Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Clemson

We both must have been wiped out, because we slept the entire night there on the sofa.

I woke up with a very stiff neck but otherwise felt pretty energized. Of course, the first thing on my mind was checking my inbox to see if I had any messages overnight.

Grace sat up and stretched too.

“I can’t believe we slept here all night. My God, do I have to pee,” she said and hustled off to the bathroom.

I had the same situation going on, so I used the bathroom in my bedroom and washed my face too while I was in there. I grabbed my laptop off my desk and headed out to the kitchen.

My roomie was making a cup of coffee and asked if I wanted one. I wasn’t a big fan and shook my head. A glass of orange juice sounded perfect, though.

“Have you checked?” she asked, motioning to my laptop.

“Not yet. I think I’m still waking up,” I explained while pouring the juice.

“Oh my God, the suspense is killing me. Look!” she insisted while elbowing past me at the refrigerator for some creamer. She gave the container a little shake and frowned. “Almost out,” she mumbled and poured what was left in her cup.

After she tossed the plastic bottle into the recycling trash bin, she sat on the stool next to me at our breakfast bar.

Before logging into my account, I saw a message from Luke had come in sometime last night. I definitely needed to respond to him too, but after I checked.

As the app loaded, Grace and I stared at my computer screen with our mouths hanging open. There were no fewer than thirty messages in the inbox queue, and another popped in while we sat there in shock.

I gasped.

“Oh, Jesus,” she muttered.

“You can say that again.”

I remembered that Solei advised that the first few days after a new profile went up were very busy. But I thought she might have meant five messages, ten at the most. I guess I should’ve asked exact numbers so I wouldn’t be as unnerved as I was. I just stared at the monitor, nearly afraid to click on the first one.

“What are you waiting for? Do you want me to screen these for you?” she asked, trying to nudge me out of the way. She reached across my body to pull the laptop closer, and I playfully swatted her hands.

“Down, girl.” I laughed. “I got this.”

“Hey,” she teased. “I’m just being supportive.”

We both giggled, and I clicked into the first message.

The man introduced himself, and said he noticed I was new. He told me a bit about himself, asked a few basic questions, and said he hoped he would hear back from me soon. He included two pictures of himself, and he was an average-looking guy. He wasn’t pushy or demanding.

I was relieved. I didn’t want to feel like I was dodging and weaving around a bunch of creeps all the time, so I felt more confident to click on the second message.

And then the third, and fourth, and so on down the list. Most were very similar, with a few standouts in the bunch. I let Grace read each one after I did, and in under two hours, we had gone through them all.

“How are you going to decide?” she asked, looked a bit bewildered.

“I think there’s going to have to be some sort of elimination process. Especially if this many come in every day,” I said, motioning to the screen. “If they hit certain red flags, no response. Everyone else gets at least a courtesy reply. The few that I’m interested in should get individualized messages back,” I said with a nod, feeling good about the system I came up with on the fly.

“Oh, good idea. Do you have a list of red flags? That way I can help you weed through these.”

“No, but that might be a good thing to have on hand.”

She agreed and scooted to her room for a notebook.

Together we made a list of eight things that were complete turn-offs. If there was a warning flag anywhere in the message, the guy was gone. We also agreed to keep a separate list of guys who were automatically disqualified so I didn’t waste my time reading future messages from them.

Solei had said that if worse came to worst—if a guy began harassing me, for example—I could block him completely. She advised me to use that feature only in those extreme circumstances and assured me that it was rare a client behaved that way.

I hoped she was telling the truth, because something like that would set my anxiety on high alert.

After applying the newly devised elimination process to the messages in my inbox, I had four candidates to write personal responses back to, three got polite replies with no indication that I wanted things to proceed, and only one went on the blacklist.

That guy openly asked too many questions about my sexual preferences, and it felt really sleezy. The tone of his messages was completely different from the others. Grace and I both agreed about the vibe coming off the man, and she wrote his username in her notebook.

“Okay, all in all, that wasn’t too bad,” I said, looking at my friend.

“Except one thing,” she replied while waving her hand toward the monitor. “Six more have come in while we were going through those.”

