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  I’ve established I don’t want to be a “trophy wife”, but a “cougar”?? I have had quite a few experiences with twenty something year old guys hitting on me.

One of my favorites: I was out with a few friends for “Wing and Martini” night. It was getting late and everyone was leaving. As I was walking out I heard someone say “excuse me, ma’am?” I turned and saw a boy (yes, a boy) sitting at the bar. He then asked if he could buy me a drink. Buy me a drink? Is he old enough to buy a drink- he looks 12. Maybe he has a fake ID? I wonder if he is a friend of my daughter, or maybe I know his parents. So, I asked him if I knew him. Nope, he just wanted to enjoy my company and buy me a drink. Sweet, in a puppy dog kind of way. I held back the urge to laugh, thanked him politely and went on my way. If you are going to call me Ma’am, then I am too old for you.

Another good one: My friends and I tend to frequent the same places, and over time have gotten to know the same people. The day before Valentine’s Day a 26-year-old boy asked me to be his valentine and go out for dinner. I honestly thought he was joking. I made a lame joke about it. He pouted and hasn’t really spoken to me since…

The enlightenment: I was sitting at a bar and an older guy bought me a drink. I laughed at the bartender and said “Yup, this is what I get. They are either in their 70’s or 20’s. I don’t understand.” The bartender decided to explain why younger guys like the “older” women. I always figured the young guys thought women in their 40’s are in their prime sexually, and that’s what they were looking for. The bartender assured me this was not the case at all. He pointed to the cute little hostess and said, “See that girl?  She’s been blowing up my phone all day”. Apparently that means sending too many text messages. “I can take an older woman out to dinner and have intelligent conversation. An older woman understands I’m in school and working. There isn’t all the drama that 20 something girls bring.” He explained.

Hmmm, makes sense. He works. He’s in school? So I had to ask him how old he was. Yup, twenty-three. Oh my god, my daughter will be 22 this year. I finished my drink and left. But, it made me think. Not that I would ever be with a boy in his 20’s thats kind of like being a pedophile. I’m not Mrs. Robinson. And by Mrs. Robinson, I mean the one from the movie with Dustin Hoffman- Not Fifty Shades.

I repeated the conversation with a male friend, thinking the kid had a point. My friend laughed and said the bartender  wanted to get in my pants.

So does the fact that young guys hit on me make me a cougar? I decided to some research. I found a definition on-line.

Cougar  : An attractive woman in her 30’s or 40’s who is on the hunt once again. An older woman who frequents clubs in order to score with a much younger man. The cougar can be anyone from an overly surgically altered wind tunnel victim, to an absolute sad and bloated old horn-meister, to a real hottie or milf. Cougars are gaining in popularity — particularly the true hotties — as young men find not only a sexual high, but many times a chick with her shit together.

An early example of the cougar phenomenon was seen in the groundbreaking film The Graduate, in which middle-aged Mrs. Robinson (Ann Bancroft) seduces fresh-out-of-college Benjamin Braddock (Dustin Hoffman).

Real-life cougar relationships include Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher (15 years), Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins (12 years), and Barbara Hershey and Naveen Andrews (21 years).

Ok, I am not “overly surgically altered” or a “sad and bloated old horn-meister”.  A “hottie or milf”… maybe.  I can remember hearing the term Milf “Mother I’d Like (to) Fuck” during my daughter’s teen years. Just saying…

I am definitely neither prowling nor hunting. I am not stalking down my prey and ready to pounce on the first young victim I see. I am not attracted to someone who is my daughter’s age or my friends sons age… it’s just wrong.

So just because I’m in my 40’s, does not mean I am a Cougar…


Mr Slick…Date Two…







After my awesome first date with Mr. Slick…I texted him the next day.  “Thanks, I had a really nice time”.  It took a few days, but Slick texted me back. I saw the text; I knew it was from him, I instantly had butterflies in my stomach. He had been very busy with work, but we set up a date for the following week.

