I need to start from the beginning. Maybe if I write it down, it'll make sense. Maybe I'll wake up and this will all be a nightmare.

I grew up poor. Like, really poor. Single mom, two jobs, food stamps poor. My father was never in the picture — Mom said he was a one-night stand. A mistake. She didn't even know his last name.

"Good riddance," she'd say whenever I asked. "We don't need him."

I believed her. I built my whole identity around not needing anyone.

Then college happened. Scholarships covered tuition, but not living expenses. I worked three part-time jobs and still couldn't make rent. My roommate suggested a "solution."

"Sugar dating," she said, showing me an app. "Rich older guys pay you to hang out with them. Some want more, some just want company. Easy money."

I laughed it off. That wasn't me. I wasn't that desperate.

Three months later, facing eviction, I made a profile.