“Oh, Jesus,” I muttered and stared at the screen.

“It’s your own fault, you know.” She grinned so I knew she was teasing. “If you weren’t so freaking hot, I’m sure your inbox wouldn’t be this active. You hit all the marks for a man’s wet dream.”

“Yuck,” I grumbled. “Did you have to use that word combo?” I asked with my face scrunched up. I didn’t want to think about guys, my photos, and semen all in the same thought.

Grace clapped her hands together. “Okay, let’s get these responses sent out so you can line up some dates.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“It feels like a challenge now. And I love a good challenge,” she replied in a sing-song voice.

“Maybe you should give this a try too?”

“Nah. I like guys my own age. For the most part, anyway. I’ll just live vicariously through you.” She was quiet for a moment or two, reading through a new email that came in. “Are you excited to see what they offer?” she asked carefully.

“I just need money for school, Grace. That’s it. I’ve never been interested in fancy things. I just need the basics. But I need a large sum of money, and I need it fast. So here we are.” That pretty much summed up this whole adventure in a couple of sentences.

Then I remembered that Luke had messaged last night. I wanted to get to know him better, and I didn’t want him to think I was playing games by waiting so long between messages.

“Who are you messaging? I thought they want you to use the app?” Grace asked, looking at my laptop.

“I’m texting Luke. He sent something last night after we crashed on the sofa, and I never got to it.”

“Luke?” She gave me a confused glare like I was holding out on her. “Who the hell is that?”

I rolled my eyes. She was so forgetful for a young person. Either that or she didn’t pay attention to anything going on that didn’t directly involve her.

“The cutie from the beach?” I said, reminding her that she’d already met him.

“Oh, yeah. Him…”

I knew the girl well enough to know what was going on in that head of hers. She just thought of something she didn’t want to voice out loud in fear of pulling a dangling thread on a sweater only to have the whole thing unravel.

“Out with it!” I ordered playfully. I meant the words, though.

“What are you going to do with him…and…all of this?” She swirled her hand in a circular motion in front of the screen.

“I haven’t figured that out yet. I know the right thing to do is to be upfront with him from the get-go. Then no one gets hurt when the truth comes out later.”

She looked skeptical. “Mmmm, I don’t know, Clem. Do you think he’d be understanding about it? Would any guy?”

I got where her mind was, but I wanted to hold out hope all of this would just work itself out.

Now who is being na?ve?

With a shrug, I said, “I think I’ll jump off that bridge when I come to it. You know? I’ve got enough to manage here with this.” Now I made the same hand gesture toward the computer.

“But you like him?” she asked in a completely different tone of voice. The other stuff had been all business, and now I heard the genuine interest of a friend. “Luke, I mean,” she clarified.

I nodded with a slow smile. “He’s super nice. Such a good guy through and through. At least he seems to be.”

I shrugged again. I had to learn to trust my instincts with him as much as I would rely on them with this whole sugar-dating scene.

I typed out a quick message to Luke.

Always great hearing from you. I always smile when I read your texts.

I’m glad. You make me smile too. A lot. Want to have dinner later this week? Or a movie maybe?

Hmmm, let me see how my schedule shapes up. Not that I’m squeezing you in. Please don’t get the wrong impression. Like I said, I have a lot on my plate right now. Mostly it feels like juggling chainsaws. You know?

All right. That’s better than a straight-up no, right? I’ll take it. Have a great day, pretty girl.

You’re so sweet. You too!

Grace was reading over my shoulder the whole time, and when I put my phone down, she just stared at me.

“What?” I asked a bit defensively.

My friend gave a slow smile. “Shit. You weren’t kidding. He’s a sweetheart. Few and far between these days.” She pointed at the screen where the messages were. “Girl, don’t fuck that up.”

I clicked back into the sugar-dating website to use their chat client from my keyboard rather than typing on my phone. There were times I was convinced I was meant to have been born in a different generation. I didn’t like social media, hated typing on a cell phone, and would rather stay in with a good book than go out clubbing with friends from school. Mostly, I felt much older than my years—in fact, a lot of my female peers teased me similarly—but it was just who I was.

