasons why you should." And then he laid five $100 bills out on the desk.

I'd never had that much money of my own, and my youthful scorn did a quick about-face at the sight of it. Okay, so he's older. So he's married. I can deal. Tom took me to a hotel that night. The next week, he bought me my first car. He moved me into an apartment, paid my bills, and gave me expensive gifts.

It was all rosy for a while, until Tom's conservative views began to clash with my wild-child lifestyle. He didn't approve of my friends, he didn't like the way I dressed, and he thought a liberal arts education was a waste of time. I responded in classic adolescent fashion: I dressed like a punk, smoked pot in front of him, and used words I knew he didn't understand. "You don't own me," I told him. But in a way, he did, and I didn't like it at all.

In our breakup fight, he said accusingly, "You're one of those women who won't listen to anyone's rules but your own. No man is going to put up with that." Guess what, Tom. You were half right, and you were half wrong.

matisse@thestranger.com