I’m not a prostitute nor do I have any ambition of becoming one. Throughout my last relationship I was harassed constantly online (being insulted anonymously on the internet? that’s unheard of!) because my boyfriend was born during the Kennedy administration and made decent money. Surely I volunteered over a year of my life to be sucking old man cock because I had nothing else going for me. Did I lose you yet? Let me explain… He was (to me) one of the funniest and craziest men I’ve met, which is very attractive in my eyes. I’ve dated multiple men over 40, usually divorced and working in some facet of the comedy/entertainment industry. I’ve never actually seen that written out, WTF is wrong with me? I think I’m attracted to guys who are attracted to me. Wait, that sounds weird. I’m attracted to guys who aren’t necessarily attractive themselves, but are attracted to me because I’m pretty AND funny, right? I don’t fucking know, let’s just move on.
Dating a man who supplied me with a cushy lifestyle was fun, obviously. I still worked while we lived together because I would lose my mind if I had no responsibilities for over 48 hours. I didn’t have to work, at all. I could’ve sat on my ass like a freeloading piece of garbage but that’s not me. I bought some sweet ass Alexander Wang shoes though, come on, I’m a girl. What I’m trying to say is, does that make me a gold-digging-prostitute because my boyfriend bought me expensive things? Fuck no. And to be completely honest, I was making decent money modeling so I could easily afford being a fashionable chick. Our relationship was like any other normal relationship, we loved each other and spent most of our nights watching Twilight Zone and Seinfeld. That’s normal, right?
I don’t want to say I felt imprisoned after the initial love sparks wore off, because it was my choice to stay in his house. The relationship ended months before we actually broke up. We clearly fell out of love and were co-existing because confrontation just seemed unbearable. I felt stuck, I thought this was going to be my life for a few years, and I had gotten used to it. I know there are worse places to be than a giant house in Long Island with a pool, but it’s all relative. My life was not my life. I wasn’t hanging out with my friends or going to concerts, or even listening to the music I loved because my life revolved around him. I know this may sound redundant but I was not living my life how I wanted, and Zoloft wasn’t helping much either.
I was in this world where I was financially stable, had a place to sleep, and a boyfriend. The sense of security I felt was incredible, and for me that is extremely important. I barely have two of those things now and I’m a complete anxious mess. I cannot put a price on peace of mind. I think that’s how a lot of young girls who are dating older men for money feel. Knowing you can pay your rent and afford fancy cheese at Whole Foods are two of my favorite things. Going on dates with an older man seems like a piece of cake, but when it turns into something you rely on financially it becomes unhealthy and probably the worst thing you could ever do to yourself.
I know a girl. She’s in a relationship- wait, I can’t call this a relationship because it’s just too fucked up. She’s in something with a MUCH older man, and has been for over a year. They go to dinner, hang out, have sex, and he gives her money. She pays her rent with that money. She currently doesn’t work. He yells at her when she wants to leave his house and they argue nonstop on the phone when they’re not together. Every week she says she needs to get out of this relationship because it’s stressful and he’s psycho, but every week she falls back into his trap because ultimately, she needs to pay her rent, and I don’t blame her. She hasn’t had a job for a few months, and as nice as that is, she feels stuck. Her choices are either: get a job or continue getting verbally abused. For me, getting a job is the obvious choice, but after a few months of not working I can see how enduring the abuse seems easier than finding employment.
Enter Tom Cruise. What the fucking shit fuck was Katie Holmes thinking? I’ll tell you exactly what she was thinking. 3 million dollars a year to marry her childhood crush. Score. What girl in her 20s WOULDN’T do that? Honestly, I couldn’t tell you what I would have done in her position, but had I agreed to it I KNOW I would’ve regretted it. She was in fucking prison for 5 years. She disappeared, she couldn’t talk about anything, she fell off the face of the earth. I’m not her, I’m not in her brain, but I have a feeling she regrets it. For 5 years she didn’t have to work or worry about anything, from my experience of one year of that I’m surprised she didn’t lose her fucking mind. I mean, if that was in fact an arranged marriage, she spent the end of her 20s – early 30s shackled inside the Cruise house doing who knows what. What a bummer.
So in conclusion: I have no idea where this is going. Date older men, do it, it’s great. I do it all the time. I’ll occasionally hang out with a guy in his 20s to remind myself that I could be having fun, but then I remember I enjoy the company of a man who is just as neurotic and mentally unstable as myself. Oh, and the sex is better.