“You don’t have to sit here with me all morning,” I said to Grace. “I mean, if you have things you need to do.”

I hoped she didn’t feel like I was trying to get rid of her, but…really, maybe I was. Now that it came to messaging these men back, I felt like I needed some privacy.

“Nope,” she chirped. “I’ve got nothing going on. Consider me your virtual wingwoman.”

She said it so proudly, I felt bad about trying to ditch her.

“Okay. I think I’m going to message this one first.” I pointed to one of the profiles on my screen. The man’s name was Jonathan, fifty-four years old, worked in finance. From his pictures, he was decent-looking. Not necessarily a head-turner, but not unattractive by any means.

As I typed a message to him, I read and reread his message to me. I wanted to be sure I answered any questions he asked and sprinkle information about me in between.

Grace read as I typed.

“Maybe don’t specify how many times a week or month you can date,” she said. “You don’t want to discourage him, right? I’m sure that’s something that can be discussed once you meet the first time.”

“Oh, that’s a good point. I also don’t want to be misleading. I still have obligations with the team, even though I can’t compete right now. I still have to practice and everything else.”

“I think those are all things you can figure out later. Plus, it will give you something to talk about at first when things are awkward,” she pointed out.

“Damn, girl. You’re a natural at this. Are you sure you don’t want to dive into this pool with me?”

She shook her head. “Uhh, seems more like a shark tank to me.”

I made the changes and sent the message. Right away I moved on to the next profile. His name was Kevin, and his profile listed his age as sixty. That was right at the top end of my age limit, but he looked so much younger and very fit and active. In fact, two of his three pictures were of him doing outdoor activities. In one shot, he clearly was on the water, and there was a wakeboard leaning against the boat beside him. The other shot included beautiful forest scenery in the background like he was on a hike.

“I like this one better than Jonathan,” Grace said before I could.

I laughed. “I was literally just thinking the same thing. I like how active he is. Right up my alley.”

My mind shot back to Luke and our day at the beach. Though he admitted he wasn’t a strong swimmer, his body was fit and mouth-watering. Clearly the guy took care of himself and enjoyed an active lifestyle. The day we’d walked the dogs at the shelter, he had no trouble keeping up with my naturally fast pace.

Stay on task, girl .

I reminded myself to stay focused and finished the message to Kevin. This reply sounded easier and more natural, and I was tempted to cut and paste it into the next reply.

The third guy that made the quick cut Grace and I did was named Brian. He was the best-looking of the original crew, with brown hair just starting to show some gray. Very sexy, strangely. Never knew I liked that vibe, but I couldn’t stop checking out his pictures.

“This guy is straight-up hot,” I muttered while staring at his photo. “What does it say for his age?” I asked my wingwoman.

She mumbled while scanning his profile until she found the information we were looking for. “Ah, here it is. Says he’s fifty-five.” She quickly looked up at the monitor and then looked at me. “He might be lying.”

“You think he looks older than that?”

“No, I think younger. He barely has any aging on his face, and that’s not the norm for guys, is it? I mean, I know there are some that take skin care seriously, but for the most part…”

“That’s odd, though,” I said, confused. “Why say you’re older than you are? Seems backwards. Doesn’t everyone want to be younger?”

“You would think,” she said. “Buuutt…”

She was spinning up another theory. My roommate should’ve majored in creative writing. She had the most vivid imagination and loved making up random strangers’ backstories just from observing them doing everyday things.

It was almost a superpower.

Grace rubbed her chin and said, “Maybe in this world, this sugar-dating world, men are insecure about being young. Like, maybe the girls will think they can’t provide the way an older guy can?”

I thought about it for a second. “Could be. I mean, it kind of makes sense. I was thinking maybe girls think they are more likely to want sex if they are younger, and from what I’ve been reading online, a lot of girls really don’t want to sleep with the guys.”

“And what about you?” Grace asked bluntly.

“What about me?” I tried playing dumb because I’d been shying away from discussing this aspect of this world with her.

“Are you open to sleeping with these men?” she pressed.

