The Vampire's Sugar Baby

Chapter 3

My first day of apartment hunting had been a bust. Everything was either too small, too expensive, or in a questionable neighborhood. I know I’m a 6-figure photographer but you have to understand, that a third of my earnings go to advertising and sessions/products/makeup and hair, a third goes toward taxes, rent, and bills, and another third I pay myself.

I didn’t want the whole day to be a waste. I wanted to embrace this new city and try everything. I sat on the chaise lounge and pulled out my phone. There was a Dallas City Event app I had downloaded, so I decided to check it out. Listed were concerts, networking events, family events, and speed dating. I’d only been to a speed dating event once in Tampa. This Greek restaurant hosted them on Valentine's Day. One of my hair and makeup artists dragged me along and, while I didn’t make a connection with anyone, it was still pretty fun. At the very least, it was a good excuse to get dressed up and go meet people.

They were hosting an event that evening at 5-o-clock. I had a few hours to get ready. I went into my bedroom to look for an outfit. Unfortunately, I haven’t done much shopping since the weight loss, at least for date clothes. I did have one nice romper that was a bit big that I bought after the first 100 lbs loss. I laid it out on the bed. I also had a nice-ish pair of sandals that would go alright with the outfit. No jewelry though. I had never been much of an accessories kind of girl, and while I did have quite a bit of jewelry and shoes, they were all set aside for my clients, and I hadn’t had them shipped to me here in Dallas yet.

One thing I had become pretty talented at was doing my own makeup. You don’t make it as a 6-figure photographer and not pick up a few tips from the makeup artists you work with. I poured all my makeup out of my bag and started with the eyes. I rubbed primer on both lids and gave myself a brown smokey eye. I didn’t have any fake lashes so I swiped some mascara on and darkened my eyebrows a bit. One thing I have always been complimented on regarding my looks is my skin. I remember skinny girls in high school who would tell me they were so jealous of how clear my skin was. It always made me uncomfortable for some reason. However, I’d never taken the time to psycho-analyze why girls who could get dates and had skinny bodies and weren’t bullied for their weight, telling me they were jealous of me, made me uncomfortable. I covered my face in foundation and contoured my neck, cheeks, forehead, and nose, and applied a little bit of my favorite pinkish-brown lipstick. I plugged in my flat iron, pulled my hair out of its ponytail, and gave it a good spray with my dry shampoo. I brushed it out and styled it.

I looked at my phone and knew it was time to leave.

This was my nightmare. I could really use some alcohol, damn gastric sleeve, and it was only my third date of the evening. Already I’d had one guy who reeked of smoke, had terrible teeth, and lived with his wife who he was separated from. The second guy barely looked me in the eye and when he shook my hand he barely touched 2 of my fingers, and now I had this incredibly creepy 22-year-old who had called me sexy about 3 times and switched from sitting across from me to way too close to me with his hand on my leg.

Finally, the host walked by to tell us it was time for us to switch partners. Thank god! Before my uncomfortable interaction with my latest date was over, he said he’d find me after the event to get my number. I prayed he’d find someone else to get fixated on.

My next date sat down as I checked “no” for the third time. When I looked up, I was pleasantly surprised. He was attractive, had a great smile, and was dressed well. He was around my age, maybe a year or two older. He introduced himself as Sam.

“So what brings you out to speed dating?” He asked me.

“I actually just moved here. I wanted to get out, maybe meet some people.” I smiled. He was really cute.

“Cool, I just moved here too, a couple of months ago for work.”

“Oh, what do you do?” I asked.

“I’m a middle school teacher. I teach Math.”

“Oh very cool!” A normal man, thank you!

“So what do you do?”

It was at that moment I realized I’d quite possibly screwed myself.

“I’m a photographer.”

“Oh! Nice!” He smiled.

I began silently praying to myself, “please don’t ask me what I photograph, please don’t ask me what I photograph…”

“What kind of photos do you take? Weddings? Families?” s**t.

“Boudoir…” He looked confused.

“ OK, what is that?” I took a deep breath.

“I basically photograph women in lingerie.” His eyes went wide.

“Oh! Wow, that’s so cool!” I relaxed a bit.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I love stuff like that, like really artistic stuff, and that’s beautiful, especially when you have the right models.” My brow furrowed.

“The right models?”

“Yeah, you know, like real models. Not like these regular women who are trying to look like a model after popping out 3 kids and 50lbs later.” He made a face before taking a sip of his drink.

What a total d**k.

“Actually, I was the top boudoir photographer in Tampa because I photographed primarily women who had multiple babies, and gained weight because the whole point of boudoir is to help women love their bodies as they are, so they can move on from horrible judgmental things they’ve heard throughout their lives.”

“Oh,” my date suddenly looked nervous, “yeah, that’s good. Women need to feel good about themselves. That’s a really special thing you do.” He tried to backtrack, but I was already steamed.

“Yes, it’s very good, because god forbid, any woman who has been through something as traumatizing and intense as childbirth and gained weight due to dedicating her life to raising children has the unfortunate chance encounter of meeting men like you. There’s someone like me to help them get back their confidence after having it shattered.”

He refused to make eye contact with me after that.

At the end of the hour, I ripped my card in half. What a day. I nearly stood up before I felt someone staring at me. I glanced over to the bar and the creepy 22-year-old had his eyes locked on me. Suddenly, I felt scared to move. He was waiting for me. I couldn’t believe that after 8 dates he was still fixated on me. Surely all the other women weren’t as dull as the men had been. I called the host.

“Hey there, what’s up?” He smiled before looking down at my card ripped in half. “Oh no, you didn’t meet anyone?”

“Um, no, but actually, that guy standing by the bar…” the host turned his head to look. Ugh. Great, just what I needed.

“Yeah, what about him?”

“He was my third date and his behavior was really creepy. He told me he was going to wait for me at the end of the event to get my number but I don’t want to give him my number.”

“Oh, he’s not supposed to do that.”

“Yes, I know, but he’s waiting and I don’t want to talk to him.” The host nodded.

“No worries, I’ll handle it.” I watched as he turned back toward the bar and approached the guy. After speaking for a few seconds, he came back.

“I told him he’s not supposed to ask for women’s numbers, he’s just supposed to put his matches on the card, and he said he knew. He’s just having a drink by the bar.” I glanced over and could see him, his eyes locked on me.

“Okay.” I said, feeling defeated. He picked up my torn match card.

“Is this your first time at speed dating?” The host asked me.

“I’ve gone to an event before, but this is my first time here.”

“Well, I’ll be honest, you’re a gorgeous girl, and I’m sure you have a lot of men after you, but 5 minutes isn’t enough time to get to know someone. It doesn’t hurt to give people a chance, even if you aren’t initially attracted to them. Out of 8 men, I’m sure one of them would have been a great potential match if you gave them more of a chance.” I sat there dumbfounded.

“Could you just do me a favor and distract him so I can leave and he won’t follow me?” The host sighed.

“Sure.” The host went to the bar and started speaking with the guy, so I hurried out. I didn’t know how long he would actually bother to distract him, so as soon as I got out of the bar I briskly walked down 2 blocks and around the building before I stopped to order a ride back to Alison’s car.

As soon as I was in the car, I called Alison.

“Hey girl, where you at?” She asked.

“I’m downtown. I went to a speed dating event, don’t ask.”

“Oof, that bad, huh?”

“Yeah.” I brushed my hair out of my face. I was still a little shaken from worrying if that guy had followed me.

“I’m downtown too. Let’s meet up!”

“Okay.” I said, “I’m catching an Uber back to your car.”

“Good call! Parking in Dallas is hell at night. Send me the location and I’ll meet you.”