Rediscovering Joy: How My Sugar Baby Revived My Love for Music

I made my money as a nightclub owner that was pretty popular in its heyday. Okay, my friends say that I am modest when I talk about the club. It was…very successful, located in a very wealthy area and usually full of some pretty influential people on any given night.

And I’ll say that I was lucky, in the grand scheme of things. You hear from club owners who have to deal with some really dark stuff: weapons drawn, drug raids in the bathrooms, drama with the staff, all kinds of little and not-so-little fires that you’re having to put out all the time. And that’s not even considering the financial side of things—the fear of recession, seasonal highs and lows, inspections, etc.

And, while I can say that I was lucky that nothing too bad ever happened at my place, the stress and worry that something could go wrong at any moment took a huge toll on me. In order to own a club and not crumble under the anxiety, you’ve got to be good at compartmentalizing, and I was adequate at best. By the time I retired, I had gained weight, long since lost my marriage, and I realized that I couldn’t even listen to music anymore without thinking about the club days.

My remedy was to try to escape from it all by moving to the most remote place that I could find without going out of state. I bought a huge property, got a couple of dogs, and just tuned out the rest of the world.

And it was okay for a little while. But, of course, eventually, it gets kind of lonely, and I realized that maybe I was talking to the dogs a little bit more than I felt comfortable admitting. A friend of mine suggested, while I was having dinner with him and his wife, that I try sugar dating, just to find some company without having to commit to anything. He said there were plenty of women who would be thrilled to meet a rugged former club owner living a quiet life in the countryside. And as kind of an inside joke with him and his wife, I made the profile. They even helped me take the pictures.

I was surprised at how much interest I was able to get, at least from women looking for virtual relationships. But in reality, I wanted something in person. I mean, I had made my whole life on being social, and it was something that I was missing since moving out of the city.

So, I ended up changing my location to the closest nearby city and matched with a woman who wanted to meet me in person. I suggested that we meet at a cocktail bar that I had been to once or twice, and she let me know what time worked for her.

Even though I had been dating online for quite a while at that point, I had to admit that I was incredibly nervous for our first date. I was probably way too overdressed, and I felt stuffy and uncomfortable. I got lost on the way to the bar, even though I had been there before. Luckily, I had been so nervous about being late that I showed up early, even after getting lost, so then I had to just sit there awkwardly for 45 minutes.

The minute that Julie sat down, though, I felt instantly calmer. She had a real soothing way about her, like everything was going to be fine. What I didn’t understand at the time, but that I probably should have, was that what I was seeing was stage presence. But we’ll get to that later.

Anyway, we had a couple of drinks, and the conversation went to all kinds of different places. She told me that she was in a band, but I didn’t really think much of it (lots of people say they’re in a band, and it could mean that they have the occasional jam session in their garage) and I told her that I had owned a club before I retired but didn’t specify which one.

When it came time to decide whether we would go to a second location for dinner or call it a night, I asked Julie if she’d want to extend our date. She put a hand on my forearm and said that she really did want to keep hanging out, but that she had promised a friend that she would go see their concert. It was a place nearby, and she said I was more than welcome to come with her. She just wanted to make an appearance, and then we could go to a restaurant.

I was, of course, a bit hesitant. I hadn’t been to a live music venue since my club days, and honestly, even then, I always felt too old and out of place. But one smile from Julie and I swear, she could talk me into just about anything. So, I said yes.

When we got there, I could feel the bad mood start to creep in. Despite myself, I kept noticing things that I would never allow in my own club: a broken light here, a terribly prepared drink there, the bad service at the coat check. I knew that I was being an old bore, but I just couldn’t help myself.

Thankfully, I was able to keep my comments to myself and try to focus on not feeling like Julie’s weird uncle or something. And to her credit, she made me feel right at home. She introduced me to her friends, made sure that my drink was refreshed, those little nice touches. And when the band started playing, she slipped her hand into mine, and it felt like, okay, maybe I can do this.

I honestly couldn’t believe that I actually enjoyed the show! I couldn’t remember the last time that I felt entirely free while watching live music, and it took me all the way back to those early, early days of my 20s when I had that crazy dream of opening up my own club someday.

I had known, of course, pretty quickly that becoming a club owner would change my relationship with music. It turned it into a business, and although I was always grateful for the success (most club owners don’t get that opportunity), I always resented losing the passion for music. And here it was, right in this room, a few decades later.

Then, the second surprise of the evening: Julie was invited on stage to sing a song with the band. Apparently, this was more than just a casual friendship! And Julie was a more serious musician than I expected. She was incredible.

By the time she came back offstage and joined me, I could feel that something had changed in me. Or maybe not changed, but reawakened (as corny as that sounds.) And I didn’t want to freak Julie out, but my club owner's brain was already at work, thinking of all of the connections I still had in the industry who could help her.

As it turns out, she didn’t need too much of my help. I introduced her to one or two people who were still influential in the music scene, and her own talent and ambition took her where she wanted to go. My contribution after that was purely supportive. I moved part-time back to the apartment that I had never sold in the city where I had my club, and gave an extra key to Julie, without strings or conditions.

To this day, I’ve never missed one of Julie’s shows. And I’ve even found myself putting music on in the background when I’m out on the ranch with the dogs. It somehow feels better to sing along to my favorite songs than talk to myself all the time. It’s even better when Julie is around to sing with me.