The Stumped Attorney

William. Although something tells me that is not his real name.

“How would you feel about your daughter being on here, William?” I asked him, referring to the website that brought us together.

He was a tough one, this seasoned patent attorney who sat across from me in a cute Italian restaurant in the La Jolla area of San Diego, but he couldn’t get anything past me. That question seemed to have the same effect as me pulling a gun out of my bra and aiming it at his temple. But you wouldn’t have noticed, not unless you were really watching, really paying attention. There it was, the quick quiver of his lip, the color in his face, the ever so slight change in expression, all there and then gone in a flash. He was not expecting a question like that, although it was on topic. I could tell he was just slightly perturbed – even after regaining control over his facial expressions.

“Oh well that would be none of my business. Just none of my business.”

He tried to play it cool. Tried to play it off and approach the question from a nonemotional, totally logical standpoint. After all we were in the middle of quite a long conversation of morals ethics judgments and social norms. It was not meant to put him on the spot, or make him feel uneasy. It was a relevant question, and a genuine question. And what can I say, I was curious. But all he kept on repeating was the same line he outputted the first time I asked.

“What else can I say. That would just be none of my business.”

“Well then, that is very progressive of you, William. Not bad for a 45 year old man like yourself.”

“45? is that what I put on there?” He said with a smirk.


“Oh, well I lied.”

“Oh, Well… I lied too,” I offered. “And I won’t say about what.”

He looked at me for a few moments, smiled and took another bite of his pasta something or other.

After dinner he walked me to my car and as he handed me my to go box of leftover bucatini alla Sorrentina, he took my hand in his and with a smile said, “Goodnight Tiffany. It was truly a pleasure.”


A Bad Man For Me – A Compilation

I realize it is probably not your fault, the way you treat me and the way you talk to me because you are on so many drugs I can’t even find you beneath it all. What I wish I had the strength to say is… I’m done. But I don’t because I don’t trust myself to stand by my own words. So I’ll say nothing… and I’ll write everything.

You hurt me over and over and you don’t even know because you never see me cry.  You are safe on the other end, you don’t have to see my eyes red, my nose run. I hope you get better and get healthy, and find what you are looking for. But you and I… I can’t keep up with your games, I never could, I’m not good at it. I never have been. We aren’t on the same page, not even close. Not even in the same book. Or on the same shelf…

I don’t need to outline all of the ways you disrespect me and take me for granted. You’re smart and you can piece it together. I’ve been treated badly by men and I’ve been treated right by men. You are in the first category, and I don’t know what the hell was wrong with me for sticking around so long. I used to think we had a connection, we had something and we got each other and we laughed together. But no one is laughing anymore. Everything has gone stale and it’s just not fun.

I know I’ll keep your number saved in my phone but I hope I never give in and call you. And when you call me I’ll be in the right place, and I’ll tell you loud and clear all about how I am finally over you.

I”ll be over you.

You finally did it
You pushed and pushed and pushed me to my limit
And here at the end it feels refreshingly clear
And I wonder why I needed you to push so hard for me to get here
So no, I won’t be coming over
No I’m not bringing you your dinner
You can go ahead and lose my number
Because I’m finally over you

When I’m finally over you, I’ll be flying high.
Free at last from the sadness I felt inside.
I’ll be over over over you
And I’ll feel free, I’ll be flying high and I’ll see clearly when I look back at you
I’ll see you for you, and not how I wanted to.
I’ll finally see that you were never the one to make me happy
No matter how hard I tried I don’t think I could do it for you.
You give me no reasons to love you
No reasons to see this through
No reasons to hope for us to come true.
I know still getting over you will take me many moons
But each sunrise will bring me closer
And for this I will be patient
Because I’m tired of the let downs and tired of the hoping
That maybe one of these days
You will be here for me

I’ve been crying
Crying because of you for the last time
I don’t want to be a fool for a fool
So I’ll wipe away the wetness and forget about my stresses
Done with all the messes you’ve made inside my head
I’m cleaning up in there and there is no space for your games anymore
I’ve been crying but each tear that hits the ground sends you flying
Away away away
Away from me at last

It could have been so simple so easy so fun
But you can’t handle the love I laid down couldn’t handle the sun
You prefer shades down
You prefer to sit on your couch
Dark hole, lone wolf, you don’t need no one but yourself
So I’ll leave you to it, I’ll leave you alone like you claim you want to be
Just don’t come back to me
Don’t come running back to me
You had your chance, more than one
And once this wolf goes free, she’s impossible to see
Goodbye Anthony

Friends with (My Kind of) Benefits

SO. I haven’t written in a while, and I apologize (to myself) but I will try and double back to share some “unconventional” dating stories in the next few posts.

