Can I Take My Eight Year Old To Mean Girls 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 the life history line. I never thought that personal achievements and goals that were unattainable, distant and unrealistic for me then, I would live right now. I would never have imagined that the term sugar baby would be associated with my life. We both decided to take a break from our comfort zone of high-rise restaurants, West End nights and Sketch London nights and surrender to the surrounding fairytale-like landscape of frozen landscapes that we’re now speeding through at bullet speed. I have no idea why I’m suddenly writing these thoughts down now, but I think we have a few hours until we get to Geneva and Ben is fully asleep next to me, it’s just going to do the killer time trick. Oh right! I’m Janet for those of you who might see me in a more positive light if I gave 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 in this case, I’ll tell you that! But if I don’t think so, I’m someone you’ve probably already met, or at least come across every day: the girl you saw giving up space to the elderly while you went to work, and the other one who stooped a little to bring you fallen coins. Starbucks or that other person who selflessly spent time explaining to you where the street you were looking for was? I’m an average person who, like everyone else, likes to be appreciated for who they are, but in my case, I’m mostly appreciated for what I do: I’m a sugar babe…

I’m the eldest of three siblings who grew up in Coventry and were brought up by caring parents, none of whom were sugar daddy or sugar babies, despite the fact that dad has religiously deposited monthly money into mum’s bank account up until now. My father was the kind of man who did his best to ensure that his wife and children had everything that would be considered common property in an average UK family. We all studied and lived fairly normal lives and were given an excellent example of the principles and moral aspects of the Christian life. I was always easy to talk and a sociable girl and achieved top marks in humanities. Different from the exact sciences, which I’m currently struggling with a little more at Uni. I would say that I have always been able to maintain an equal amount of energy invested in personal, career and relationship development. But it was very early in life that I learned from experience that what I thought was most precious would eventually become the most significant catalyst for a 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 foundation of everything that was second to me. Needless to say, Philip broke my heart, which in itself is no reason for persecution; after all, people break hearts at some point in their lives, and it’s no one’s fault. But Philip… Philip had managed to hide me and his other girlfriend from each other for a good two years. Youthful nonsense? You could say that, but unfortunately, that was my emotional life for a long time: a cheater, a dishonest, sometimes selfish player. I had never been a sugar baby for any of them… I got used to it as the years went by! Until one rainy night. As I wiped the mascara off my face, it rained. Not from the downpour, but from the uncontrollable tears shed that night, my child’s biological father abandoned me upon learning of my pregnancy at the time. It was a misery I had never faced before and at that moment all I could see in my life was my unborn child and the bus stop sheltering me from the rain. A car drove by and slowly stopped. It was black with black tinted windows and had a horse (I later found out was not a horse but a jaguar) as a badge on the top of the front hood. The window rolled down automatically.

He introduced himself to Ben and asked:

– I couldn’t help but notice the terrible condition you are in right now. Please don’t blame me if I am moved to ask if you want to come in.

I promptly declined his offer, adding that I was no match for what he thought I was at that bus stop. But somehow, his smile and the way he invited me already indicated that his intentions were not what I first expressed. A good thirty minutes later we were sitting at the table eating dinner as I poured out my life story and how I didn’t have a plan B to be a single mother but I still had to finish college. As the evening progressed, we decided to meet in the following weeks; a time where I indulged in his oh-so-adorable way of making me feel safe and cared for. I had never felt so welcomed and accepted…like I belonged for the first time. Mark gave me what no other young, fickle and immature boy had ever given me. He treated me like a woman. In the months that followed, the deep feelings I first felt for him began to fade, and I believe that the first effect that my hero saved me had passed away, and there remained a gentle and tender feeling for each other. None of these emotional changes made any difference to how he helped me get my life together, and he still supports me. My daughter Sahra is healthy and cared for and I have a promising career. Since then I have turned my attention to sites like Mysugardaddy.com and have met other men in situations like the one I just described. They are all because of me as much as I am for them. There is a learning curve from all of this first inadvertent introduction to the sugar baby lifestyle

I’ve often wondered if it’s human nature for people to sometimes simply object to the achievements of others because, compared to themselves, they crave the level of effort with which those achievements are achieved. People should look at each other from the perspective of “who they are”, not “what they do”. I remember reading an excerpt from a law book that a friend had left in my apartment some time ago. And out of curiosity, while flipping through the pages, I accidentally noticed the word “neighbor”. Coincidentally, there was a huge issue between the neighbor, me, and the palm tree I got as a gift (yes, I know I don’t even get it), so I stopped reading it. The way it talked about the “neighbor” in the context of the book (which, by the way, had nothing to do with my neighbor at the time, so I was a bit deflated) was so beautifully touching as it was rationally logical, it is to me stuck in the mind until now. In short, it defined the people who are affected by the things you do, or just as importantly, the things you don’t do. And I have been thinking about this question for a long time, but I have not been able to answer it: who am I affecting so negatively with what I am doing?

Respectfully

Janet… and hoping to live a life with less judgement

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