The day of my date came. I prepped. I was extremely nervous! In fact I stopped at a friend’s house on the way to have a drink and say hello. We talked about how long it had been since I was on a decent date or anything else…. I was excited… who knew what may happen…I really kind of liked this guy. Then I went on my way, with the promise to text my friend and let her know how it went.

When I got to the restaurant, Slick was at the bar. I smiled.  He said “you’re late”.

I frowned, “No, I’m punctual. In fact I am exactly on time. It is 7:30 on the button.” He checked his phone and low and behold I was right. Now I get the “hello, how are you”

Ok, whatever, I order my drink. We discuss the food and what’s good. He tells me what he thinks I would like. That’s nice… but I have been here before and order what I know I would like. I think I saw a little frown in his eyebrows… Odd. He checks his cell phone several times and answers a call even. I find that rude. My phone is off. Business. He needs to take a few calls. Ok.

He starts to tell me how stressful his job is. Between all the travelling and deals he is working on. He said he felt like the guy at the circus, balancing and spinning plates. “But you’re just a hairdresser, so you really don’t know stress do you?” he said.

Seriously, those may be fighting words. “Let’s see…. I was a wife, a mother, ran a household while simultaneously owning and operating two separate businesses. JUST a hairdresser? Two businesses inventory, accounting, payroll, invoices, dealing with staff at two separate places hiring/ firing… I could keep going.  Umm yea I think I can comprehend stress even though I’m just a hairdresser”

He changed the subject. He started discussing college. He was in the top 2%of his class. Oops cell again. I have another drink while I wait for him to finish. Call done. … He graduated Magna Com Laude. And then, I think he actually smirked and asked “did you do the college thing?” Really, REALLY? Is he being condescending toward me? I am a business owner, I am well-known for my involvement in the community, and I volunteer. What I did for education 20 years ago doesn’t define me as a person.  I am jerked. I get quiet. I think he is a big douche bag! And at 46 if his claim to fame is college well that’s sad. I have far more accomplishments than that.

I guess I started to look annoyed. Again he changed the subject. I think he even tried to apologies. Rambling, about men sometimes sticking their feet in their mouth. Blah, Blah Blah. Over time I softened. The rest of the conversation went well. However the words were still in the back of my head.

It was time to go. He walked me to my car and gave me a kiss. It was nice. Then he asked me where I lived. I told him just 5 min. away. He asked if he was going to get to come by and see my house. I guess he didn’t learn in college if you are thinking of getting somewhere with a woman you shouldn’t insult her…

I smiled oh so sweetly, cocked my head and replied “see my house? Hmmm, not on a second date” And with that I got in my car and left.

Confused. How could someone have the perfect first date and then be a douche bag on the second. Maybe it is just stupid guy talk and he didn’t get how insulting he was. He was so nice before…

I text my friend: the eagle is going back to the nest alone….

Mr. Slick…The First Date

First date with Mr. Slick.  Time to shop. Red is supposed to be a power color. Studies have been done that men are attracted to red. I like red. I look good in red. I buy a red  dress.  Off the shoulder, clingy in the right spots (but not slutty),black stockings and hot black boots. A power outfit.

I meet him at the restaurant. As usual I show up 15 min early so I can get a drink and chill. Again, my date’s there before me. Fail, I’m going to have to start leaving my house earlier.  Sigh, here goes. I walk up to him do the “hug, kiss, say hello”. He asks if I want a drink. I’m quite nervous and would love me a martini as we wait for our table and make small talk.

We chat as we wait. By the time I finish my Cosmo, the hostess is ready to seat us. As we walk to the table I am realizing I didn’t eat lunch, I’m feeling my Cosmo, and I think Slick is staring at my ass as I walk. I try to walk sexy and not trip. I think it is a success.

