SUGAR DADDY
MY 18-year marriage would not inspire a classic love story. We spent long periods apart.
He was a private chef for a Swiss family, a job that required him to work abroad for months at a time. The family travelled frequently and he accompanied them. When our son was younger, the three of us travelled together, but as my husband became increasingly immersed in work, we were left at the main family residence for long periods. It was often lonely. My son was a talented singer and needed the stability of one schooling system, so he and I came home to South Africa. My husband and I had already grown apart by then and we considered splitting. But we both valued our history, and the fact that we were a collective – emotionally, socially and financially. It was a kind of love. We were a family.
I was aware that things were ‘off’ with my husband from time to time. He would pacify me and tell me he was just tired from travelling and staying in soulless hotels. He always protested just a little too