I’m pretty sure I’ve managed to successfully hack sugar-daddy-dating system. Some how Lunch is totally fine with us being friends, platonic relationship all the way – no hand holding, no kisses on the cheek, no nothing. I clearly stated that was all I was capable of being with him, as he is married… and well, twice my age, but for the purpose of this argument we will stick with the former excuse. And guess what? He still wants to take me out for lunch, take me shopping, and has offered to continue to help me out financially when I need. I’m honestly confused and amazed and I’m not sure what’s in it for him. When I asked, his reply was equal parts sadness and sweetness:

“I’m lonely, and I enjoy seeing you.”

We met at the mall yesterday and he took me around to all of the different high end stores, bought me two new dresses, pair of shoes, purse, and a gorgeous raincoat that I would never in a million years be able to afford on my own (well on second thought, maybe at this rate…).

No price tag phased him which is still hard for me to wrap my head around. $1000 for a dress?

“Go ahead, try it on! If it fits, its yours.”

He paid cash for everything (he must carry around with him close to $5k in hundred dollar bills) and made it a point to give me all of the receipts. It didn’t occur to me why until my girlfriend pointed out that I can go back and return everything for cash. DUH.

I don’t think he cares if I keep the items or return them. He enjoys spending time with me, and it’s more fun to go around shopping than just eat together or take a walk. He wants to help me out financially but maybe it just feels nicer for him to buy me things instead of flat out handing me $500 or $1000 every time we meet. I get it. I like it. No complaints here!

Anyways, I’m still not totally sure how I feel about this whole thing. But it is feeling less and less weird, and I attribute that to my being completely forth coming regarding my intentions and limitations on our relationship. One thing I’ve learned – it is best, especially when navigating such a slippery slope, to be as straight forward as possible. I find the men appreciate it, it’s a breathe of fresh air for them, as they are used to women trying their best to manipulate and persuade them this way and that, telling them everything they think they want to hear. Not my style. And hey – It doesn’t always work out, but the ones who say sayanara after I drop my short and to the point “friend zone” speech, well, one less fella to worry about.

The best part about Lunch is how easy it is for us to just, hang out. Wether we are just getting lunch, or walking around a mall or anywhere else, he has never made me feel weird or uncomfortable, never walked too close or tried to put his hands on me, and our conversations flow. Obviously he is smart and successful and something of a socialite and it’s fun and entertaining (and dare I say educational??) to simply be around him.

And again, who knows how long this thing will last. I’m still waiting for the day he gets bored of me and starts looking for an actual “sugar baby.” But until then, I’m young, free, beautiful, and looking for some good stories to tell when it’s all said and done. And who am I kidding –  a Herve Leger bondage dress or two along the way wouldn’t hurt. 😉


A Different Kind of Arrangement

He was from Bangalore. Quiet and a bit shy though I could tell he was trying to come off as open and friendly as best he could.

We talked a bit over dinner, and I asked him about his family – all who are still over in Bangalore.

“They must be so proud of you!” I exclaimed. “Thier son, off in America living the dream, working at a big tech company, strong and successful living in one of the most desired cities in the world.”

He smiled again down at his plate but quickly looked up at me as his shyness began to melt away- replaced with his honest reaction to the absurd suggestion that his parents must be proud of him.

“Well… not exactly,” He said with a chuckle.

We finished up dinner, and he asked me if I’d like to go with him up to the city to check out a party – Dracula themed. He told me that a co-worker of his was djing and he had bought two tickets hoping I would like to go with him. Why not, he seemed nice enough, harmless enough.

