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THE COUGAR…


  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…

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Am I A Trophy????


Age, is it just a number? I don’t think so. I’m in my forties. Forty-one to be exact. When I think of the correct age demographic for me I feel it should be around 40-55 give a few years in either direction.

So what the hell are men thinking? I’m just saying. I go out, and the men hitting on me are either in their 70’s or 20’s. That’s a big stretch. So I should be a trophy or a cougar?

I do love my old men. Just not in that way. I see them out. We chat it up. They buy me drinks. Just so you know, every so often I buy them one back. They say I shouldn’t. But, hell it’s just good business. I get 10-1 on my investment. The other girls just accept the drinks and move on because these guys are old. I enjoy their conversation, that’s all. I buy them a drink to show I’m a friend and that’s it. Not sure that point is getting across though. One of my older friends told me his other friend was interested in me and he was putting out “feelers” to see if I felt the same.

Umm huh? You mean the guy with white hair who winters in Florida and is retired and I have heard him speak of a girlfriend? Sooo my friend says, “OOH the girl friend, yea he’s done with her spending all his money” Ok we just dropped the hint that he has a lot of money. Well, I don’t hang out in shabby places… “how old is he?”, I asked. My friend says 71. SEVENTY ONE???? Come on? Really? My Dad is 78. That’s just wrong. So very sweetly I respond “he seems like a very nice man…but I just think that’s a stretch…”

When prompted I explained, 20 years from now I’ll be 61 and if he’s not dead he’ll be 91, I would either be taking care of him or starting over…

The response: “thats what the problem is with women, they are always thinking of the future. Live for today!”

HA!!! Had I thought like this 20 years ago, I wouldn’t be where I am today! I feel my best years were wasted. I’m 41. Yes, I am working really hard to keep my stuff looking young. But, I have a window. I won’t look like this forever. This shit is going to fall at some point. I don’t want to be doing this again in 20 years. At my age I can’t afford to waste  time. And not for nothing…I’m not a gold digger. I can’t just have a guy buying me stuff. I work hard for all I have. I feel that it is  just using someone to go out with them for a little while to get what you can out of them. It would be bad karma… It’s wrong. An,d when I was much younger I worked in a nursing home. Just saying…I know what that shit looks like and there isn’t enough money in the world for that! ICK!!!

Old is sometimes too old. I have found the 40/50-year-old men are looking for women in their 20/30’s. Do they realise these women want families and children? So that leaves me the 60/70 year olds? I think not.

I would rather stay home alone and read “Fifty Shades Of Grey”.

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….

The Muffin Man Act I Scene II


I decide to go out with the Muffin Man (who I met on JDate) for a second date.   No, I am not a Masochist. I just wonder if it’s me. Am I too picky?  Why am I a “one date wonder”? He e-mailed me. He’s interested, how bad can it be? Maybe he was just nervous on the first date… We arrange to meet at a nice restaurant in the city. At least I’ll have a nice meal…

The bar is full. Not one seat open. Fail. Oh, there’s the Muffin Man.  Mr. Muffin has a seat at the bar. I walk over and say hello. He asks if I would like something to drink. “Sure I’ll have a glass of Cabernet”,  I say.  He does not offer me his seat. Awkward. I steady my purse, on the crook of one arm, while trying to hold the napkin and wine he has clumsily shoved at me. I can’t even take off my coat during this balancing act. Finally the man next to my date offers me his seat. I smile sweetly as I decline. “I enjoy standing”, I say. Hindsight, the correct answer should have been” Thank you it’s so nice to see a REAL gentleman”. Mercifully the hostess came, our table was ready.

I can finally take off my coat. I’m wearing a cute grey dress and some fabulous black high heel boots. I notice a few men glance in our direction. Yes, I am making the Muffin Man look good. I think he is oblivious though. Oh well. We discuss the ride here, traffic and the weather. Freakin’ fascinating.  He then asks, “Do you know why it’s strange there is a sports team called Utah Jazz? They were originally the New Orleans Jazz before their relocation.”

