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Sugar baby Jannet - From frogs to prince Sugar Daddy! Chapter 2 - blog.my-sugar-daddy.co.uk

Sugar baby Jannet – From frogs to prince Sugar Daddy! Chapter 2

Sugar Baby Money

I am the eldest of three siblings raised in Coventry who were brought up by caring parents – that is, none of which was a sugar daddy or sugar baby despite the fact dad has religiously deposited monthly monies into mum’s bank account to date. My father was the type of man who would do everything so his wife and kids had all that would be considered common possessions in the average UK family. We all went into education and led pretty normal lives and we were given great example of principles and moral aspects of a christian life. I was always at ease speaking and being a communicative girl and reached top marks in humanities. Different from exact sciences where I struggle with a little bit more at Uni right now. I would say that I could always maintain an equal proportion of energy invested in both my personal and career development and my relationships. But it was very early on in life when I learned from experience that what I held as most treasured, would eventually become the most significant trigger to a titanic change in my life. His name was Phillip… My first love.  And as an eighteen year old girl he meant the world to me and possibly the underpinning force behind all my goals then. Needless to say, Phillip broke my heart, which in itself is no reason for persecution; after all, most people have had hearts broken at some point in their lives with no one being particularly at fault. But Phillip… Phillip had managed to keep both me and his other girlfriend in secret from one another for a good two years. Foolishness of the youth? One could say that but unfortunately that had been the ongoing pattern in my emotional life for a long while: the cheater, the dishonest, selfish sometimes the player type. To none of those had I been a sugar baby… I was getting used to it as years piled up! Until one rainy night. It was pouring down as I wiped the smeared mascara off my face. Not from the pouring rain but from uncontrollable tears shed that night the biological father of my child to be left me when learning of my miscarriage. It was misery as I had never encountered before and at that moment all I could see that bus stop protecting me from the rain. A car drove past and slowly stopped by. It was black with black tinted windows and there was a horse of sorts as an emblem on top of its front hood  – I was later to find out it was no horse but a Jaguar. The window rolled down automatically…

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By Daniele Zedda • 18 February

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