We walked two blocks down the street to where his shiny new black Audi A4 was parked and climbed in. It was immaculate inside and out. Once we were since he handed me an envelope with $160 inside. Slipped into my purse. Thank you. The whole way to the city he played dance music and top 40 songs and we talked a bit more about this and that. Nothing too note worthy or that I can very well remember. I did notice his driving – I felt very comfortable in the car with him. I liked the way he drove. He didn’t tailgate at all, which is something I cannot stand.

The party was interesting. I felt like I was dumped into a scene from the Adam’s Family. All around me were ladies in heavy black eye make up, long black dresses with fishnets and black head pieces. The men mostly looked as though they had just stepped out of Burning Man. Everyone walked slowly and deliberately and there was a creepy aura to the place, heightened by the fact that there was a strange women playing the piano and singing gruesome sounding songs while a crowd sat at tables around the stage watching with creepy smiles on their faces. That was one room. There was some sort of psychic   reader upstairs, and a bar in the room adjacent to the piano room. The whole place had a specific smell to it – a mix of plastic wig hair, too much make up, and cheap costume fabric. It smelled like one of those Halloween mega stores that start popping up all over town at the start of October. I wasn’t a fan. But I stayed a bit to be polite, and after an hour or so I told my new friend that I was ready to leave but was happy to call myself an uber home in case he wanted to stay. Fortunately, he was ready to leave as well and we headed back to his car.

On the drive back he started to open up a bit after I asked him about dating and how it’s been for him since coming to America. Sounded like his parents were really on his case…

“They always say, ‘when are you going to find a partner?'” He explained. Apparently 30 is too old to be single and he was under tremendous pressure to find a wife and start a family.  Turns out, they were set have him married in just four months time… unless of course, he could find his own wife. The desperation he must have been feeling hit me like a ton of bricks. This shy man from India makes his way to America, and he has been here for five years stuck somewhere between indian and American culture. And so he is trying everything to pick his own rather than fall victim to his parents Arrangement. I could tell the whole situation disturbed him greatly, and was the cause of much stress and anxiety for him.

“Do you know the girl? Do you get to meet her first?” I asked.

He looked grim. “Yes. I can talk to her, video messaging and all that. But I have not pursued it very much. I do not very much want to. There is no spark. I know how it will be… we will marry, and be together, but that is it.”

“It must be nice for her though – she must be excited. She gets a nice, successful husband, she gets to live here in America with you!” I offered, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yes! She gets everything. I get nothing.”

Wow. So he has four months. And when four months comes around, he will marry the girl from his hometown. He will go to India and marry her, and they will return together and begin their life together.

Maybe it’s not so bad. To start off with no spark? To lock yourself into an arranged marriage from the start. But the problem is he is too old. He knows too much.  He has lived… he has tasted America. And he doesn’t want to go back. But culture and tradition and pressure runs deep. Deeper than the freedom of America. Even so far from his family, he still feels the need to ignore his own desires in order to succumb to their wishes.

He wants what he wants, but he will accept what he gets. I wish him the best. I hope he finds what he is looking for, or even better, I hope when he meets this girl from Bangalore that he is set to marry – that the spark is there, and they both get what they have always wanted in a partner.

Haha. Yeah right. As if.

Sorry. I’m in a terrible mood. I just feel so down sometimes I can’t take it. I feel so down on everything. On men. On women. On myself. Whats the point? Whats the point of it all. Look where I am, look who I am. I keep thinking back to myself at 10 years old. So sweet, so shy, so curious and excited to grow up and live my own life. All on my own! My very own. And then I think back to myself at 16 years old. Already having my doubts… Already life dropping small hints here and there that it may not be all that I had hoped and dreamed…

21 years old. Life hit me over the back of my head with a frying pan in the middle of bumblefuck Wyoming. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was the beginning of the end, before anything had even begun. I wasn’t ready, but he didn’t care. I didn’t want it but he didn’t care.

I just want to go back. I want to go back to 10 years old. Fuck take me back to 16 years old even. I’m only 26 and already I am begging for a do-over. Where the hell did I go so wrong?

