Sign in. Log into your account. Privacy and Cookies Policy. Sign up. Password recovery. Forgot your password? Get help. Create an account. Atlanta Magazine. They were appalled. I take good care of myself mentally and physically and try to focus on the good in life. The dating site is called sugardaddyforme. I know what it sounds like, and why my friends were so grossed out: It seems seedy, like prostitution. I grew up with no money, the daughter of a fire-and-brimstone Pentecostal preacher who put my needs second to those of his flock.
I went to college on a grant and eventually cofounded a fairly successful business in Atlanta. Despite that success, my financial situation has never improved much. It drove me up the wall and made me insecure, but I kept trying. Another lied to me, mostly about whether he was spending time with an ex-girlfriend.
But he kept lying about who he was, and eventually I just had to walk away. So I found myself, at thirty-five, single and exhausted and yearning for something casual and simple and comfortable. The offers came fast. One guy invited me for a weekend away in Chicago. Another, a fifty-something retiree, said he wanted to go on a date but never followed up.
In the photos on his profile he was hot: a young-looking forty-something with bulging biceps visible through the sleeves of his button-down shirt. He was a rich executive in Atlanta, and we started by e-mailing and then talking on the phone. We both wanted something casual but very honest, and he said he wanted to pamper me. We planned to meet for our first date at my house, but he changed his mind and asked me to meet at the Best Buy parking lot on Moreland Avenue. I was excited to be trying on a new persona and dipping a toe into a mysterious dating practice far outside my comfort zone of hipster bars, galleries, and setups by friends.
When he pulled up I realized why he wanted to meet here instead of on my narrow street: He was driving a gigantic blue Hummer. He threw open the door.