Slick asks me if I like wine. Doesn’t everyone?  He orders a $120 bottle of wine and starts talking about which vineyards are better than others. I find that to be a little pretentious. In my experience, people who talk to impress are usually full of shit. But, the wine comes and it’s yummy.  He proceeds to tell me that he comes to this restaurant often and knows the menu by heart. He asks if I like salad. I laugh and tell him I may be 105 pounds but it’s not from eating salads, I like real food.  He asks if I like sea food. I do.  The waitress comes over and he orders for the both of us.  Hmm I never had anyone order for me before.  He’s a take charge kind of guy. I think I like that. It’s a nice change; I used to have to tell my ex-husband what he would like on a menu and what to order….

The meal comes. I have lobster, shrimp and clams in a pink vodka sauce over linguini. He’s pulling out all the stops. It’s delicious.  The conversation flows as freely as the wine. We talk about our kids, touch briefly on divorce. Talk about our jobs. And then he asks what my goals are in life.

Huh? My goals? Do I have goals? I may like another glass of wine, but I don’t think that’s where he’s going. What the hell? So I smile politely and ask what he means. He replies, “you spent the first quarter of your life doing what your parents wanted you to do, and then you spent the next quarter doing everything for your child and husband. Now that your daughter is grown and you’re divorced this is the time for you. So what do you want?”

Wow, I think that is profound! This is my time! I am woman hear me roar! Ok, maybe I won’t have another glass of wine. He makes so much sense! Although I still don’t know the answer. So again I smile, thank god for a good smile, and tell him I haven’t given it much thought….  He looked deep into my eyes and said, “I have long-term goals and short-term goals. I do  know in the very near future I want to kiss you”

My stomach got butterflies. I think I may have giggled in my head. How sweet. I don’t know what his long-term goals were because I wasn’t listening to another word he said. I was thinking of him kissing me. Cute. It was a perfect first date! He walked me to my car. And I got a hug and a kiss.

When I went home I told my 21-year-old daughter about my perfect date. Her response was, “Oh, Mom- he’s a player. Watch out!”  “What? No! He even gave me a cute little nickname! When he gave me a hug, he spun me around and said I really am little- I’m a spinner.” I told her.

My daughter looked at me as if I were an idiot. Exasperated she exclaimed “don’t you know what a spinner is?” Uhh no, but the way my kid is talking to me it can’t be good. “Mom, it’s a girl a guy can put on his lap and spin!”

Oh, yea not so good…. But never mind that, the rest of the date was awesome, and I’m going to have a second date….

How I Met Mr. Slick




I was sitting at a restaurant bar with two of my friends. I had a crush on a guy I had met a few weeks prior. He was there. I was scoping him out. I asked my friends what they thought of him. One of my friends answered “Never mind him, check out the guy in the striped shirt that just walked in.”  Ok, cute… but still checking out my crush.  And wouldn’t you know the guy in the striped shirt sat next to Crush Guy.

My friends and I were laughing and talking, I occasionally glanced at Crush Guy.  After about an hour the guy in the striped shirt was suddenly standing in front of me. He looked me in the eyes and called me by my name. My first and last name. Umm, Oh shit, I thought, do I know him? Was I drunk and don’t remember? Should I be embarrassed?

Tentatively, I asked “Do I know you?” He said “No, but I know about you. I’ve done my homework and asked around.”  Hmmm, I looked him up and down, yea he’s good looking.  But what did he hear about me? Who did he ask? What does he know? Ugghhhh was I drunk, those damn martinis!

So as cute as I could, I cocked my head and said, “I’m sure you have only heard good things…” “How could it be anything but good? “, he asked. The playful banter continued for a little bit. Then he said “There’s one thing I do know …” I answered, “Really what’s that?” He replied, “I want to take you to dinner.”

Oh, I was totally caught off guard.  We were only talking for about 20 minutes.  The way he sauntered over. Knew things about me, his smile, his confidence…He was slick.  I was definitely intrigued… I agreed. I gave him my number.  And that’s how I met Mr. Slick.

So I wondered would he call? When would he call? Will he follow that “3 day wait before calling rule”? Oh I hate the wondering and waiting part. In fact if any men are reading this…”wait three day” thing is bullshit. We meet you, and we are excited the next day thinking about you. Day two it kind of fades…Day three we are not caring so much. No need to go out the next day… but the call or text is nice, we don’t think you are desperate.  Just saying….