I am hungry for love. I am hungry for loyalty. But I crave it from all of the wrong men. I crave love and acceptance only from those who are incapable of giving it to me. I go for the impossible. I go for the absolutes. Absolutely and totally unavailable. Am I really this cliche? Does it really just boil down to daddy issues?? Is it that simple and basic? I never felt like I missed out on a father. My mother was so good at being both… but was she? I never felt like I was missing him. But was I?

So I’m done for now. I’m done chasing my dream of ever lasting love. I’m taking a heart-break, because what else is there to do when your heart is broken and further more -never even fully formed to start.

We all have our ways. This is mine, for now at least. I might be alone for a while, but at least I’ll have some money in my savings account. And thats more than I would have if I were to spend my time with the types of fellows I usually go for. The ones who rob me blind yet still I go crawling back for more. Well it’s my turn now. I’m taking back the reins, and I’m steering clear of any man who might tempt me to give any part of myself to him.

My lover. My best friend. I’m not giving up…  but I’m done searching for you.

When you are ready, you come find me. Maybe I’ll be here, maybe I won’t.

Until then, I’ll keep writing. Because thats the only thing that seems to keep me some what grounded and remind me of who I used to be before I began losing hope.

Breaking the Rules

Lavender shirt, black pants, black shoes. Tall. Late 40’s, early 50’s maybe. Very good looking. Slightly weathered skin but nice blue/grey eyes, and a devilish smile. We met for lunch in the restaurant of a 4 star hotel close to downtown. He greeted me with a big, excited smile and offered me his hand to shake, but I went in for a small one armed hug and kiss on the cheek. For some reason it felt more natural, and I didn’t hesitate. I don’t think he minded.

A few moments after sitting down at the table across from one another, he handed me a small blank white envelope. I said thank you and slipped it into my purse beside me.

He was so nice, so easy to talk to, so solid and confident, and I couldn’t help being attracted to him. He was quite older than me of course, but it didn’t matter. Could I actually see myself dating this one…?

If only it were that simple. He spoke about his wife, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised – though the last two men I went out with were indeed single, to the best of my knowledge, at least. He went on to tell me how she became very depressed after the birth of their second son. She was raised Mormon with the belief  that having children would bring all of the joy and happiness to the world, and to her life. After son number two, she did not feel the joy, or the happiness, and she checked out. She now has a pill for every mood, every section of the day, and her emotions are no longer governed by the events and people in her life- but from the effect of whichever pill she popped last. He is lonely, he has lost the excitement, but he will not leave the marriage, and neither will she. So he does what he has to do to survive each day, living in a loveless marriage void of intimacy and affection.

It’s a sadly romantic story that begs just the slightest amount of pity, while almost absolving you of any guilt you might feel in regards to becoming involved with such man. I wondered how his wife would tell it.

Our lunch lasted an hour exactly. We walked outside, hugged, and as I began walking off, he asked me how he could get ahold of me.

Oh right – and so I gave him my number.


What did I just do?? Only 3 dates in and I am breaking my own rules! This wasn’t fair. If that was all it took, I don’t stand a chance. He caught me off guard, he was so smooth and so normal and so… handsome.


Back in my car I opened the small white envelope. Inside was a hallmark card that simply said “Thank You” in swirly gold letters. Inside the card was 4 $50 dollar bills. I put the bills back inside the card, and the card back inside the envelope, and smiled as I drove off.

He texted me a few days later, I had almost forgotten about him by then.

“Hello JAG, I’d love to take you to lunch again next week. Let me know if Tuesday will work.”

Oh no. A second date? Will I be breaking two of my rules with this one? He seemed harmless enough. But I needed to make sure.

“Just lunch?” I replied.

“I’m up for whatever else you’d like to do. Shopping? Spa? Hot Tub? Just lunch is fine too, if thats all you’re up for. I just want to see those lovely blue eyes of yours again.”

Well that was not the response I was expecting. My mind took me over to our towns high end shopping center, where I imagined us going in and out of each store, a trail of receipts and shopping bags in our wake. Well, that would be fun. But at what price? What do I have to do…? I imagined what “Spa” and “Hot Tub” really meant, and decided not to fantasize about those options for now.

