My friend Noah has a sugar mommy. The two of us were unemployed and struggling, but somehow, Noah had a better life. He bought new things every day and could afford Uber when we went out. He had a new iPhone when I knew he couldn’t even afford data. He would pass by my place some evenings with food that smelled like it was cooked by angels. He would tell me, “Me and old lady went out. I got you this.”

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I asked him, “Your old lady doesn’t have an old lady friend she can give to me? Looking at my life, don’t you think I also need an old lady?”

He laughed it off and rather told me God would do it, so I should look to the face of God. I replied, “When you waited on God, He gave you an old woman, is that what you’re telling me? Tell God I want what He did for you.”

I’m not a lazy graduate, far from it. But after school, the two of us tried everything in the books to get a job, and it didn’t work. Noah was looking for a job when he landed the sugar boy role in the sugar mommy’s life.

He made it look easy, judging by the places he visited, the photos he shared on Snap, and the food and cool new gadgets he owned. He wasn’t bad to me, he shared. Even when I needed money urgently, he was the one who came through for me.

One evening, he called and told me, “Dress up for this evening. Don’t dress like a teenager. Dress mature. Sugar mommy is taking me to a place. She says I can bring my friend.”

I borrowed a belt and a responsible-looking pair of shoes from a friend. I asked Noah, “Should I put on a flying tie or a bow tie?” He insulted me: “Put on a car tyre. Did I tell you we were going for a job conference?”

I did my best to look cool. It was just a hangout between Noah’s babe and her friends. They all looked mature but cool like people who had accepted their age and place in life but still wanted to have fun. Noah introduced me to his babe. Her name was Helena. When I called her “Aunt Helena,” she gave me a piece of her mind, saying she wasn’t my aunt and I shouldn’t refer to her that way.

Her friends came to me one after the other, asking about me and what I was into. Only one, Matilda, asked my age and took a seat next to me. Though she left later and didn’t approach me again, after the night ended, she gave me her number and asked me to call her sometime.

Noah said, “That’s how it starts. Be a yes-person, and the rest will fall into place.”

The first call lasted only one minute. When she called another day, the conversation lasted longer. A week later, we met. She looked deep into my eyes when she talked, like she was searching my soul for her missing keys. I tried my best to make her laugh, but it turned out it wasn’t easy to make a woman almost thirty years older laugh. My jokes sounded too modern for her to connect, but we made progress.

The first night I spent with her, she took me to the bath and asked me to bathe with saltwater. She said, “You young guys are always in such a hurry, you don’t even bathe well. Wash everywhere clean before you come close to me.” I responded, “Yes, Mom.”

She liked being called “Mom.” She said no one would suspect us if I called her that, and she loved hearing me say “yes” without protest.

Before I went to sleep next to her, this woman split my lips open with her thumbs and said, “Open your mouth. Let me see your teeth. When was the last time you saw a dentist?” She scanned my mouth, looking for reasons not to kiss me. She said, “You’re seeing a dentist tomorrow. You can’t be kissing me with this.”

She had fantasies, and she knew I was the one to make them come true. I thought I knew better when it came to intimacy, but this woman proved vintage and knowledgeable. We would do blindfolding today and tie hands tomorrow. She had names for all of it, and whenever we chatted, that was all she talked about.

One evening, she said we should try the whip lash. She tied my hands behind my back and made me sit on the floor in my birthday suit while she lashed me and spoke nonsense into my ears. I can’t go into details, but it was crazy. At some point, the lashing became too painful, and I told her I wouldn’t do it again. When she untied me, I couldn’t even maintain an erection.

We dated for over three months, and I hadn’t experienced the lifestyle Noah was used to. Yeah, she gave me small money now and then, but we didn’t go out, we didn’t visit fancy places where angels cooked the food, and I didn’t get gifts or phones. Nothing. So I called Noah: “Bro, how long does it take before the money starts coming?”

He was shocked I was asking that question. It turned out my sugar babe wasn’t like Noah’s. There were levels to it, and I got the wrong side of the cane. When Noah advised me to ask for money and material things, I took his advice and started asking. I even brought my mom into it, saying she was sick and admitted. She sent me GHC200 and said that was all she had. Eiii!

I had to address the issue, so one night after the salt bath—before the action started—I said, “Mom, I have needs ooo, but it seems you don’t look in that direction. I’m not working, and I need help. Even if you can link me to a job, I’ll be grateful.”

She got angry and said, “Why would you bring up such a topic at this crucial moment? Am I not doing enough? Didn’t I send you GHC200 two weeks ago? If you have needs, go to your mother. Don’t you have parents?”

She sacked me from her house. The salt bath was in vain. I called Noah on my way home: “Bro, this sugar babe you gave me diɛ, chale, if I’m not careful, she’ll start asking me to send her money urgently ooo. Chale, I’m done. I’m tired of saltwater baths when all I needed was sugar.”

I cut Matilda off and decided not to contact her again. But this woman went through Noah’s babe to get to Noah, asking me to reconsider and call her. Noah used the opportunity to tell his sugar babe everything I’d been through. He said Helena laughed her head off and told him to warn me not to talk to Matilda again. Helena even sent GHC2000 to be given to me. She was traumatized on my behalf.

Call a Friend and Ask For Thousand Cedis (A Prank)

So currently, I’m back to square one, diligently looking for a job. Noah’s babe has promised to help, and she’s the one I’m counting on. So yeah, that’s how I met a salt mommy on my way to look for a sugar mommy.

—Magoo

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