“That’s interesting, but I don’t really follow football.”  I found out later that the “jazz” team is basketball. He then told me all about the “Cardinals” who moved from Chicago to St. Louis and, finally, to Phoenix. All while keeping their name. “Umm, I really don‘t follow football”, I said again with a smile. He must not have understood me because he continued to ramble about which sports teams have relocated; I think he listed seven or more.  I couldn’t care less. My mind wanders. I feel he is socially awkward, I have now diagnosed him with Asperger’s disorder (an autism spectrum disorder that is characterized by significant difficulties in social interaction, alongside restricted and repetitive patterns of behavior and interests). It’s a big possibility. He is now rambling about retractable domes, and which stadiums have them. You lost me at “cardinals”…

My veal is excellent. I try to discuss food, the resturant… any common ground… What was it his other dates told him? That’s right… no chemistry!  I’ve got your chemistry… mix orange flavor vodka and a splash of cranberry to endure this evening! Finally! Dinner is done, we have the check, and this painfully boring, lifeless, mundane date is over!

We walk outside. He asks me where I am parked. I used the valet. He tells me he is around the corner, he’ll call me….and then, he LEAVES. YES LEAVES! I don’t know where the valet guy is. It’s cold and dark and my date has left me alone on the city street AGAIN! Who does that! The audacity! I have never had someone be so rude. Is he just that ignorant? Even friends make sure everyone is in their cars and the cars are started!

You want to talk football? Here’s your football, I am throwing in a “penalty flag” for bad manners! There won’t be a rematch! My defense is unstoppable. There will be no scoring on this field! Too bad for the Muffin Man! My offence is pretty solid too. I’ve heard I have a nice tight end! Humph!  He has been benched, taken out of the game! So run, run, run, just as fast as you can! You won’t catch me Mr. Muffin Man!

I WOULD PREFER TO BE KISSED, BEFORE SOMEONE TRIES TO SCREW ME!!


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??

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words


In on-line dating I am guilty of scrutinizing a picture.  Cosmo magazine said “you are only as good looking as your worst picture”. Not only do I check out all pictures to see what a guy looks like, I also check out the background- what kind of house, furniture or whatever else I may see.  If the house needs painting does that mean a guy is lazy and will never get around to doing things? If the furniture is from the 70’s does he live with his mother or just have bad taste? Am I over thinking things? Can you really tell that much by a picture? Apparently you can tell a lot about someone from their picture.  A friend/ psychologist told me how to “read” the pictures:

No shirt- means he’s looking for sex

Holding a fish in front of him- He already has I barrier up

Standing behind motorcycle- Same as fish

Only pictures of finishing a marathon, triathlon, or bike race- Too into themselves / fitness won’t make time for you

Crossing arms- Not ready to let someone in. *oops,I am guilty of that, but thought I looked cute

No picture- Married

Picture with a dog- Anyone who likes animals is a good person. *whew, I have that picture too

Took their own picture (in a mirror or their arm stretched out)- means they can’t even ask one friend to take a pic for them so they are anti-social.

So not only do I have to read through all the profiles, I have to “read” the pictures. Who knew there was so much to a picture?!  What about the other pictures? What do they mean? I do see a lot of pictures of men in their cars. Not next to them- IN them. I don’t know what that means. Why are they taking pictures in their car? Do they look in their rearview mirror, think to themselves “hey, I’m looking handsome today” and click away at the next red light? I don’t get that one. There are a few pictures with the fake tree or grey marble back ground that you know the guy had done at Wal-Mart. My own personal opinion is that one cries “desperate/ trying way to hard” and how do you stand in line behind crying kids to have that done? What about the guy holding up is beer? Yea that just screams alcoholic. Oh and one of my favorites… The guy with the hat and sunglasses. This could have several meanings- I’m ugly, I’m bald and cross-eyed, I’m a pedophile”… all just bad.