“I think if it’s where the relationship naturally progresses, then sure. Why not, right? I’m unattached, I’ve made it very clear what I’m looking for, and nowhere does it say it’s to get laid. But if I was super into a guy, like any other date.” I shrugged and paused a moment. “Then yeah, I might do it.”

She seemed satisfied with my answer, or maybe more so that I’d actually thought it through already and had a legitimate opinion on the prospect.

“Okay, I need to do this last one and then get to the pool,” I said, getting us back on task.

“Do you want me to monitor this while you’re gone?” she asked, sounding hopeful.

“I’ll just look at them when I get back. It’s a short practice today, so if these dudes are that impatient, this will never work with me.”

I hoped she wasn’t offended.

The last profile I answered that morning was a man named Marco. Dark hair, dark skin, and eyes like lasers. His one picture was so intense, I felt myself breaking out in a bit of a sweat.

“Jesus, this guy,” Grace said.

“Right? I think it just got really hot in here.” We both giggled. “He’s super intense looking, isn’t he?”

“I’m a little uncomfortable with that look in his eye,” she said, not taking her eyes off the screen.

“I think he just looks that way because of the dark features. He seems great in his write-up. We actually have a lot in common. Says he’s from Los Angeles originally,” I commented while typing.

Closing my laptop, I stood and stretched. My body felt stiff from sleeping on the sofa all night, but I’d loosen up once I hit the water.

“What are you doing today? Loafing around?” I teased.

“I have a few errands to run, actually,” she snipped back with a grin and then stuck her tongue out for good measure. “I have to go over to campus and deal with some book returns that I’ve been putting off.”

“Smart to do that on the weekend,” I said. “It will be less of a madhouse in that damn bookstore. Why is it always so crowded in there?”

“Because they have so much shit crammed into that small space, there’s no room for humans.”

“I think you may be on to something.” I smiled and went to my room to get ready for practice.

Later, when I got back to the house, the place was quiet and dark except for the sun coming in through the back sliding door. I thought Grace would be waiting for me and pounce the moment I walked in to check if any of the men messaged back.

Intentionally, I set the notifications on the app to silent on my phone. I didn’t want this endeavor to become a distraction or interrupt my daily life. I had to make this work out while maintaining a regular routine.

First, I needed some food. I was always ravenous after a good swim, and I gave it my all today. Really, I tried to every practice, but now, I felt like I had to prove to my coaches that I belonged here. That they didn’t fuck up by not kicking me off the team in addition to taking away my financial support.

I had to keep reminding myself that this would pass. It was one semester. A few months out of my entire life that things would be difficult. But I was here for it. I got myself into this mess, and I’d stick it out while I dug myself out of it.

I was cleaning up my dishes when I heard keys jingling in the front door. It had to be Grace since our third roomie went home for the summer break. There was a strange thought living in the back of my head that she may not return. I wasn’t nearly as close with Avery as I was with Grace, but the fact that she basically just up and left one morning without more than a wave concerned me.

Shit .

If we had to split rent two ways instead of three, that meant I’d have to come up with more money. I had briefly thought of the possibility before, but denial was a comfy couch sometimes. I’d curl up there and pull the blanket over my head and pretend whatever was going on right in front of me wasn’t really happening. There were days it was my only hope of coping.

“Clemson? You home?” Grace called through our one-story house.

“Yeah. In the kitchen!” I shouted back.

When she walked into the room and dropped her stuff on the table, I asked, “How was your day?”

“Good.” She smiled. “Productive. Got everything dealt with that I wanted to, so that’s good.”

“That’s great.”

“How was practice?”

“Excellent. I’m beat now, as usual.”

She was quiet but followed me with her gaze as I put my dishes away. I knew she was dying to ask about the messages but was trying to temper her excitement. I could see the emotion in her entire body. She was nearly vibrating with it.

Finally, she shifted from one foot to the other and blurted, “Have you looked?”

Laughing, I said, “Not yet. I was starving when I walked in. Plus, I was waiting for you.”