My third rule – no intimate affairs with married men. I have already broken two – I gave him my number, and I was about to give him a second date. I needed to draw the line somewhere, and this seemed like a fine place to start.

“Just lunch sounds fine.”

We agreed to meet again the following week, on Wednesday this time. We had a very pleasant lunch sitting across from each other at the outdoor courtyard of another very high end restaurant downtown. I got the salmon, he got the sea bass – after making sure it was not “chilean sea bass” which is apparently a knock off – a fish that was originally named the “chilean tooth fish” which as you can imagine did not sound nearly as appetizing. Only wild caught, European Sea Bass for our man.

Just as he was asking for the check, a peculiar insect landed on his lip and he immediately brushed it off. It fell onto his napkin which was resting in a heap on the table, and we watched it walked back and forth across the fabric, poking and prodding and inspecting the material with it’s many legs and antennas. Neither of us recognized or could name the creature. It looked sort of like a beetle, with a flat almost round back, and long skinny legs. It didn’t seem to be able to fly, it didn’t have wings, but rather hopped around. When we asked the waiter if he could identify the insect, he leaned over our table to take a closer look and said “Oh yes. Why, this is a native bug, it is harmless, it does not bite.”

A native bug. Harmless. Doesn’t bite.

After lunch, he asked if I’d like to go on a walk with him so we could talk more about what we are both looking for. Gulp.

As soon as we stepped outside, He handed me a small tan envelope which felt like it contained another card. I said thank you and put it right into my purse, and we made our way down the street into the upscale neighborhood that surrounded our downtown.

“So, what were you looking for when joining this site?” Crap. I hate this question. Can’t we just carry on in this vague and obscure world where I continue to meet you for lunch, you keep slipping me $200, and we never need to discuss or address what you or I are really doing here?

“Well,” I begin cautiously. “Clearly there is the financial draw. I am a student, not making much money right now, trying to focus on my studies and my art. And then there is the draw of meeting interesting men – older and hopefully wiser, who I could maybe learn from. I enjoy meeting people and hearing their stories too, which is inspirational. So while the financial aspect is what initially drew me in, I have been enjoying my dates so far.”

Perfect. Just vague enough to dodge the naked elephant in the room, while still answering the question in its entirety. I think I did well! Right?? But he wasn’t going to let me off the hook that easy.

“It’s worked for me in the past like this. I have a mistress, I help out financially, I have secured apartments and cars for the women I have seen, and paid for whatever they needed. Always just one woman at a time, I will add. The last women I saw met with me two or three times a week. I would go over to the apartment I rented for her and we would mostly cook food together and fool around.”

Gulp again.

“Didn’t your wife wonder why you were paying for a random apartment?” I couldn’t help myself, it just came out. He laughed, as if that notion was as absurd as the beach being upset that a few grains of sand stuck to the bottom of your sandal as you walked off it’s shore.

“There is so much money floating around, going here and there. I write so many checks throughout the week between the gardner, house care, kids, care givers, lessons, gym, trainers etc. On top of that, I handle the finances.” Basically, the money isn’t missed, and a few thousand dollars each month slips away easel unnoticed. Interesting. Thank god I love my apartment and wouldn’t dream of moving into a newer, nicer one to be this mans personal Rapunzel. Although he was still charming, tall, and handsome as ever…

“To be perfectly honest,” I continued, “I don’t see myself in that position. I am not necessarily interested in that sort of arrangement of intimacy, but I do enjoy your company. I understand if you would like to move on and find a woman more suited to your needs and wants at this time.”

He wasn’t going to give me up that easy, either.

“We can go slow. Continue to get lunch together on Wednesdays, and continue to get to know one another. I am fine with that. But just know… the more money I give you, the more I will try to kiss you, if that is ok, of course. So you set the rules and you set the boundaries and just let me know what is ok.”

Well then. I did my part, I was open and honest, and he did his. Right? If he wants to continue to see me, I wouldn’t mind. I know it’s entering a danger zone. I know I have stepped foot onto the slippery slope, wearing heels to boot. I know I must watch my step with this one.

