The Sugar Daddy Who Taught Me Positive Self-Talk

That whole “power of positive thinking” thing always really annoyed me. I had friends who filled their rooms with crystals, as if an inanimate object could somehow fix their problems.

Once, a girlfriend of mine begged me to come with her to this free workshop that was being offered just off campus. When we showed up at the packed conference room, I realized that the focus of the workshop was “manifestation” and learning how to harness the power of the universe. Of course, by the end of the 90-minute talk, it became clear that what the beautiful blonde girl was selling was actually the chance to learn how to dupe other suckers into believing in the power of manifestation through her 9-week coaching course. I basically had to drag my friend out the door before she got sucked into the multi-level marketing scheme.

I’m not saying that I think that having a good mindset is a bad thing. I just don’t think it’s as powerful as people think. Or at least, I didn’t at the time. I was a staunchly “glass half empty” kind of girl. Didn’t expect anything from anyone, so I couldn’t be disappointed.

That’s exactly the mindset that I thought would make me a good sugar baby. I would just assume that all of the guys that I dated were bad people (because I believed that most people in the world were bad people), so that I wouldn’t be surprised or hurt when they turned out to be jerks. And, I figured, it would make it easier for me to accept their generosity.

Actually, this mindset served me well for a while. I went out on a few dates with guys who were kind of arrogant and selfish, and I took advantage of the free meals and shopping sprees without ever getting emotionally involved. No harm, no foul.

Then I met Joe. And for the first time, a sugar date felt like a romantic date. He asked about me and then listened to the answers. He had thoughtful follow-up questions. Before long, we had covered all the ground of personal details (at least as many personal details as each of us was willing to share), and we had moved into more profound topics of conversation.

He asked me what my thoughts were on technology (“ruining my generation’s ability to think for ourselves,” I said) and travel (“tourism is ruining the environment,” I said) and having a family (“only if the microplastics don’t make me sterile,” that one was a joke.)

“Wow,” Joe said finally. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re extremely pessimistic?”

“It’s part of my brand,” I said. And we raised a toast to that, laughing.

“Okay, but in all seriousness,” Joe said after we had taken a sip of wine. “Doesn’t it tire you out a little bit? Believing that everything and everyone is bad?”

“It’s not a matter of believing. Everything IS bad.”

“You can’t actually believe that.”

I thought about it for a moment.

“No. My four-year-old niece is pretty great.”

“Ah, so there is hope for you yet,” he said.

The restaurant where Joe and I had our date was close to my apartment, so he offered to walk me home. It was a crisp autumn day; perfect for a walk, he said.

“I love this time of year,” he said. “The colors changing. The light. The smells.”

“I don’t,” I replied. “It just reminds me that in a couple of months, I’m going to have to start waking up when it’s dark outside.”

Joe laughed.

“I wonder if we could try something, you and me. I like to think of myself as a pretty positive guy. An optimist, even. And I want to see if I can help you to see the world a little bit less, I don’t know, doom and gloom. Maybe over the next couple of weeks, I can send you messages of nice things I’ve seen throughout my day, and you can send me, maybe just one good thing you’ve noticed or thought or felt. And at the end of two weeks, I think you might see the benefit of having a more positive outlook on life.”

I’ve always liked a challenge, so we shook on it.

“You’re not going to change my mind,” I warned him. “It’s all doom and gloom up here.” I tapped my head.

So we started with Joe’s little experiment. I would wake up in the morning to a text from Joe saying something like, “My coffee this morning was excellent. I’m trying a new blend,” or “Just got back from a run. The temperature is perfect outside.”

Then, I would drag myself out of bed and into the shower. I would complain to myself about how my roommates always used up all the hot water. I would comb my hair and think about how much I needed a haircut. And then I would rummage through whatever clean clothes I had left and put together an outfit that I didn’t ever feel 100% comfortable with.

Usually, I wouldn’t find something even remotely good to report to Joe until around midday or later. On the first day, it was the fact that there was no line at the coffee shop, so I didn’t have to rush to class as usual. On the second day, I was able to tell Joe that I had gotten an unexpected video call from my sister and my niece, which was a nice surprise that put me in a good mood for the rest of the day. On the third day, a dog came up to me. For the rest of the day, I found myself looking around for other dogs that I could potentially make eye contact with, and it made me notice things that I hadn’t ever bothered to look at before. There was a tree on campus that I had never realized how big it was. It was actually pretty impressive, the more I looked at it. So, that was the first time that I had two things to report to Joe.

“Wow, look at you,” he responded with a thumbs-up emoji.

At the end of the week, Joe and I had another date, and despite my best efforts at staying emotionally neutral, I was excited to see him. We were going to go see a play and have dinner afterwards.

But on the day of our date, I got a paper back that was full of criticisms from my professor. I had received a C, the first in my academic career. And it shook me. I immediately started ragging on myself, and I showed up to the date in a bad mood.

Joe realized quickly that something was up and asked me about it. I told him about the paper.

“It’s my fault,” I said. “I read the prompt wrong because I’m careless. I’m so mad at myself."

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Joe stopped me. “That’s a harsh way to talk to yourself. I knew that you saw the world with a negative skew, but I didn’t know that you also talked to yourself that way.”

“Well,” I snapped back. “Who else is to blame here? This is my fault, my stupid mistake.” “Yeah, but there’s a way to hold yourself accountable without beating yourself up, you know that, right?”

“Oh yeah? And how would that sound to you?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe something like, ‘I made a human mistake because I’m human, but it’s not a reflection of my intelligence or my abilities. Next time, I’ll be a little bit more careful.”

I rolled my eyes. But internally, I felt relieved.

“Maybe you’re right,” I said. “I was being a bit hard on myself.”

Joe put a finger in the air with a new idea. “Adendum to our game. In addition to telling me one good thing that you see out in the world, I want you to say one good thing about yourself, too.”

I groaned, but I agreed.

It was hard to get started, for sure. Some days, I couldn’t think of a single positive thing to say about myself. So I would lie, say something like, “I like my hair” or “I’m kind of funny.” Over the course of the next few weeks, though, it got easier, and Joe encouraged me to be even more creative in my responses.

I know that there are studies that show how this kind of exercise can actually change a person’s brain chemistry. But it’s another thing entirely to actually experience it. I genuinely started to see the world differently after I started this silly little experiment with Joe. I noticed people being kind to each other. I felt joy when I saw a bird or children playing. When I looked in the mirror, I started to appreciate myself more, which was honestly astounding.

Joe noticed too, and he said something about it on one of our dates.

“Is it time for you to admit that it’s better to see the world through a more positive lens? Or is that going to scare you back into your negativity cave?”

I laughed and gave him a punch on the shoulder.

“You’re right,” I said. “You’ve officially turned me into a ‘glass half full’ kind of person. I’ll never forgive you.”

But of course, I couldn’t think of how to thank him.