There’s an argument to be made that all romantic relationships exist on a continuum between pure fantasy and ruthless capitalism. I’d like to believe that love is real, that courtship is some chaotic but genuine attempt to connect souls, but I also recognize the transactional nature of the whole enterprise. The sugar life just leans into that premise harder than most.
Traditional dating felt restrictive, like I was being dragged through an assembly line of performative monogamy. Date, move in, get married, stop having sex, argue about whose turn it is to buy groceries. That’s what society expects. And yet, in the sugar world, the deal is on the table from day one: Here’s what I offer, here’s what you offer, let’s both leave satisfied. No jealousy. No nagging. No surprises. It’s the most honest dishonest relationship structure I’ve ever encountered.
I started out the way most do: sugar dating sites, cold outreach, some trial and error. There’s a rhythm to the negotiation, a process of aligning expectations. She wants her rent covered, I want a stress-free, gorgeous companion for a weekend in Barbados. We both get what we want. And so, I drop about $10,000 a month on maintaining these relationships. Some months, like when I took two of them to the Caribbean, it spikes to $25,000. It’s a financial line item, somewhere between “entertainment” and “personal development.” We’re planning Italy next, all four of us.
It’s worth mentioning that these women aren’t just attractive. They’re model-level attractive. Some of them literally are models, pulling in money from Instagram, getting paid to look flawless. If dating apps are a free-for-all gladiatorial bloodbath where mere mortals attempt to date these women, the sugar life is a VIP lounge with bottle service. No illusions, no power struggles—just a straightforward understanding of value exchange.
And yes, sex is part of it. In eleven years, I’ve never had a sugar baby who didn’t sleep with me. There’s no pretense, no weird “let’s see where this goes” ambiguity. They know what they’re signing up for, and I do too. Two of them even enjoy each other’s company in a way that enhances the whole experience. The third? Strictly hetero, but she’s along for the ride. Everyone has their lane, and we all stay in it.
People always ask, “Why not just hire a prostitute? Wouldn’t that be cheaper?” Maybe, but that’s missing the point. A prostitute is a transaction. A sugar baby is a dynamic. One is performing, the other is choosing. That distinction matters. These women aren’t desperate. They’re selective. They’re tired of broke, inexperienced dudes who lie about cheating and play Call of Duty all day. With me, they get stability, excitement, travel, gifts, good sex, and someone who treats them well. In return, I get…well, the same thing, minus the rent assistance.
I’m not some socially awkward, aging creep. I’m 6’3, fit, active in martial arts, drive a great car. I get checked out when I walk into a room. But dating multiple women of this caliber in the “normal” world? Impossible. The emotional calculus is too messy. In sugar life, we all understand the rules, and everyone plays their part.
Do I catch feelings? Of course. I love them, but I’m not in love. There’s a distinction. Love, as most understand it, is filled with expectations and obligations. My version is simpler: I care about them, I enjoy their company, I want good things for them. But I’m not trying to put a ring on anyone’s finger. If they decide they want to move on—settle down, get serious, whatever—I respect that.
I make my money in AI consulting for finance. I work twenty hours a week. I have the time and resources to live exactly how I want. And if I ever fall in love, maybe I’ll recalibrate. But for now? Life is fun. Life is good. And I see no reason to play by rules that were written for someone else’s game.