He walked me back to my car, I gave him a hug and we said our goodbyes. No kisses.

Until next time… if there is a next time. Now that he knows where I stand, I’ll leave it to him to decide. But men always want one thing at the end of the day (or in the middle of the day, in this case) and that is of course, Sex.

But can you blame him? After all, he is just a man.


Military Man

He is in the military, much younger than the last. 36 years old. He lives in Monterey, and I am still not sure of his name – Tom maybe? Yes, let’s just call him Tom. He used a fake name on his profile, this I remember. But don’t we all?

He was quite cute, though also a bit shorter than me. Fit. I could tell he works out. Nice eyes and smooth clear skin. He was very easy to talk to, and seemed very pleased to be there with me. Being with him felt much like a regular date, we didn’t look too unusual together, sitting across from each other in the ocean front eatery in the cozy village of Capitola. Two minutes into taking his seat across from me he opened up his wallet and handed me two crisp $50 dollar bills. Well, That’s out of the way.

He has been oversees in Afghanistan, and many other places, for a very long time. No women, apparently. He explained that he was so lonely over there he needed to find a girl for when he got back. After browsing the web he stumbled upon a popular sugar daddy type website and began lining em up. Upon his return to the States he had his pick, and decided to fly a lovely young lady up from LA to live with him in his Monterey home. She wouldn’t work, she made a mess, she drained him, she wouldn’t do anything. Most importantly, he said, she wouldn’t leave.

One bad experience after the next led him to sign off, and switch to the less aggressive and more illusive website where he met me.

“But why join this type of website at all?” I was curious. He didn’t seem like he really needed to be on any such website, at least not at first glance.

“I don’t like the games,” he said. “I like everything to be straight forward. I am a giver, and enjoy the finer things in life. I enjoy beautiful women. And I have an easier time finding them this way. After all, look who I am sitting across from. Can you blame me?”

Tom mostly talked, and I mostly listened, though he was polite and did ask me a few questions about myself. I don’t like it when my dates ask me questions about myself… that’s not the point. Not only do I want them to know as little about me as possible, I want to know them. I want to hear them.

He was very taken with me, and very eager and excited to keep me in his life. He talked of road trips to Oregon, Big Sur, flights to Hawaii, and even asked me if I would go to the military ball with him in December.  He will buy me a dress for the occasion, he said.

“It should be long, black, high slit on the side, not too low cut, but definitely sleeveless…” He smiled at me. “Other than that, you can pick out whichever one you want.”

Well, December is in quite a long time, thankfully. Tom and I will be a thing of the past by then, and I will have many more stories to share – none of which will include me attending a military ball in a long black dress with a thigh high slit, sleeveless, but not too low cut…

It’s been a pleasure, Tom. Thank you for meeting me and for an enjoyable dinner, and of course, thank you for the cash. I am certain you will have no trouble at all finding a fitting date for the Ball, but I am not your girl.

I am no one’s girl.

Slippery Slope

Watch your step…

Have you ever done something you never thought in a million years you would ever do? Something that questions your morals, your upbringing, your religion, your mother, your father, your community, something that forces you to re-configure your entire perspective on good vs. evil, right vs. wrong…

Something that if you did it, it would mean you aren’t quite “you” anymore. After doing it, you simply cannot be! How could you? Because everything up until that point, every word you spoke, every thought you thunk, every friend you made, everything that defined you was rooted in all of the above.

So what now? What happens after you dip your pinky toe into the pond, and before you know it – there you are standing in the middle, tilting your head side to side trying to get the water out of your ears.

It starts with dinner. Or lunch even. Get paid $200 to wine and dine at your town’s finest eatery, no strings attached? Yes please – whats that? Oh, yes I would like a box, thank you. And how about getting $2,000 for lunch in a private hotel room – minus the wine and dine (let’s not kid ourselves). And have you considered pocketing $10,000 for a weekend getaway? Maybe a private island off the coast of Maui… No? Perhaps $50,000. Shopping, spa, hot tub… Oh but don’t worry, we can just do lunch, if that’s all you’re up for.

I just want to see those lovely blue eyes of yours again.

Everyone has a price.

What’s yours?