Who knew there would be so much to a profile picture? I don’t need training wheels…I need a psychology degree!  Can we base who to date on how they stand in a picture? I’m not taking the one with my arms crossed off my profile. Does it mean I’m not ready to let someone in? I do think I look cute in that picture.  And the guy with no shirt? Is he really just looking for sex? I don’t know…I think the way he has rubbed the oil all over himself could mean he’s conscious about sun cancer and those muscles could mean he’s into health. Never mind the palm trees in the back ground, which could mean he likes to travel. I like to travel. Look how much we have in common already! Uh Oh! I do need training wheels… But that is a whole other blog….

The Ass Doctor


While checking out my e-mails on match, I come across one from a gastroenterologist. Ok, I think it’s odd that he uses “doctor” in his “match name”. It may be a sign he’s into himself. He describes himself as a “motor mouth” and he’s not the most attractive man… But I’m not in my twenties, I’m trying new things, My mother told me it’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor man. So I decide to meet him for a drink. We pick 7:30 because he is giving a lecture at a local hospital.

Hair, make up, cute outfit. Ready! I meet him at the bar, I say hello, order a cosmo.  He tells me I’m  beautiful. And that was probably the last part of the conversation I was part of.

He proceeded to show me a text, from someone at the lecture he gave, saying how wonderful he was. Then told me he hates lectures but it’s an easy fifteen hundred dollars for half an hours work. He also informs me that he has looked at over 54,000 assholes in his career.

Really? 54,000, that’s a lot of assholes. How am I supposed to respond to that? Oh it doesn’t matter, I don’t have to –  he’s still speaking. Oh, now the subject is anal bleaching, he can do that too.  ANAL BLEACHING? Are you kidding? Who needs their anus bleached???  I smile politely and decline that!  He also told me about a woman who was having a colonoscopy.  They actually stopped  the procedure to discuss that she had the largest bush they had ever seen.  Note to self : must have  bikini wax prior to all surgeries.

All right 20 min have passed, I think I’ll try to join the conversation. I decide I’ll tell him I volunteer at the local hospitals for the American Cancer Society. It shows I’m a caring person, I’m in the hospitals – maybe something in common…

He takes a breath.. I jump in “so, which hospitals do you work out of ?”. He starts to list them. I jump in. ” I was at that one today” Oops, I paused. FAIL!  He continues to talk. Ok, I manged to get out I was at a hospital. I didn’t get to say I volunteer.  I could have been there having a stroke, heart attache, or brain aneurysm. I may need a hospital when I stab myself in the eye because I just can’t handle this conversation anymore! Umm, except it’s not a conversation – I haven’t participated!

Now he’s telling me how much his house costs, his son’s “bemma” and what ever car he bought his daughter. Not caring. I now down the rest of my cosmo. This punishment has gone on long enough!

He sees my empty drink and asks if I want another. Wow he noticed something other than himself ? I refuse the drink with a lame excuse about working in the morning. He asks me out for another date. I think I would rather have my anus bleached. But I smile and say “sure, call me”. Then asks me to pinky promise. OH Yes he did! He even made me hold out the pinky! Well if he can make me pinky promise, then I can do crossies!!!

Walking out of the restaurant he put his hand on my side, then rubbed my stomach and told me I was in great shape. Um… I may have vomited in my mouth a little. Please don’t touch me, I am grossed out! We get to my car. I see he is leaning in for a kiss. I block. Step back and hold out my hand for a shake. Yes, the message is clear! Finally something got through!

As I drive home I think Ok, I guess I have seen my own share of assholes! And ya know what else? There isn’t enough money in the world! But… I do have a coffee date tomorrow morning…

So, I have decided I need to marry for love, not money. Although, I could I date for money, couldn’t I ? How could a man think talking about assholes, large bushes, anal bleaching, and how much money he makes is ok? Are all men this self-absorbed? What do you think?

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