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The story of the 42-year-old quadriplegic, whose virginity I had the pleasure of taking for

The story of the 42-year-old quadriplegic, whose virginity I had the pleasure of taking for $1,000, was a crowd favorite. He'd taught me not to depend on a husband for financial support—in a way, I was following his advice. In therapy, I finally confessed the source of my brokenness: At age 15, I was sitting next to my grandfather at dinner and felt his hand on my bare thigh.Banking on my feminine appeal, I felt like an independent woman, not tied down or trapped by one partner. My parents weren't thrilled to hear about my entrepreneurial dating methods, but they accepted my choices. I had very nice legs." (I loved that broad.)Yet my father's words pained me: "I'm sorry I couldn't give you everything you wanted," he said. When I'd mentioned this to my mother later that night, she froze.Everything seemed innocent to me then, even when it wasn't.

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The story of the 42-year-old quadriplegic, whose virginity I had the pleasure of taking for $1,000, was a crowd favorite. He'd taught me not to depend on a husband for financial support—in a way, I was following his advice. In therapy, I finally confessed the source of my brokenness: At age 15, I was sitting next to my grandfather at dinner and felt his hand on my bare thigh.

Banking on my feminine appeal, I felt like an independent woman, not tied down or trapped by one partner. My parents weren't thrilled to hear about my entrepreneurial dating methods, but they accepted my choices. I had very nice legs." (I loved that broad.)Yet my father's words pained me: "I'm sorry I couldn't give you everything you wanted," he said. When I'd mentioned this to my mother later that night, she froze.

Everything seemed innocent to me then, even when it wasn't.

Acknowledging this confusing part of my past was important for my own self-understanding.

,000, was a crowd favorite. He'd taught me not to depend on a husband for financial support—in a way, I was following his advice. In therapy, I finally confessed the source of my brokenness: At age 15, I was sitting next to my grandfather at dinner and felt his hand on my bare thigh.Banking on my feminine appeal, I felt like an independent woman, not tied down or trapped by one partner. My parents weren't thrilled to hear about my entrepreneurial dating methods, but they accepted my choices. I had very nice legs." (I loved that broad.)Yet my father's words pained me: "I'm sorry I couldn't give you everything you wanted," he said. When I'd mentioned this to my mother later that night, she froze.Everything seemed innocent to me then, even when it wasn't.

Dating Sugar Daddies felt like a natural, preferable alternative to submitting to marriage or a stressful career. For me, sex work had become a means of stalling—the ultimate distraction, vocationally and intimately. Every time I saw couples together I wondered, why don't I want to share my life with someone?"Your allowance, babe.""Thanks, daddy," I replied, counting five crisp hundreds.I met Rich through Seeking Arrangement.com, a dating website that matched wealthy, successful older men, called "Sugar Daddies," with attractive, open-minded young women, AKA "Sugar Babies." Prospective Sugar People filled out a profile, on which Daddies stated their net worth and income, and Babies could indicate a desired monthly allowance, averaging ,000.For the gentleman of means, a mutually beneficial arrangement provided no-strings-attached companionship, much like From the start, I was an unlikely candidate for the site: a quirky girl-next-door type with the face of a nun.My two younger sisters and I enjoyed an upper-middle class upbringing in a Massachusetts suburb.It was a life hack—a loophole in our society, one area in which young women could capitalize. I turned to therapy for insight."What would bring a nice, college-educated young woman to have sex for money? I feared something was wrong with me—I didn't have this desire for emotional connection.

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