I look up my blog stats from time to time to see who’s linked me, and sometimes they have pretty fun blogs I think we all deserve to read. Wannabe Sugar-Baby is pretty cool. It’s got a nice outfit, is compulsively readable, and very real. Gold-digging is not something you do in cold blood, it would seem. Plus, she’s called Tiffany. Who can resist…?

The truth is, I have never, I swear not even once, actually actively tried to look for a Sugar Daddy. It would be nice if they were falling out of the skies (after mass banishment for de-paving heaven’s roads to exchange for money) or growing on trees, but finding them really is more like panning for gold. In other words, not easy. I just want to have fun anyway, and although the idea of having someone pay me through an expensive foreign degree is extremely alluring, I’m still not going to bother to look for it. I always seem to get what I want anyway, without actively doing much, aside from being nice. And anyway, at the end of the day, there’s still Daddy. (The biological one, whom I have just discovered is back from India. He was simply not keen on celebrating Deepavali in Hyderabad. My mother says it's a terrible thing for him to have gotten the project there, because it's just overboard with the paganism. I love the quirks of human culture, but when they go against my own spirituality -the clean, quiet, idol-free monothesitic sort- and I have to be around them for weeks on end, I can see how they would induce queasiness. But nonetheless, I'm still pestering him to let me tag along, on the next trip after my finals.) *apology made on this completely bigoted, flippant statement!

Anyway, I’ve kept up quite well with Dan, the yank who picked me up at the KL international airport nearly a month past. I had given him my cell phone number then, along with my email, and promptly forgot that I had. Two days ago, I got a couple of missed calls. It turned out to be him calling from São Paulo (one of the cities in the world I am absolutely dying to visit!), we talked for a bit. Apparently he’s written two books, and I did a run on Amazon just for the fun of it, and they do carry his titles. I was slightly boggled. He’s coming back to Asia sometime early December I think, and we’ll work things out then. He dresses like a slack, but I’m pretty sure he’s loaded, and not tightfisted about it.

I honestly don’t know what I want to get out of it, but hey, much-older-men have to make up for their lack of youth by having two distinctive characteristics: More world-smarts (it’s just like street-smarts but in terms of frequent flyer miles, among other things) and money. Not in that order, but mandatorily together. All that, can be equally as sexually attractive, and we all know the why from a biological, evolutionary standpoint!

We had an odd conversation about getting gooey blueberry cheesecake eaten off my naked body. For a trip to São Paulo, with what seems to be a pleasant enough person (who’s also written two books, although I doubt they are the sort I’d want to read; and anyway, everybody’s getting published these days), having blueberry cheesecake eaten of my breasts is a price I’m willing to pay.

Oh for Christsake’s who am I kidding.

It’s not a price, even.

I really do like blueberry cheesecake.

I’ll call Luce and see if he wants to meet for tea at this Uber cool looking Victorian Tearoom at the Esplanaid. I wish it were in a cozier location though! Have I ever mentioned the inordinate delight I take in drinking chamomile tea out of very finely decorated china?

xoxox