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  • Writer's pictureAideen McQueen

How I became a Sugar Baby

Six years ago, I decided to become a sugar baby.

I’ll be straight, my life wasn’t going as well as I’d hoped it would be back then.

I was struggling as a stand up comic in small clubs of London, which led to me staying up late and drinking. I'd hobble into work the next day as a primary school music teacher where I’d conduct classfulls of recorder players who’d scratch away at my soul. I’d go straight from work to gig to some random man’s house and then back to work, fuelled by vodka and pork scratchings and held together by an ever diminishing hope that I’d make it as a standup.

The love of my life had just moved back to America and I’d adopted the philosophy that “in order to get over one man you must get under another” sometimes I’d go home with a man out of sheer lust or intellectual attraction, other times it was because it was cheaper than an Uber home.

I was teaching in a tough school in South London, that was vetted by OFSTED to be in “Special Measures” With inspectors breathing down our throats all the time it was hemorrhaging pupils and teachers. By the second half of my second year, I was one of only two teachers who’d been there for over a year. I think they only kept me on because I knew the combination codes for all the storage cupboards.

Moral was low, parents weren’t happy, teachers were stressed and the pupils picked up on it all. When we did any kind of collection for charity nobody had the spirit or the disposable cash to give much. But there was one parent, a very glamorous eastern european lady, in her late thirties, who had two children in the school. Whenever you asked for money she’d gladly open up her Gucci handbag and give you a wad of twenties. She was clearly beautiful with a tiny waist, huge breasts and big pouty lips. She always wore a beautiful Burberry coat and a smile.

One afternoon as the kids were being collected I handed her son over to her and she thanked me kindly as usual, and turned and left. Then the classroom assistant leaned over and whispered in my ear.

  • You know she’s a prostitute.

Wow! I thought .... I want to do that!

Now, I did my research and I realised that this wasn’t going to be that easy. How would I even list it on Linkedin? “A passionate, Creative, Hands-on Director of Physical Release”?

I was a middle class, University educated woman, I don’t remember Prostitute or escort being listed on my UCAS forms. I really didn’t know how I’d begin. I googled it and found that most women worked for themselves; they'd have profiles with the most amazing photographs of beautiful women with perfect hourglass figures and beautiful faces, asking for up to £800 an hour at the higher end of the market.

I didn’t have quite what it took in the looks department to join the ranks of the likes of Gigi and Ivory (none of them are called Brigit or Shiobhán) but I did know I had that most Irish of resources as the gift of the gab. I could talk the legs of a chair and I had another thing on my side - very low standards due to drink!

At the time there had been a few exposé docs about Sugar Daddy sites, such as seeking arrangements, which aimed to match young women, usually students who had financial needs, with powerful, wealthy men who would help them achieve their goals. These websites sell the idea that they simply introduce the men and women to each other and that whatever the arrangement you came to would be completely up to you. Seeking arrangements PR is good. They portray sassy, sexually confident ambitious women who are looking for kind, handsome older men who want their company in exchange for “sugar” in the form of gifts, and allowance or mentorship.

You will always here miracle stories such as “I was totally broke, struggling in College, then I met Derek and I went on one date and he paid all my tuition fees for the year”

The critics of such sights dubbed it as glorified prostitution where young women were being exploited.

I decided I would have to see for myself. Why not? I was broke, and partying every night and sleeping with unsuitable men I didn’t fancy anyway! Why not do that and get some money in exchange.

Besides I was a stand up comedian and as a comedian, you always have your eye out for a good story or experience, looking back I was completely detached from my feelings, looking only for angles and scandals to use in my set. As a comic I used to say, even if you get broken up with it will hurt … but you will get good material out of it

“Lose a bloke - gain a joke” was my motto or

“Bad shag equals a good gag!”

So I bought a half bottle of whiskey, got on the train to go to a gig and started to register my profile on

Here are the things I learned, the people I met and the experiences I and others had while I trawled the internet for old, rich dick!

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