It happened on my 27th birthday.
Not the fancy kind with candles and friends. Just me, scrolling through Seeking, eating leftover noodles, pretending the silence didn’t sting.
That’s when his message popped up.
Not “hey beautiful,” not “what’s your rate?”
Just: “You look tired. Are you happy?”
I stared at it for a full minute.
Because no one had asked me that in years — not my ex, not my coworkers, not even me.
I told him, “That’s a weird question for a stranger.”
He said, “Maybe, but it looked like no one else was asking.”
He was 45, divorced, soft-spoken. The kind of man who talked about his teenage daughter like she was a miracle.
He said he wasn’t looking for anything complicated — “just someone to be kind to.”
Our first meeting wasn’t glamorous. A diner off the highway, cheap coffee, him listening more than talking.
He didn’t flirt. He asked questions — about my job, my mom, my son.
When I told him about the debt, he didn’t judge.
When I told him I hated my life sometimes, he said, “You’re allowed to.”
That night, when I got home, I cried.
Not because he was sweet — but because I realized I’d forgotten how to be treated like a person, not an arrangement.
He became part of my weeks.
Texts in the morning. “Did you sleep?”
Voice notes at night. “Drive safe, okay?”
He never made it about money. I did.
Because I needed the money — but I also needed what I couldn’t name.
And sometimes, those two things start to blur until you can’t tell which one you’re addicted to.
One night, he asked again, “Are you happy?”
I said, “I think so.”
He smiled, the kind that feels like sunlight after too many cloudy days.
Then he said, “Good. That’s all I ever wanted to buy.”
It ended quietly, like most soft things do.
He got a new job out of state. I told him I understood.
We promised to “stay in touch,” but the messages slowed until they stopped.
Sometimes, when I’m driving home after a long shift, I think about that first question — Are you happy?
And I still don’t have a clear answer.
But maybe that’s okay.
Because he reminded me that I’m allowed to ask it again.
End line:
Some people don’t stay to love you — they just remind you you’re still worth asking about.
Top Comments
[midnightcoffeeaddict]
This broke me in the best way. The line “he just reminded you you’re worth asking about” is so quietly powerful.
[softboundaries]
I had an SD like that once. It wasn’t love, but it healed something. Sometimes, that’s enough.
[truthandregret]
You didn’t need him to fix your life — you just needed someone to notice it existed. That hit hard.
[skepticalandsoft]
I can’t tell if he was genuine or just good at playing the role, but maybe it doesn’t even matter. The impact was real.
[exsugarbabydiaries]
It’s wild how many of us entered this world for survival and ended up rediscovering feelings we thought we lost.
[lonelySDthrowaway]
As an SD, this made me think. We all pretend it’s transactional because that’s safer, but maybe we’re all just trying to be seen without judgment.
[quietchaos88]
That question — “are you happy?” — is the kind of intimacy that no allowance can buy.
