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I created my profile and uploaded pictures of myself.
Nothing too crazy or screamed, "I'm on here to have reckless sex and get flown to party in Miami Beach every weekend!
After accepting, I was relieved when he pulled up sporting more casual clothes this time.
Given the very proper, business-like nature of our first date, I was caught off-guard when he asked me to go get breakfast a couple of days later.
I existed to make dinner for the kids and provide an open ear when he needed to vent.
After 15 years — six of which involved intensive marriage counseling — I finally decided to walk away.
Not when I was 21, and certainly not as a 51-year-old divorced parent of three.
Perhaps it was my Roman Catholic background that shaped my views on relationships and love, but I used to think the sugar-daddy-sugar baby dynamic was silly and taboo.
Now that I think of it, he threw in an extra $500 every now and again — you know, just to be nice. It wasn't about neon-colored Camaros, colossal diamonds or nights at five-star hotel suites.