So… by day five, I had figured it was just bullshit and he wasn’t calling. Then, he called. It was good timing. I was on my way home from my failed Muffin Man date. Anyone would have sounded fantastic.  He wanted to take me to a very nice upscale restaurant. My dates may suck, but I do seem to be eating very well! So, we make plans, I’ll meet him.

My first date sweater hasn’t been working so well for me. I think this calls for a new outfit. Oooh I’m excited. I’m not sure which I’m more excited about… shopping or Slick.

I guess we’ll see….


I was going to post about my second date with the Muffin Man. However, something else came up… It does have to do with being divorced…

I had a bad divorce…Ok raise your hand if you had a good one… But, I did get the house and all the crap and maintenance that goes with it. Lucky me. Yes, that is sarcasm you are reading. I have a pool. Lovely. I never wanted a pool. I grew up with one, that was fine. I didn’t want the expense or the upkeep that a pool requires as an adult. I lost. I have a pool.

Being married I may have lost the battle, but I won the war.  I refused to do anything with it, I didn’t use it. Maybe twice a year I would go in.  That was it. I would much rather go to the beach stand in the ocean and splash water on myself to catch a tan. I don’t like getting my hair wet. Go ahead make fun. I just don’t. I’m not prissy- I’ll fish, touch dirt and worms and garden. But I don’t want to swim.

I won the war. There are casualties in war.  I am divorced. I own the pool. In the fall I had to “close”the pool. That ment going to the pool store with my pool book and asking for help. I had to vacuum, clean, half drain, get a blow up pillow and tie it in the middle of the pool, add chemicals remove the filter and some other plastic crap… Oh, and cover it. During the winter I had to regularly pump water off the cover so it wouldn’t collapse. Now it’s time to “open” the pool. Why? To not use it? To have to clean the leaves and other shit that floats in it once a week? I don’t have enough to do, I need another chore? If I don’t open it then I’ll have an area of stagnant water in my yard where mosquitos will breed and infect my entire town with “Triple E” (Eastern equine encephalitis virus)! I don’t even know what that is except I think horses and people die! Nope! I will sell the pool ! Craig’s list here I come! I list it. I wait. I list it again. OOOOH I get a response!

Wayne Scott wants my pool! Yay! He wants to  buy it for his Uncle. How sweet. He can’t come and see it because he is out-of-town planning a wedding… Ok. Can I send a picture? Of course.  “Hey,  does your Uncle want a piano?”, I asked jokingly. Wayne asks how much? Really? Can I be that lucky? So I shoot him a price. He offers me $100 less than I’m asking for both. Wow and I was pricing both high anticipating the haggle. Almost to good to be true!

And e-mail 13 drops it. A problem. No? Really? Wayne NEEDS my help. Oh, the moving company NEEDS  $960 up front. Yadda, Yadda.  He’ll send it to my pay pal account. Suuuure you will. I tell him fine would LOVE help you out! What? You NEED me to go to Western Union for you? Oh you want me to front the money to you? Sure No problem….Oh ps: does your uncle need a bridge? I could sell you one. Or maybe an Island? Did you want to bend me over?

What is wrong with people?  Who listens to this crap. Is it like online dating…Is Wayne  playing the numbers? Sending out countless e-mails untill some poor soul bites? He wasted my time with 13 e-mails just to turn out to be something other than he said… Seriously selling a pool turned out to be like the bad date!

Honestly, I would prefer to be kissed before someone tries to screw me! Oh and does anyone want a pool??

Do You Know the Muffin Man?

My J Date membership may have paid off. I got an e-mail from a 43-year-old good-looking guy. Seemed intelligent, very well-travelled, extremely into health and fitness, good job… we did the back and forth e-mail thing. Of course he doesn’t live within a 25 mile radius of me, we have already established there are no eligible Jews in my area. He lives about an hour and a half away. I agree to meet him half way. He picks a very nice seafood restaurant. I’m impressed and a little excited.

