Embracing Minimalist Living with My Sugar Daddy

I grew up with my grandmother, who was a young girl during the Depression, and that meant that she was an expert in never letting anything go to waste. We had sweaters that had been patched, darned, and dyed so that they would last three or four decades. We never threw out a glass jar. There were separate areas of the house and garage that were used as storage for newspapers, plastic bags, flower pots, raggedy towels, you name it.

This used to embarrass me. I mean, I grew up in the era of reality shows about hoarders, which almost always chalked up this kind of behavior to a mental illness like OCD. When I tried to tell my grandmother that she had a problem, she laughed and said, “The problem is all these people who buy, buy, buy and are never happy with what they’ve got.”

I couldn’t argue with that logic. And I have to admit that, especially when I was in my 20s trying to decorate my own house, it wasn’t bad having an endless stock of craft supplies, board games, vintage furniture, and kitchen supplies. I didn’t have to buy a thing, really. For my housewarming party, I told all my friends not to bring anything, but to be ready to clean and polish.

Like most 20-somethings, I was also broke at the time and didn’t have money to spend on new clothes or things from Target. I got really good at thrift shopping, and it became a hobby of mine. My apartment started to take on the look of someone with very eclectic taste; at least that’s what I told myself.

Around this time, my grandmother’s health started to deteriorate, and she needed a nurse to come help her bathe and take her medication. She was able to cover part of the cost of this, but I was working two jobs to be able to pay for the rest, plus my own rent and expenses.

Luckily, I started following a blog of a sugar baby who posted about her experience and how to make the most of that kind of lifestyle. I decided that I would try it for a couple of months and see if it was something that I could do instead of the second job.

And I learned quickly that, yeah, being a sugar baby was a better use of my time than going to my minimum wage job, especially because I could do it mostly virtually.

One of my sugar daddies, Tim, wanted to start off with a long-distance relationship that would then turn into a summer-long in-person relationship if there was good chemistry. Basically, he worked in Chicago for most of the year, and then would come to Texas from June through September to work at his business’s office in Dallas. Since I live in a Dallas suburb, this would be a perfect set-up. I would be able to split my time between his place and mine and be close enough to my grandmother that I could come over to her house whenever she needed me.

Tim and I got along really well over chat and then video calls, and we started to talk about what it would be like to transition our virtual relationship into a physical one. We talked about boundaries and what our dates would look like, and I appreciated how well Tim was able to be professional and flirty at the same time.

As June approached, we decided that I would give Tim a couple of days to get settled in before we had our first in-person date. And I was surprised to find that I was giddy and nervous all that week before he was set to move. I even told my grandmother that I was seeing someone, although I left out the part about how we met each other and how much he would be helping with our living expenses. She said that I was glowing, and she was right.

No matter how much I’ve been talking to someone online, I always make sure that our first date is in public. So, Tim and I agreed on drinks downtown and a local steakhouse. The date went off without a hitch. We got along even better than we did during our long-distance phase, and the hours flew by. I was so relieved to know that the person whom I had agreed to keep seeing in person for the next three months made me feel so comfortable.

By the end of the date, he asked me if I’d like to enjoy a nightcap at his apartment, and I didn’t feel a bit of hesitation. I could tell that he was a perfect gentleman. Plus, I was checking in regularly with my closest girlfriend, who lives in Dallas and would come find me if she didn’t hear from me every two hours.

We got back to his place, which was in a very nice building, and I asked him how the move was going.

“Great,” he said. “Everything is unpacked! Don’t worry, I wouldn’t take you back to a mess.”

Well, the minute that he opened the door, I thought that maybe I had made a mistake in trusting him. Clearly, this was the apartment of a psychopath who rented out apartments only to bring girls back to. There was absolutely nothing on the walls, no decorations beyond two sculptural pieces. Very little furniture.

It’s not that it was all bad. There was an accent wall painted a relaxing burnt orange color, and a large fiddle leaf fig in the corner. The lighting was soft. A large vintage area rug (that I assumed had to be 100% wool) was the star of the show and made the room feel cozy. There was a very pleasant candle smell, and from where I could peep his bed through the bedroom doorway, I could see that he spent good money on linens and pillows.

But, still. This was it?

“I thought you said you unpacked?” I asked.

He laughed.

“Okay, judging by your face, I’m realizing that I should have told you before. My style is minimalist. Not because I’m too lazy to decorate or anything like that. I think that it’s good for the mind to have fewer things to focus on. Everything in here is something I picked out myself. I mixed the color for that wall and then painted it. I got the sculptures at a local craft fair the last time I was in town.”

I felt a little bit better now that I could tell that this was most definitely Tim’s apartment and that he took pride in it.

“Minimalist, you say? I think I’ve heard about that.”

It was a good conversation starter as Tim led me into the kitchen to make me one of the best Negronis I’ve ever had in my life.

Maybe it’s just the early relationship bliss, but I really was interested in the whole minimalism thing after Tim explained it to me. He said that he loved being able to come home from the stress of work and the chaos of Dallas traffic and the confusing mess of freeways to a place that was visually simple and balanced. As an avid student of meditation and yoga, this was Tim’s tranquility zone.

Every time I pulled up into the driveway of my cozy little house for the next few weeks, I thought about how absolutely not minimalist my home was. I wondered whether I was doing my mind any favors by being constantly surrounded by things and trinkets.

Tim mentioned that he would love to come visit me sometime and get to know where I grew up. I was both excited by this idea and deeply mortified. What would he say about my cluttered house? My overgrown garden? My chaotic craftroom?

But Tim was insistent and charming. So, we planned for him to come have lunch at mine. I cleaned and organized for days before he came, but I still worried that my place looked unkempt and messy. I briefly thought about calling my friends over to do a major de-cluttering, but there was no time.

In the end, I shouldn’t have worried so much. Tim loved my house. He complimented me on planting native wildflowers in the front yard. And he was fascinated by the many shelves of things: vintage clocks, figurines that my mom had made, and my many coffee cups.

“You don’t think it’s too, I don’t know, busy?” I asked.

Tim pulled me into a hug.

“Just because I have a minimalist house doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate your home. I love how much of your personality shines through here. It feels very welcoming and fun and whimsical, just like you.”

And that was pretty much the way that our relationship was and would be for the next two months that Tim lived in Dallas. When we were at his house, we enjoyed a sense of calm and quiet connection. And when we were at my house, we were playful and fun.

And when Tim met my grandmother (I didn’t plan on it, but she needed me for something when Tim was in town, and he offered to come meet her), the two of them talked about the pros and cons of minimalism versus my grandmother’s lifestyle. In the end, they decided that their values were similar: don’t buy what you don’t need, fix what you have, and prioritize the important things in life over objects.

When Tim and my relationship went back to virtual, my grandmother would continue to ask about Tim every time I saw her. “I like that boy for you,” she said. So do I. And I look forward to him coming back next summer.