In every life, a little rain must fall. For one 73-year-old man, this came from the cold, hard realization that it was not a good idea to buy his 27-year-old girlfriend a $775,000 apartment after knowing her for only 10 months. Keep reading »
He will be just like Richard Gere in “Pretty Woman,” I thought. He will be tall, handsome, dreadfully rich, with salt and pepper hair, and an insatiable desire to buy me shoes. He’ll probably be a complete gentleman. Have a reservation at some super swank restaurant. He’ll think I’m captivating over champagne and oysters. He’ll love that I’m the stereotypical starving artist. By the end of the night he’ll be so head-over-heels that he’ll offer to pay off my student loans and take me to Paris. Maybe after a month he’ll want to give me a head-spinningly generous allowance and buy me an apartment in the Village. You know, just to keep things easy and comfortable for me so I can have more time to go on auditions. And of course, he doesn’t even expect me to have sex with him.
This, of course, is what I pictured my sugar-baby misadventure to be like.
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