Cute “red date sweater”, sexy shoes, hair, make up… I look good. Drive the 45 min. A little nervous. I always try to show up 15 min early so I can get my wine and relax a bit. Ugh, it was kind of hard to find the place, even with GPS. Parking was even  tougher. But I made it!  I walk into the restaurant and head to the bar.

Fail. He was there first. Oh and ummm I think he’s aged 10 years and thirty pounds since his last picture. What’s up with that? Not that I have anything against a receding hairline (I actually think bald is sexy) it just wasn’t receding in any of the pictures…  And I’m not sure how he’s running those marathons or climbing mountains with that extra weight. There is no way he works out 5 times a week. He’s not fat. Just soft and mushy around the middle- in fact it’s kind of like a sloppy muffin top. Not a beer belly. A muffin top. I don’t think I’ve seen a muffin top on a man before, just teenage girls who wear their pants too tight.  Odd, but I’m not dating just for looks. His profile was interesting. I was intrigued with his e-mails, he seemed cool.  So he’s using and old picture- not a crime. We say hello and grab a table.

Small talk. Driving. Traffic. Work. Yawn. What I thought were cool one sentence answers through e-mail, now translates to boring and dull in person. In reality he had the personality of Matzoh. That dry Jewish holiday cracker that should have been left in Egypt when that shit didn’t rise, and now we are forced to eat it on Passover.

Conversation was getting strained… I was trying…. He told me he that was never married, came close once, but thought there might be better out there. Dumped her, has regretted it ever since and tries to measure everyone up to her. Really? Ok soo he’s a commitmentphobe who sets everyone up for failure. Fun. He did have two dates with a girl six years ago. Wow! Six years ago! Since then the rest of the girls have told him there was no chemistry. Really? No kidding!!! I wasted good hair and my “red date sweater” for this????  Well, the salmon was good. It’s late. I’m done.

We go to leave the restaurant. As we exit I turn to go to the right and he starts to go to the left. I laugh and tell him I’m parked over this way around the corner, in the alley next to the bar. He said “Oh, ok, goodbye”, gave me an awkward hug, and walked away… he didn’t even walk me to my car… All the Non-Jews have walked me to my car. I am insulted. The one Jewish guy- not walking me to my car? I told him it was in an alley. Really ? Humph! My mother would say not a mensch!

*Mensch (Yiddish: מענטש mentsh, from German: Mensch “human being”) means a person of integrity and honor.

Another fail? Come on?  Am I destined to be a “One-Date-Wonder”? This dating could make me meshuggeneh!

Meshuggeneh – (Yiddish) a crazy fool

No Shirt = Red Flag, Asshole

I receive a “match” e-mail. The picture is hot. But he’s shirtless… We know what that means… Do we? YES into health and fitness! Never mind what my friend/ psychologist says “shirtless is a red flag-  he just wants sex. What does she know? She only went to school for a degree.  I’m sassy. I’m single. I have training wheels, and he’s hot. His profile is nice. Never been married. In his late 40’s? Red flag?  Doesn’t want to play games.  Looking for someone who feels like an old friend. Sounds good. We e-mail back and forth. Decide to meet at a nice restaurant.

He was at the bar. With a sweater he didn’t look quite as buff as picture. But oh well. There was a seat empty for me. Gave the kiss hello. Because that’s what you do, and sat down.  I ordered a glass of Cabernet. We started to chat a little.

