Inside the downfall of Malaysia’s biggest sugar daddy platform

When Afrina heard in February that the dating app Sugarbook was to be banned by Malaysian authorities, she curled up in a ball and cried. 

The 20-year-old journalism student had been seeing her sugar daddy Amir for nine months. A “happily married” father of five, he had signed up as a premium subscriber on the platform and had conversations with around 20 potential sugar babies. He’d decided on Afrina. She was his type, he said: a college student in her early 20s who made him laugh. They met for the first time in a Hilton hotel suite last May. She was so nervous, she couldn’t help giggling as he laid out what he was looking for in a partner.

“For me, it was strictly sex,” Amir told Rest of World. “I’m very upfront with the ladies about it, and, to be honest, I think most prefer the arrangement to be purely physical.” 

Amir had conditions. He wanted sex, once or more per week, and complete discretion. Afrina had to keep her hair long and her fingernails unpainted. She wasn’t to drink alcohol, smoke, or get a boyfriend. In return, she’d get a monthly allowance of around $1,000 (4,000 ringgit). She could stay in his apartment and occasionally drive his car. There were other gifts — including clothes, books, a laptop, and a phone. As she talked to Rest of World, a huge bunch of flowers arrived. Her parents used to cover her expenses, but now she sends a little money home. She tells them it’s from a part-time job. What Amir gives her lets her save, pay rent on her own apartment, and, once in a while, splash out on designer brands.

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