Her face lit up like the Eifel Tower at midnight. I was glad I said that to her, even if it were only partly true. It made her feel important and giddy, and that mattered more than anything else.

Yep. I am a people pleaser.

“Where’s your laptop?” she asked, bouncing up and down now.

“Okay, calm down, sister. What if none of them responded?”

“Just go get the damn thing so we can see. I don’t know how you haven’t looked at your phone all this time. I’d be glued to the thing.”

“That’s exactly why I kept the notifications silent. I can’t be doing that shit while I’m at practice. They ride us about everything, and I’ve seen more than a few teammates get extra laps for being more concerned with their social lives than their split times.”

“Assholes,” she mumbled as I went to my room. Like a little duckling behind its mama, she followed right up my ass, so when I stopped abruptly inside the door of the space, she ran right into the back of me.

“Shit, sorry,” she said.

I just laughed and began emptying my practice bag. I needed to hang up my damp towels and soak my suits so the chlorine wouldn’t destroy the fabric.

“Oh. My. God.” Grace punctuated each word dramatically. “What are you doing?”

“Hanging up my wet stuff. It will be musty and smelly by morning if I don’t. And I swear, you never get that stench out of a towel once it’s in there.”

Grace wasn’t interested in my laundry tips at the moment, though. She plopped down on my unmade bed with a heavy sigh while I filled the sink in my bathroom with warm water and added some vinegar from the big gallon jug I kept below it.

“Okay, let’s see what we’re dealing with here.” I sighed as I sat down at my desk.

She scooted the little stool from my bathroom vanity up beside me and waited while I logged into my account.

“Oh, this is crazy,” I muttered as the page loaded with a bunch of new messages. These were initial contacts, like the list we went through this morning. There were at least as many as before.

“You’re a popular girl,” she teased.

“Solei warned me the first few days would be heavy like this. I don’t think it will be like this every day. There’s no way to manage it if so,” I said, shaking my head at the monitor.

“Let’s come back to these,” Grace suggested, pointing at the list. “What about the four direct messages you sent back? Have any of those guys replied?”

I clicked into the next screen and found three of the four men responded. The one I was most attracted to, Brian, was the first on the list.

“Ooooh, the hottie was quick,” my roomie noticed.

Opening his message, I smiled as I read the words. He was very upbeat and friendly and asked a few more questions about what I liked to do for fun and what I was hoping to get out of this experience. He mentioned, if I was comfortable, he would like to see a photo I hadn’t posted on my profile. Something current, maybe even a selfie from today.

I scrunched my face up after that. I looked like a drowned, tired rat at the moment. There was no way I’d send him a real-time photo. But I scrolled through my camera roll and tried to find something I could send.

Grace leaped up from the stool with enough excitement for both of us. “I have a great shot of you from the beach the other day. Let me grab my phone, and I’ll send it to you.”

“Not if Luke is in the shot, though,” I called after her.

Admittedly, I was new to this sugar dating, but my gut was telling me that having a guy in the picture wouldn’t go over well. A lot of the men said in their profiles that they didn’t mind if I had a significant other, but again, that just felt weird to me.

The picture was cute enough. I was sure the men would like it because I was wearing a bathing suit. My toned, tanned body was on full display in the shot, and my legs looked a mile long. The only complaint I had about the pic was my hair. We had been at the beach for hours when she took that shot, and by then it was piled in a messy nest on top of my head.

After typing a quick response to his question and attaching the photo, I hit Send. I was completely honest why I was looking to get into this type of arrangement by my mentor’s recommendation. She’d told me the men like honesty and don’t want to play games. That’s why a lot of them get into this too.

From a middle-aged man’s perspective, finding dates or a relationship with very clearly outlined parameters cuts down on wasted time getting to the desired outcome—companionship. Most of the agency’s clients, according to Solei, list that as the number-one reason they are looking for help being matched up with dates. They just don’t have time to go out and meet women, let alone spend the extra time figuring out if they are compatible.

Fair enough. It all made perfect sense to me. I wasn’t a big fan of the first few dates with someone new, either. I liked the excitement and newness of the process, but not investing a heap of time getting to know a guy just to find out how wrong my first impression was.