We do the “how was work” talk . Then he tells me someone cheated on him once so he has trouble trusting people. Oh, Ok. Not all people are cheaters. My ex cheated but I don’t think all people do. Why start off thinking the worst of people. Red flag? He asked me if I cook. I told him no. I cooked for my family because I felt it was nice to sit down every night for dinner. But my daughter has moved out, and I never enjoyed cooking.  His answer was “you’ll cook for me”.  I laughed at him. “um, no I won’t- I don’t enjoy cooking.”  He said “we’ll see”. Another red flag? Is he trying to be funny? I don’t think he’s funny…

He asked what I do during the week. I laugh and smile. I tell him I’m a very busy girl. On Tuesdays I play trivia at a local place with the girls. Fridays I have a group of friends (who are like family) that I go to dinner with. And Sundays I have “family” dinner at a friend’s house.  He then actually says (almost with a gangster accent)   “when you’re with me this Tuesday, Friday, Sunday stuff will end”. Is he joking? Trying to be funny? Is he high? I don’t even know his last name. He is going to dictate how I spend my week? Red flag? I don’t even know how to respond. I ignore the asshole comment.

We chat some more. It’s late. I need to go. He walks me to my car. He tells me if I want to go out again to call him. I smile and tell him no, I’m not comfortable with that. If he wants to see me he has to call. That’s just how I am. He shrugs and walks away.

I go home. I’m confused. One minute he is nice. The next he seems like an asshole. The next day he texts me in the afternoon “so what are you going to cook for me tomorrow”.  I respond “a second date doesn’t qualify you for a meal- lol”. He doesn’t respond. Confused again. Whatever. The following day he texts me “call me”. Is this a game? I said I don’t call. He’s forcing me to call? What is he an ass? I don’t get it. I’m annoyed at this point.

I finish work. I go home. Put on my comfy jammies and eat some leftovers. Then I call. He asks what I’m doing I tell him I just got home and ate. He gets angry and said “I thought you were cooking for me tonight?”  I tell him “I believe I told you I don’t cook. And a second date doesn’t warrant cooking”. Even more pissy he informs me that we had plans.

Plans? Really? If we had plans I wouldn’t be in jammies- I’d have hair and make up done. I would look cute and know where I was going! Ok one date and this has become more BS than it’s worth. Am I actually arguing with someone I don’t know? I tell him there must be some miscommunication. He says, again with attitude ”maybe, you should check your busy schedule and let me know when your free.”  I reply “I’m not” and hang up.

Should it BE this difficult? So my friend was right… No shirt = red flag. He wasn’t looking for sex, just to control my life. Hmm late forties and not married… BIG surprise!

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Brass Balls

A couple of months ago I was enjoying a martini with a friend of mine. I happened to notice two guys across the bar. One was hot, the other ok. I did the “glance over, look away, look back and smile”. It worked, they looked at me and whispered to each other. And then no, #fail! The unhot one starts walking over to me.  Great. He came over and introduced himself. He said he was there with his son. Fail again, I think the son is hot and I get the father….

He tells me he saw me on He said he sent me an e-mail and I didn’t respond. Oh, I vaguely remember looking at his profile. I didn’t respond. Don’t men get that no response IS a response. Now, I have to shoot him down twice. I’m polite, yet obviously uninterested. We chat, we know some of the same people , work in the same area…then, he returns to his side of the bar.

A couple of weeks later I see him again. He starts to talk to me and tells me he is interested in me. But he needs to “shed” some things before we go out. Umm who said we were going out? He proceeds to tell me about a girlfriend he is involved with, although he hasn’t had sex with her in two years. Yea, I believe that- what man goes two years without sex?? And did I really need to know this?  Well, apparently he has a trip to Aruba planned with her in two months and will break up for her after. Will I wait? I laughed and said two months is along time.

But honestly let’s just break this down for a second… He has a girlfriend and is trying to pick up other women. Strike one. He says he hasn’t had sex in two years with her- obviously a lie. Strike two. He can’t break up with her until after the trip. A man not getting sex isn’t BRINGING a girl to Aruba. That means she’s paying, he’s a gold digger- strike three- you’re out!

This weekend he came up to me again. I introduce him to the two men  that I am speaking with. Later, when they were gone, he came back over to me and asked why I blew him off.  What? I was polite and made introductions. He said it made him jealous.  Jealous, who is he to be jealous? He told me he has seen me at my work when I stand at the counter bored. Ok, I never stand around at work- I’m very busy, and why is he trying to see in my shop any way. He then says he saw me and my girlfriend at a red light and I ducked down in her van to avoid him. Ok, now I’m getting annoyed.  I don’t own a van and neither does my friend I tell him.  Also, I am way to sassy to “duck down”.

