Girl Gone Wild: Sugar daddy mecca

By Loki Ferris

My ass was getting large, so I put on my running shoes and drove to the closest Summerlin park one evening. I gained momentum down a hill and I literally ran into an old man pushing a stroller. "Excuse me," I said, as I jogged around him. I noticed a beautiful brunette in a warm-up suit not too far away. I jogged around her as well. Then I had to wonder: Were they together? Was that her dad? Then it struck me--the baby looked like the old man. It could have been his grandson, I thought, as I kept on. When I came around the bend, catching up to them again, I slowed my pace so I could get more information...

The man had to be in his early 60s. He was still in fair shape, with fewer laugh lines and crow's feet than one would expect from a man his age. The woman had to be my age or younger. Her figure was firm, no doubt from yoga and heavy lifting--of shopping bags.

"It's a shame not to be out on nights like these!" the man replied, in a mature way. Just then the baby started crying, which prompted the woman to commandeer the stroller.

"How old is the baby?" I asked, trying hard not to come off like the noseybody that I am. My instincts told me it was his son and the woman was not his nanny. There had to be at least 25 years between them.

"He's 6 months old."

"Oh, nice, that's a good age." God how stupid I must have sounded!

"Wow, your wife's in great shape for just having had a baby." I did it. I kicked it up a notch. I had to know.

"Oh yeah, she's great. She works out a lot."

Then, like lightning, it occurred to me: I could have done that. I could still do that. I could be living in a country club somewhere, sipping mimosas and affording my children a private school education. I fantasize often about having a housekeeper and nanny and not having to work. I could write, take spin classes and meander through specialty stores looking for that special tchochke that would add an elegant touch to my 4,000-square-foot home on a golf course. I could have a phat portfolio without financial worries and go on a vacation without time constraints. But the thought of what I'd have to do in return makes me cringe. I cannot imagine dating someone as old as my father. I could never and will never let a man's weakness for me be my bargaining tool just so I don't have to have a job.

When I was 18, I was approached by a real sheik--you know, the ones who own oil? He wanted to marry me so I could be the latest novelty addition to his harem. In return, he'd pay for four years of Northwestern University because that was the college closest to his U.S. office. The idea of it piqued my curiosity, but I couldn't see myself being obligated to this man for four years. That meant I had to "do it" with him when he wanted! Would life have really been any easier? Probably not considering the tradeoff; when you're a wife to someone with a lot of power, everything that is given can be taken away.

Every time a potential sugar daddy approaches me, even if he's a dead ringer for Sean Connery, I'm cordial, but quick to decline. I don't ever want to be asked if the man I'm with is my husband or my father! A few years, 10, maybe even 15, would be okay. But come on! Viagra, heart medication, AARP...these are things I want to know about when I'm that age, not when I've just finished college.

But maybe I'm the stupid one. Struggling to balance work, kids, writing and a love life, I fantasize about financial independence. When I'm impatient and getting hit on by rich men, I remind myself that attaining lofty goals by myself is the ultimate reward. But to be fair, there is beauty in the honesty of sugar daddy arrangements. The old man takes care of the pretty young thing as long as she feigns the role of dutiful wife and, in return, she waits for the payoff. Maybe Anna Nicole Smith wasn't as dumb as she looked after all.

E-mail your comments and questions to loki@lasvegasmercury.com.