Well now raise your hand if you like receiving up to 100 messages a day from blokes on the other side of the world thinking that you are either :
A) The madam of some "sugar mumma" website who finds women for those needing someone to pay for all their sh*t
B) An actual "Sugar Mumma" yourself, obviously holding auditions to find the perfect toy boy. To find this man, you create a website, that even though it is about healthy eating and stories of your family, this translates to "Yes, I am open, to spending my pay on some dark prince on the other side of the world
C) A dyslexic blogger who instead of swiping right looking for quick hook ups, keeps accidentally typing crap about Rice Malt Sugar and Satanic Children. But is totally open for receiving messages that would make a tradie, in a jackie howe singlet, on a night out on the piss with his mates blush.
This has been my life for the last couple of months. Ive tried so so many things to stop the constant messages. They would never stop but they were becoming less frequent. However it all came to a head in the first week of the school holidays when my 8 year old son, who was playing maths games on my phone (ok, that was totally made up, he was actually taking selfies as a dog on my snapchat) yells out to me:
"Mum you got a message come up on your phone, it says " I want you sex, i be good for you, thank you sugar mumma".
He then innocently looks at me and says "I think its from Uncle Dan, but I'm not sure cause he looks a bit black.
Ok, I'm close to my brother buuuuut not that close.
I literally would have broken the world record for long jump, as I was able to leap a good 2metres from the couch to the kitchen table and pluck the phone from his hands with all the grace of a drunk giraffe. In doing so I smashed the phone into the 8 year olds face, which then led him to burst into tears... but wait for it, not from the pain of a phone being smashed into your temple but because he didn't get to save his snap chat dog selfie and it was apparently a dalmatian one and he has never got to be a dalmatian one before.
I was so pi$$ed off that my 8 year old son, who luckily still thinks that sex is kissing and that babies come out of your belly or rumour has it in the year 4 playground, that they may come out of your bum .......had to be subject to the crap from having the word "MUM" in the same sentence as "SUGAR" for my blog.
So I have spent a good month and a half trying everything I could to stop the constant stream of men looking for a free ride from the other side of the world.
It was blatantly obvious that the only thing I could do was change my website name but apparently that is virtual suicide in the blogging world, once you have a following of people reading your site.
It was either start again from scratch and hope people followed or run the risk of my son telling people that Uncle Dan was maybe his father.... yeh I think I will go with the first one.
(No doubt my brother is reading this vomitting in his mouth a little and swearing he will never go out in sunlight again, so his skin is as white as humanly possible).
My new site name which has not gone live yet, will be
No doubt I will now be getting messages from nigerian men thinking I am running some kind of adult adventure playground where women throw money at them because thats what women love to do.
I swear to Rice Malt Syrup that if I get one message saying " I want to adventure you in the sugar", then I'm going to jump on a plane, and fly kick a muther fructose in the face.
So prepare for bulk posts, as I try and get this new site running.
Hopefully www.sugarfreeadventure.com will be up and running in the next 24 hours
Much love (but not that much love, especially not to Uncle Dan)