If you’ve ever actually dated for money/housing/food/drugs, you know that it sucks. Even if you’ve only done it in some low level way (like hanging out with dudes just to get smoked out), it’s just a big ass game. You do a lil bit of what they want to get a tiny piece of what you want. Back and forth, back and forth. And that’s only after you’ve found a decent person (or people) who isn’t getting ready to kill you.
So when people say they wish they had a sugar daddy, I know that they really mean they want easy money (i.e. they hate capitalism) and they think that having a sugar daddy is a breeze. But, in reality, dating for money, whether you sleep with them or not, is just another sucky job. That’s something this book I’m currently reading called Revolting Prostitutes by Molly Smith and Juno Mac says about the nature of sex work–that it’s something no one should have to do, like many other exploitative jobs, only more dangerous and more annoying.
The first time I dated for money, I was like 17. This dude I was working with started tricking off on me out of nowhere. We barely ever saw each other outside of our place of employment. It started with buying me lunch all the time and grew to him paying off a credit card in full. Sounds good, but he was highly emotional and required a lot of attention, texting, and talking. He would also do stuff like try to break into my bank account to see if I was really as broke as I claimed to be. By the end, he was basically stalking me up until I moved in with a guy who I said would fuck him up if he contacted me again.
More recently, I’ve a guy offer to fund my whole life, but only after I agreed to stop dating anyone else. No texting, nothing. Like that was a prerequisite before he’d do anything. When I told him I wasn’t interested and that he had shit backwards, he agreed like “yeah maybe that’s why I haven’t met anyone.” Another guy approached me both outside a grocery store and weeks later on the street to give me his name, number, and a message about helping me with money. Both times, he did the same thing–asked me why I’m so beautiful then scribbled something down and handed me that note. I don’t even think he realized I was the same person.
Those kinds of connections are not inspiring to say the least. It’s just predatory behavior that would only be appealing to someone who is truly desperate for basic human needs. It’s really nothing to aspire to. I worry about the women those men go to after me.
-Rachel Wagner 2020