We moved on to the next direct message in the queue. This was from Jonathan, the average-looking guy in finance. He was a little more direct with his comments and questions and not as friendly as Brian. Maybe it was the difference between their ages, but there was a completely different feel in their tones. It was something intangible, but Grace picked up on it too.

“This guy seems a little pissed off, doesn’t he?” she asked with her head cocked to the side.

“Definitely different than Brian. I think maybe it’s the age difference?”

“Or maybe he’s just a dick?”

“Could be. But I don’t think he’s being a dick. He’s just to the point.” I shrugged and typed out a response to the man, trying to be as direct as he was but still friendly. In a way, I liked his communication style more. I didn’t feel like I had to put a lot of effort into small talk.

“Oh my God!” Grace shouted, pointing at the laptop. Her outburst made me choke on the huge gulp of water I just took.

“What?” I finally got out after clearing my throat.

She was on her feet now. “He’s writing right now! The first dude—Brian.”

“Okay. You have to calm down, sister. I just nearly choked over that.”

“But in real time!” she shouted, still overly excited.

I swapped screens into his message thread.

Hello, Clemson. Thank you for responding. Do you have time to chat a little?

Hi! It was my pleasure, and yes, I can talk right now.

Great. How has your day been? What are you up to?

Okay, so we were literally going to talk like regular people. Up to this point, all of this has felt very transactional. It was easy to forget these were real people at the other end of these profiles and messages.

Day has been a good one. Busy, but good.

Yeah? What have you been doing?

I had practice this morning and then just spent time around the house.

That’s right. You’re a swimmer, right?

I am. It’s a big part of my life. Takes up a lot of my time.

I figured I’d be upfront with these guys. They had to know I had commitments I couldn’t get out of. Swimming would always come first.

I have to be honest. I don’t know much about competitive swimming. Is there a competition season? Have you been swimming your whole life?

Yes, I’ve always been into the sport. Family teases me that I’m part fish. I like to think mermaid, but that’s another conversation. wink

It couldn’t hurt to test his sense of humor, right? Grace chuckled when I wrote that, so it seemed like a safe comment.

And yes, there is a season, though we practice year-round. Mid-October through mid-March is our regular season, culminating with the NCAA Championships.

Got it! Maybe I’ll be able to see you compete sometime.

Maybe…

We talked for a little while longer before he had to go. I liked what I knew about him so far and felt comfortable setting up a meet-and-greet if he asked. Grace felt positive about the exchange too, and we clicked back into my response to Jonathan.

“You know, this is exhausting already,” I complained.

Usually, when I had a boyfriend—a regular boyfriend—I ended things when they got needy or too demanding of my time. How the hell was I going to manage this if I had to continually talk to more than one guy at a time? Maybe it was time to set some limits on this adventure so it didn’t consume my life.

I ran the idea past my friend, and she listened to my thoughts and added something that made it seem manageable.

“Clemmie, think about it. This is just going to be like this until you pick one. Once you establish an agreement with one of these guys, it’s going to be just like having a boyfriend.”

“You’re right, but then again, that’s what I’m worried about. I have issues with too much of my time being taken up by other people.”

“Well, you need the money. Bottom line. You may have to make some adjustments to what you can give of yourself.”

“Very well put, my dear. Thank you for being my partner in this. I’d be lost without you.” I gave her a quick hug.

“I think the sooner you pick one and get on with it, the better,” she said and stood to put the stool back near my vanity.

“You’re absolutely right. I’ll definitely meet up with Brian if he asks. I’ll send replies to these others right now, but I don’t know if I can go through that many in the introductory queue like we did this morning.”

She paused in my doorway and said, “I think you kind of have to until you get involved with your guy. You don’t want to let the right one slip through your fingers.”

“Ugghh,” I whined and pretended to bang my head on my desk.

“I need some food, but I’m here to help. Let me fill the tank,” she said patting her belly, “And we can work through that list.”

“Girl, what would I do without you?” I asked, and truly meant it.

Grace smiled. “Lucky for you, you don’t have to find out.”