Confessions of an (Almost) Hollywood Sugar Baby

October 9, 2012 by OneWorldLiberty  
Published in Dating

PBS Producer and Award Winning Journalist Chantal Boccaccio goes undercover – or rather – Under The Covers.


Confessions of an (Almost) Hollywood Sugar Baby

By Chantal Boccaccio

 It was a near-perfect first – and last – date.

On the ride over, there was some weird but vague chit-chat about my helping him write a coffee table book, (the details of which I can’t recall, save something about senior citizens and sex, and it would have to be written in a big font).

My “date” was a  67-year-old inventor  who had recently struck it rich selling a formula for a female lubricant to a major pharmaceutical company. His dating profile claimed he was 37, and that night he seemed true to all his (fabricated) young years as he beamed down at a glowing Stevie Nicks crooning “Sarah,” a mere two feet below us.  He had told me we were going to a concert. What he neglected to mention was that it was a reunion of Fleetwood Mac, and our “seats” were a sprawling suite with a full bar and a feast that would make Caligula drool. 

He had also neglected to mention that he would have an entourage on our date: his “Wealth Management” team, and three young girls whom I imagine had been procured through one of LA’s escort magazines. They latched on to me early, since I was the only non-banker girl there. And I had gum.

It was quite a sweet scene: me, my 67-year-old personal-lubricant-inventor date and our three 20-something call girls arm in arm, holding our cell phones high and crooning along with a glowing Nicks.

A nearly perfect first date.

On the way home, he whispered the words that every Sugar Baby longs to hear: “You’ll never have to worry about money again, babe. Call my girl in the morning and I’ll have her wire five grand into your account.”

Alas, those lovely words hung in the air like three-day-old fish when “his girl” politely informed me a week later that my Prince in Dimpled Armor was in federal custody for trying to hide his Personal Lubricant Money in the Cayman Islands.

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