Page 4 of Sugar Baby

But the fact that I have one dollar and six cents in my bank account says that maybe I should give this at least a second look.

Slowly, I work my way through the list.

Who are you looking for? Mommy, Daddy, Both, Don’t care.

Daddy. Definitely daddy. Absolutely no pussy for me.

Age range.

Uh . . . wanting to avoid potentially seeing college-age dick, I make the search for older men. Thirty to fifty. Erm, no, wait. I adjust the oldest bar down to forty. Yeah, that’s good for now.

Location. There are two options for this one—proximity and specific suburbs.

Proximity seems best. I set the limit to fifteen miles, because that’s as far as I’m willing to travel by public transport, since owning a car is a pipe dream right now.

The list is endless.

Verified accounts.

Accounts with pictures.

Date type.

I pause.Date type?Clicking on that one, I find that its meaning is apparent. Basically, it’s about how much sex am I willing to have on adatewith them.

Meet-cute.

Kiss and don’t tell.

Getting handsy.

Just a taste.

A quickie.

Stay the night.

I take a deep breath and let it out, before clicking out of the filter without picking a selection.

More scrolling through the filters reveals even more options. Limits. Preferences. Body types.

Blah blah blah.

I hit the search bar, leaving the majority of filters open. It takes a few seconds, and I bite on my thumbnail while I wait for the results to load.

My eyebrows raise when over three hundred results show up, even with my ten-year age range and fifteen mile radius. Damn, there are a lot of kinky assholes out there.

I instantly see my mistake by not selecting profiles with photos. Three clicks later, and I have that fixed, and the results slim down by over fifty percent.

I start scrolling, clicking on various profiles, trying to learn what all of the little icons mean. As I read through a bunch of profiles, specifically skipping down to the “my ideal sugar baby is . . .” and “My perfect date is . . .” sections, I start to get a bit of a feel for the app.

From what I’m seeing, most of these men just want some company. Maybe a little bit of something extra, once a connection has been formed, but they don’t want a full-blown relationship. Just someone to go to dinner with once a week or see a movie or show.

This actually doesn’t seem that bad.

I’m just about to call out to Oakley to ask what I need to do to fix up my profile when a steaming bowl of rice and beef stir-fry is shoved under my nose.

“Here, take this. I made too much.”

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