Today, as I ruminated on about whether or not to register a craft business officially, and whether or not to save money or spend wads of it to buy supplies wholesale, my boss remarked, "You need a different kind of boyfriend."
"Huh?"
"You need a sugar Daddy," she said, and I immediately thought of what I'd recently written for the middle-aged meme:
What I'll Never Do and That's Okay: Enter a relationship for money, status or security.
It was the very first sentence of the meme and suddenly I realized that saying "never" is one of those things you shouldn't do because that's when the Universe, God love it, decides to get hilarious on your ass. It popped into my mind, that, having said such a thing, in writing and as publically as you can get, the temptation (impossible as it seems to me) might arise.
I'm beating the universe to it. I'm advertising here and now.
Woman Seeks Sugar Daddy:
The qualified applicant should be between 45 and 110.
Hair is not an issue, unless you do a comb-over and then you are just pathetic no matter how much money you have.
Height is not an issue if you don't mind me towering over you.
Build is not an issue because who in hell is perfect.
Money, for obvious reasons, is an issue but you don't have to be on the list of world's wealthiest men. Moderately well off will do.
Needn't be emotionally sensitive but should be emotionally aware - say five, on a scale of ten.
A lively look in the eyes is nice. Table manners also.
Must be able to read.
An interest in sex is useful if you want to have any - and by "interest" I mean the kind of interest that indicates you actually know something about it beyond the absolute basics.
If you are not handy at chores, you should be able to employ someone who is.
Religion is optional and I'm open-minded, as long as you don't go on and on or expect me to convert to anything.
You would never, ever, ever talk down to me under any circumstance.
Race is completely beside the point.
And finally - this is important - you would never mistake me for your mother, daughter or the domestic help.
NOW! THIS is what YOU get!
To enjoy the fast pace of associating with a woman whose mood cycles on a minute to minute basis.
Infinite sympathy for your real problems.
A kick in the butt when you are sorry for yourself over things that aren't real problems.
Talents I cannot write about on the internet. If you deserve them.
Blunt honesty alternating with periods of abject humility.
Complete silence when you need it.
Someone who can really listen when you really need to talk.
And who will tell you to shut-up when you're talking BS.
I clean up well and can manage social gatherings for limited periods of time.
Tolerance for guy-things, up to and including days of football on television (as long as I am in a sound-proof room somewhere else.)
You may pee with the bathroom door open but do not ever clip your toenails in front of me.
I will read you stories and tell you amusing anecdotes.
I will give you lots of alone time.
I will not ask "what are you thinking" or start conversations with, "we need to talk."
I don't care about your past unless you killed your previous girlfriend.
A sense of humor. (Warning: Not always when you expect it.)
A way to spend your hard-earned cash and the opportunity to give business advice (if it's good and it's brief).
This is a time-limited offer. It probably expires when my fingers leave the keyboard. My phone number is...
written on the wall of the men's washroom at The Split Crow Pub in Halifax.
Thank you for your bandwidth.