Just when I think he’s hit creep factor he brings it to a whole new level. He asks me to go into the coat room with him. Are you kidding me! I tell him I don’t have a coat I’m all set. He says, “Let’s go in there to talk. “ We’re talking just fine out here”, I replied. I’m getting a little snotty by this point.

“Maybe, I want to kiss you”, he replies.  I am truly disgusted.  What am I in 7th grade? Like, I’m just about to go make out in a coat room. Are you kidding, this is what a 50 something year old man comes up with. I tell him, thanks anyway, but you have shedding to do. He thinks I’m funny. Not sure how snotty and sarcastic translated to funny. “How, bout we test the waters” he says.

Umm, how about NO. I tell him “the waters are cold” I turn around and walk away.

How can some one even have the “balls” to ask such a thing?  Do men ever grow up? Are there women out there who would go in the coat room?  I may be wearing training wheels but I am not playing 7 minutes in the closet!

Fabulous Fruit Fly!

I’m in Chicago on business. The first night was a bust.  The second night I go to the hotel bar with some  people attending the conference.  Everyone was really nice. We have a drink, and a few of us discuss go out on the town. Two guys say they are going to a gay strip club. In unison another girl and I exclaimed we want to go! A Gay Strip Club? Never been, but sounds like fun. Looking at hot dancers, and nobody will bother us because we are straight!

We change, we grab a cab, we go.

As my eyes adjust to the lights I find myself staring at the men. They are all gorgeous! I have gay friends, but again never been to a gay club, or actually in any club in almost 20 years. Let me tell you the stereotypes are true! It is not a myth! They are hot! Buff! No matter what age man I looked at abs, butts, not one beer belly or muffin top. I start to nod, I smile, do the sexy look. Oh wait it’s a gay club- there not looking  at me. Oh well.

I tell the guys I’m with that I’m jealous, Straight places don’t have this much to look at! “maybe they’ll think I’m a transvestite” I say.

“oh no, honey, they figure you’re a Fag Hag or a Fruit Fly! But both of you are fabulous Fruit Flies!” he says, about me and the girl from the convention. Fag Hag? Fruit Fly? He explains:

FAG-HAG (n.): A non-homosexual female who likes consorting with homosexuals because they make her feel special, desired and beautiful. Usually she is none of the three.

FRUIT FLY (n.): A women who is seen in the company of homosexuals although she is not homosexual herself. She is often pretty, attractive and maybe even beautiful.

OOOH, Ok. I’m a Fruit Fly. I’d rather be a Fruit Fly than a Fag Hag! I’m good with that. The bartender brings me my drink and screams “Darling! I’m not a trannie, but those earrings are FABULOUS!”

TRANNIE (n.): A cross-dresser, usually male wearing female attire, and adopting characteristics that are feminine.

Loving this place! I’m a fruit fly with fabulous earrings! I’m having Fun! The scenery is Fantastic! The dancers are Ferocious! This place is Fierce! And then I meet “Sheila”.

Sheila loves my shoes! Sheila is a trannie. I am catching on. Wasn’t a difficult guess. Sheila is about 6’4, not a great wig, black dress and to die for boots- I’m guessing size 13. Sheila does have better cleavage than mine. She informs me that her Doctor put her on new estrogen shots. I wonder if I can get some? Sheila and I are becoming friends. Sheila and I go for a cigarette break. There is another woman and man outside. They like my shoes, I like her shirt.  The compliments are flying. This is great! I mean Fabulous!

Then, Sheila whispers for me to stop talking to them. They want a triangle. Huh??? “a threesome”, she whispers. OOOh I don’t need that explained. Done talking to them ‘cause Sheila said so! We go back inside where my new friends are still watching the show and having a fabulous time.

