What Can I Do With My Old Baby Car Seat My Life Story and the Endless Question

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My Life Story and the Endless Question

What a trip! And I don’t mean the one Ben and I are in right now! No. I mean something bigger. As in a life history line. I would never have thought that the personal achievements and goals, which for me were once unattainable, far-fetched and unrealistic then, I would be living now. Nor would I have even imagined the term sugar baby associated with my life. We both decided to take a break from our comfort zone of skyscraper restaurants, West End evenings and Sketch London nights and gave way to the surrounding fairy tale like landscape with its frozen landscape that we now cut through at bullet speed. I have no idea why I now, suddenly started writing these thoughts, but I guess since we have a few hours until we get to Geneva and Ben is completely dozing off next to me, it will just make the killing time. Oh, that’s right! I’m Jannet, for those of you who might see me in a more positive light if I give you my real name. But the more common reality is… I am very rarely seen in a positive light. A night shift aviation worker might be a little luckier than me on that one, I’ll tell you that! But wisdom aside, I’m someone you’ve probably already met or at least meet every day: the girl you saw giving up a seat to an old man while you were driving, that other one who crouched down a bit to fetch you your dropped coins. Starbucks or that other one who selflessly went out of his way to spend some time explaining to you where the street you were looking for was? I am the average person who, like everyone else, enjoys being appreciated for who they are, but in my case I am mostly judged for what I do: I am a sugar addict…

I’m the eldest of three Coventry-educated siblings who were brought up by caring parents – that is, none of whom were sugar daddies or sugar babies despite the fact that dad religiously deposited monthly money into mum’s bank account until now. My father was the kind of person who would do anything to ensure that his wife and children had everything that would be considered shared assets in the average UK family. We were all brought up and led fairly normal lives and we were given an excellent example of principles and moral aspects of Christian life. I was always quiet speaking and being a sociable girl and achieved top marks in humanities. Different from exact sciences where I struggle with a bit more at Uni now. I would say that I could always keep an equal proportion of energy invested in both my personal and career development and my relationships. But it was very early in life that I learned by experience that what I held dear would eventually become the most significant trigger to titanic change in my life. His name was Philip… My first love. And as an eighteen-year-old girl that meant the world to me and perhaps the sustaining force for everything that came second to me. Needless to say, Phillip broke my heart, which in itself is no reason for persecution; after all, people get their hearts broken at some point in their lives with no one particularly to blame. But Phillip… Phillip managed to keep both me and his other girlfriend a secret from each other for a good two years. Folly of the youth? You could say that but unfortunately that was the ongoing pattern in my emotional life for a long time: the cheater, the dishonest, selfish sometimes the player type. I wasn’t a sugar baby to any of those… I was used to that as years piled up! Until one rainy night. It was pouring down as I wiped the smeared mascara off my face. Not because of the heavy rain but because of uncontrollable tears shed that night, the biological father of my child left me when he found out about my pregnancy at the time. It was misery like I had never encountered before and at that moment all I could see because my life was my unborn baby and that bus stop protecting me from the rain. A car drove by and slowly stopped. It was black with black tinted windows and there was a kind of horse like logo on the top of its front hood (I was later to discover that it was no horse but a Jaguar). The window rolled down automatically.

He introduced himself as Ben and asked:

– I couldn’t help noticing the terrible state you are in now. Please don’t blame me if I am moved to ask if you would like to come in.

I immediately refused his offer adding that I wasn’t as far as he thought I was at that bus stop. But somehow, his smile and manner in which he invited me already stated that his intentions were not what I first assumed. A good thirty minutes later we were sitting at a table eating dinner as I poured out my life story and how I had no plan B for being a single mother who still had to finish my studies. As the night passed we decided to meet in the coming weeks; a time during which I gave in to his ever so charming way of making me feel safe and cared for. I have never felt so deservedly accepted and accepted… like I felt like I belonged for the first time. Mark gave me what no other young, volatile and immature boy had ever given me. He treated me like a woman. In the coming months the deep feelings I first felt for him began to fade and I believe that the first effect of being saved by my hero disappeared and what remained were soft and tender feelings for each other. None of those emotional changes played any part in the way he would help me put my life back together and to this day he is there for me. My daughter Sahra is healthy and cared for and I have an eventual career. Since then I’ve been paying attention to sites like Mysugardaddy.com and meeting other men in circumstances similar to what I just described. They are all there for me as much as I am there for them. There is a learning curve from all of this first unintended introduction to the sugar baby lifestyle

I very often wonder if people, by human nature, sometimes simply resist the achievements of others, because compared to themselves they crave the level of effort with which those achievements occur. People should look at each other from the perspective of “who they are” and not “what they do”. I remember reading an extract from a law book that a friend had left in my apartment some time ago. And out of curiosity, flipping through the pages I happened to see the word “neighbor”. Coincidentally at the time there was a huge issue between a neighbor, myself and a palm tree I had received as a gift (yeah, I know I’m not even getting started on that one) so I then stopped to read it. The way it talked about “neighbor” in the context of the book it was about (which by the way had nothing to do with my then ongoing neighbor so I was a little deflated by that) was so beautifully touching in how rationally logical it was that. it stuck in my mind until now. In short, it defined the people affected by the things you do or, just as importantly, by the things you don’t do. And I have been thinking about this question for a long time without success in answering it: who am I affecting so negatively by what I do?

Sincerely,

Jannet… and hoping to live a life with less judgement

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