SugarDaddyForMe.com
What the fuck? I spend ten hours a day online, and I had no idea pimping yourself out for grad-school money to intellectually and emotionally stunted MBAs was now legal. One thing strikes me as I watch their ad: the company's customers are all really, really smart. Enlightened, even. The ad screams Zen mastery and self-knowledge.
Alternet has an interesting article up on what it's like to be one of the girls for SugarDaddyForMe.com, which has been around for a few years. Were bangbus and goatse to have an Internet love child it would seem healthier to me than this cultural seepage:
"There is actually no stack of cash large enough to persuade me to have sex with this guy, but as his income is listed as "more than $1,000,000," I feel slighted. I ask why he uses this website if he's not prepared to dole it out, and he says regular dating sites don't cater to his preferences regarding age or "sensuality," and that the young girls on Craigslist are all unclassy whores. This statement is followed by an offer of $500 to "get into" my "cooch."
My double vodka doesn't do nearly enough to muffle his egotistical blather ("Enough about me," he says 20 minutes in. "Tell me about you. What do you think about me?") or the commentary he provides about his, um, girth. My roommate -- charged with checking in on me -- texts, "If he gets you the guacamole egg rolls you owe him a BJ. Also, ask him if I can have a pony.'
When I arrive home to a houseful of twentysomethings, we rail against the lowball. The lone male in the group asks, "Would it have made a difference if he'd been attractive?" Nobody answers for a second. "Probably," I concede, and everyone reluctantly agrees; we are all sex-positive feminists here, offended not that he offered me money for sex, but that he offered so little and was so gross, and if the idea of doing him were palatable, and I were single, it's possible he'd be doing double duty as my boyfriend and payroll officer."