Sheila turns to me and says, “Honey, do you want to be a Lesbian tonight?” Umm what? Umm, huh? What did she say? Does she mean me and her? Really? Oh, sooo not happening! And is that even technically possible?

For some reason I suddenly develop a  southern drawl and respond, “Why, Darling, I CAN’T be a Lesbian tonight! Don’t you know? I am a Fabulous Fruit Fly!”

So in Chicago I have come to the realization it doesn’t matter if they  dress in drag, or are old and drool, boys will be boys, and  hit on you!

Wine With A Viagra Chaser?

I was talking about my upcoming business trip to Chicago. One of the regulars at a place I go said he was going to be in there at the same time. Being originally from Chicago, he offered to show me Michigan Ave and take me out to dinner while I was there. He’s a nice older guy. Probably mid to late 70’s. My Dad’s age. He even drools a little. Not my Dad- the guy.

I think it’s cool. But, I’m a little wary. I ask my mother, she thinks it’s very nice, he sound like a very nice man. Ok. I’m good.

I ask some friends. They laugh and say he probably wants to get a little.  No, he’s old! They tell me that’s why they make Viagra. ICK! I guess that means I don’t get to accept any gifts on Michigan Ave? My friend says not unless I want to do “old balls”. Gross.

I don’t really believe everyone. He’s a nice old guy…. So, I go to Chicago. He calls and says he’ll pick me up at my hotel at two. He came straight from the airport. Odd- I thought he was supposed to be there a few days before me. After I greeted him and got into his car, he pulled into the hotel directly next to mine. Very odd, he told me he usually stays in the city which is half an hour away. Oh well, we get in a cab and go to the city.

He brings me to a hotel. He wants to get a drink at the hotel bar and we can look across Lake Michigan. Well, Ok, that’s cool- it’s one of the great lakes. But it is 2:30 in the afternoon. I’ve been up since 4 am, traveling, and haven’t eaten. One glass of wine.

We walk up to Michigan Ave. He takes me into The Drake Hotel. Again that’s weird. We have another glass of wine. Getting a buzz.

Finally we go to check out some shops. I keep trying to make conversation, but this is just strange. He wants to watch me shop? I don’t even know what to talk to him about. Finally I talk about my Dad. They have a lot in common. Both in the army, both in sales, and both used to go to the same hardware shows. Probably the same age. This is just awkward.

We go into Gibson’s Steak house. Finally FOOD. Nope. Fail! Another wine. Really? Three glasses- not so good. He has the biggest booger hanging. That’s all I can do is drink wine and stare at this booger.

I follow him into another bar. Hugo’s Frog Bar. Still haven’t eaten. I have a glass of wine. We start talking to a nice lady. He orders her, and me, another glass of wine. I have about half and go to the ladies room. When I come back- my glass is full. FULL not like they normally pour, but to the rim. Is that like 2 glasses of wine, or 3. And how many places have I been. I’m trying to count how many glasses I have had. I need two hands, I’m having a hard time counting… Oh I’m shit faced. I need food. I enlist the help of the woman to suggest places to eat. I really wish she would come….I’m drunk. I’m drunk texting my friends. I need advice- clarity… My friend thinks booger says boner. I’m in the ladies room laughing by myself.

We go into a restaurant. At this point I don’t know or care about the name. He orders a bottle of wine. OH NO! All I want is to eat and go back to my hotel alone. I order a sandwich, I need bread. He pours the wine. I drink the water. He goes to the bathroom. I pour my glass into his. The man at the next table laughs. Hmm in my drunkenness I wonder if he is trying to get me drunk? It takes me this long to figure it out… I drunk txt my friend. She tells me to say I don’t feel well and go back to hotel. I’m drunk, I listen.

On the way back he tries to put his arm around me in the cab. I may vomit. It would serve him right. We get to the hotel and he gets out of the cab. OH NO!! I tell him “stay in the cab your hotel is over there”. He laughs and says he can walk. I may be drunk, but I know where this is going. I’m younger, I’m spry! I’m faster! I smile big, and then slur something about having to be up early in the morning and run! Yup, I ran.

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