My Life Story And The Endless Question

What a journey! And I don’t mean the one Ben and I are in right now! No. I mean something larger. As in a life history line. I would never have thought that the personal achievements and goals which to me were once unachievable, far fetched and non realistic then, would I be living right now. Nor would I even have 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 scenery we are cutting right through in bullet speed now. I have no idea why I now, all of a sudden started scribbling this thoughts down but I suppose as we have a few hours till we get to Geneva and Ben completely dozed off next to me, that will just do the killing time trick. Oh right! I am 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 bit luckier than me on that one, I’ll tell you that! But sassiness aside, I am someone you most certainly have already met or at least encounter daily: the girl you saw giving a seat away to an elderly while you were commuting, that other one who squatted a little bit to get you your fallen coins at Starbucks or that other one who selflessly went out of her way to spend some time explaining to you where the street you were looking for was? I am the average somebody, who like everybody else, enjoys being appreciated for who they are but in my case I am mostly judged for what I do: I am a sugarbabe…

I am the eldest of three siblings raised in Coventry who were brought up by caring parents – that is, none of which was a sugar daddy or sugar baby despite the fact dad has religiously deposited monthly monies into mum’s bank account to date. My father was the type of man who would do everything so his wife and kids had all that would be considered common possessions in the average UK family. We all went into education and led pretty normal lives and we were given great example of principles and moral aspects of a christian life. I was always at ease speaking and being a communicative girl and reached top marks in humanities. Different from exact sciences where I struggle with a little bit more at Uni right now. I would say that I could always maintain an equal proportion of energy invested in both my personal and career development and my relationships. But it was very early on in life when I learned from experience that what I held as most treasured, would eventually become the most significant trigger to a titanic change in my life. His name was Phillip… My first love. And as an eighteen year old girl that meant the world to me and possibly the underpinning force to all that was 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 being particularly at fault. But Phillip… Phillip had managed to keep both me and his other girlfriend in secret from one another for a good two years. Foolishness of the youth? One could say that but unfortunately that had been the ongoing pattern in my emotional life for a long while: the cheater, the dishonest, selfish sometimes the player type. To none of those had I been a sugar baby… I was getting used to it as years piled up! Until one rainy night. It was pouring down as I wiped the smeared mascara off my face. Not from the pouring rain but from uncontrollable tears shed that night the biological father of my child left me when learning of my then pregnancy. It was misery as I had never encountered before and at that moment all I could see as my life was my unborn baby and that bus stop protecting me from the rain. A car drove past and slowly stopped by. It was black with black tinted windows and there was a horse of sorts as an emblem on top of its front hood (I was later to find out it was no horse but a Jaguar). The window rolled down automatically.

He introduced himself as Ben and asked:

– I could not help but notice the terrible state you are in right 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 I was not up to what he thought I was on that bus stop. But somehow, his smile and way which he invited me had already stated his intentions were not the ones I first made out to be. A good thirty minutes later we were sitting at a table having dinner, while I poured my life story away and how I had no plan B for being a single mother still having to finish my studies. As the night went by we decided to meet in the forthcoming weeks; time during which I gave in to his ever so charming way to make me feel safe and cared for. I had never felt so deservingly taken in and accepted… as though I for the first time felt I belonged. Mark gave me what no other young, volatile and immature boy had never given me. He treated me as a woman. In the months ahead the deep feelings I first felt for him started fading away and I believe the first impact of being rescued by my hero had gone and what remained were gentle and tender feelings toward each other. None of those emotional changes played any part in the way he would help me put my life together and to date he is there for me. My daughter Sahra is healthy and cared for and I have a prospective career. I have since then taken notice of websites and have met 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 this first inadvertent introduction to the sugar baby style of life

I very often wonder if people, out of human nature, sometimes simply oppose to the achievements of others because in comparison to themselves they covet the level of effort through which those achievement come about. People should look at each other from the “who they are” and not “what they do” perspective. I remember reading an extract from a book on law a friend had forgotten in my apartment some time ago. And out of curiosity, while flicking through the pages I randomly spotted the word “neighbor”. By coincidence at the time there was a huge issue going on between a neighbor, myself and a palm tree I got as present (yeah, I know don’t even get me started on that one) so I then stopped to read it. The way it talked about “neighbor” in the context the book was about (which by the way had nothing whatsoever to do with my then ongoing neighbor so I was a bit deflated by that) was so beautifully touching in how rationally logical it was that it got stuck in my mind to date. In short, it defined the people affected by the things you do or or, equally important, the things you don’t do. And I have thought about this question for a long time now with no success in answering it: who am I affecting so negatively with what I do?

Sincerely,

Jannet… and hoping to live a life with less judgement