I was reading old diaries, like women sometimes do, when I came across the one containing my sugar trip to Italy in the summer of 09. Whoa what a trip, both literally and figuratively! This day in particular was a real doozy…
(Quick side note: Trip was taken prior to being a self-proclaimed sugar baby, before I ever “fell” into the lifestyle)
Mr. H is so sweet, I wish I was more attracted to him. He wants to be married again (he alludes to marrying me), and, well– not only am I not sure if I want to be married (again), I don’t know that I’ll ever feel that way about him. He says that he wants me to move in when we get home, that I can have the extra house as my studio and come and go as I please (yeah right), so I don’t know…
What does it say to me when I wake up this morning to him tryin to spoon me, yelch! I had to “pretend” to go to the bathroom real quick… I mean, I told him I was seeing someone exclusively back home, and he said he understood, that he would want someone respecting him the same if they went to Italy with some strange man… I guess when the tables, er I mean the beds, are turned however, things once said are quickly forgotten.
I was forewarned by sugar baby friends that Mr. H may come onto me, but I filed that away, along with the confidence to believe that every man wants to sleep with me. I mean, who really believes that of themselves? Honestly though, I am not fishing for compliments from anyone choosing to read this of their own recognizance, like I’m going to give myself compliments or something–
– Okay, back from philosophical tangent
Mr. H though, he said “no strings” when he asked to take me here to Italy, so that is what I’m going off of. Oye ve, what are we going to when we get aboard that cruise? I am going to have to plead sea-sickness or bust! 10 days asea with a man whose sexual tension with me is growing (trust me, I could feel it this morning) immensely and about to burst. Yikes, this could get ugly, or messy.
If I am going to really enjoy the sites here, which, being in Italy is a must, I’d better figure out a better plan than to take a handful of xanax with my morning piss. I’d like my own memories to supersede the 4 gigs or so of digital ones I’ll have racked up by then—hmm.. What to do, what to do… Ah ha! I’ve got it; I’ll take him to a strip club tonight! I’ll dance with some of the girls for him and buy him a dance (or put it on his tab) in the “back room” or whatever the Italian equivalent is.
Wonder which stores we’re gonna hit up after this nap, I can hardly sleep! Crap, Mr. H wants to cuddle, “just for a minute” he says.
“Just a minute,” I reply, “I need to take my meds first.” (Insert gag reflex here)