I was enjoying happy hour with a friend when two well dressed, poor mannered Don Juan's came by our table to mingle.We were good- natured about their interruption.Usually strangers at dinner, or a bar, or on vacation make for good stories on days when we are feeling unattractive.These stories remind us of the days when we have it.It being whatever single attractive men are looking for that we have, but are simply unwilling to share for more than a cocktail.The young men sat with us, ordered martinis and sipped almost femininely.With the scent of their cologne wafting in the air and the clink of thick rings and bracelets hitting their glasses, they raved about their recent trips, ensured us that they would have loved it if we had been in Italy.We smiled at them, and raised our eyebrows at one another.After far too long, they excused themselves to the restrooms.We assumed they would return to pay for their drinks, but after an hour, they still hadn't returned.There was little we could do, so we paid for their drinks and left for the evening.The next day, I was ranting to a co-worker about the diva dorks, as my girlfriend and I had dubbed them, when I blurted in frustration, "What gives someone the nerve to do such a thing?!" My co-worker informed me that these two cads are what many single men refer to as cougar hunters.Perplexed, I asked the question that has sent me on an anti-aging campaign like none other experienced by a thirty- year- old woman.A cougar hunter, if you didn't already know, is a younger man seeking the affections (and probably financial support) of an older (older being defined as thirty something) woman.If these boys were cougar hunters, then their attack made me a cougar.Outraged, I shouted, "What? I just turned thirty!" My co-worker shrugged his shoulders and left me wondering, what makes someone a cougar? Do women turn thirty and suddenly become desperate prey? After a little more investigating, I learned more about cougars.I learned that I can safely say I am not a cougar (thank you very much) and there are some tell tale signs that you are, in fact, a cougar.So, if the term doesn't sit well with you either, read on.Make sure you don't get confused with these catty women, and fend off sweet smelling boys wearing designer labels.You know you're a cougar when..1.You order a drink for the singer on stage and send it up with a note to meet you after the show.2.You always walk into a restaurant/bar/room seeking the young single guys.3.You offer to pay for your beau's vacation/dinner/rent/car payment.4.You pinch the adorable waiter's butt as he passes by.5.You ask the bartender to take a shot off of your belly, but when you lift your shirt, the bar sees your waist enhancing pantyhose.6.You show your breasts at Mardi gras and no one looks, or if they do, they snicker.7.You ask the valet boy to meet you in your room in an hour flat to "help you with something".8.You whisper that you are naughty into the ears of a stranger hoping he will ask for demonstrations.9.Announce that the next person in a bar to buy you a drink gets a trip to the Bahamas.10.You date someone more than fifteen years your junior (I know, double standards stink.We'll come up with a good name for old men and young girls.How about gorillas?).11.You wink at the pool boy/ busboy/ any title ending in "boy".12.You fantasize about the young boys on the O.C or MTV or the Jonas Brothers and you are over thirty.After the research, I'm not sure how I was mistaken for a cougar.Perhaps it was my newly discovered wrinkle under my right eye.Perhaps it was my high heeled shoes.Perhaps it was my roaming eyes looking for a waiter.I can't be certain, but the mistake was made, and my perspective on aging is considerably less positive today for it.Although, there are worse things a woman could be called, a cougar is certainly not the most positive.I don't want to stifle anyone's sexual preferences (or means of obtaining those preferences) however, I just thought, if this derogatory title was news to me, it might be news to others as well.So, thirty something and over ladies out there; wear eye cream, drink water, and keep your eyes on your dinner mates, lest you be confused with a prowling feline carnivore.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
What Makes A Cougar?
I was enjoying happy hour with a friend when two well dressed, poor mannered Don Juan's came by our table to mingle.We were good- natured about their interruption.Usually strangers at dinner, or a bar, or on vacation make for good stories on days when we are feeling unattractive.These stories remind us of the days when we have it.It being whatever single attractive men are looking for that we have, but are simply unwilling to share for more than a cocktail.The young men sat with us, ordered martinis and sipped almost femininely.With the scent of their cologne wafting in the air and the clink of thick rings and bracelets hitting their glasses, they raved about their recent trips, ensured us that they would have loved it if we had been in Italy.We smiled at them, and raised our eyebrows at one another.After far too long, they excused themselves to the restrooms.We assumed they would return to pay for their drinks, but after an hour, they still hadn't returned.There was little we could do, so we paid for their drinks and left for the evening.The next day, I was ranting to a co-worker about the diva dorks, as my girlfriend and I had dubbed them, when I blurted in frustration, "What gives someone the nerve to do such a thing?!" My co-worker informed me that these two cads are what many single men refer to as cougar hunters.Perplexed, I asked the question that has sent me on an anti-aging campaign like none other experienced by a thirty- year- old woman.A cougar hunter, if you didn't already know, is a younger man seeking the affections (and probably financial support) of an older (older being defined as thirty something) woman.If these boys were cougar hunters, then their attack made me a cougar.Outraged, I shouted, "What? I just turned thirty!" My co-worker shrugged his shoulders and left me wondering, what makes someone a cougar? Do women turn thirty and suddenly become desperate prey? After a little more investigating, I learned more about cougars.I learned that I can safely say I am not a cougar (thank you very much) and there are some tell tale signs that you are, in fact, a cougar.So, if the term doesn't sit well with you either, read on.Make sure you don't get confused with these catty women, and fend off sweet smelling boys wearing designer labels.You know you're a cougar when..1.You order a drink for the singer on stage and send it up with a note to meet you after the show.2.You always walk into a restaurant/bar/room seeking the young single guys.3.You offer to pay for your beau's vacation/dinner/rent/car payment.4.You pinch the adorable waiter's butt as he passes by.5.You ask the bartender to take a shot off of your belly, but when you lift your shirt, the bar sees your waist enhancing pantyhose.6.You show your breasts at Mardi gras and no one looks, or if they do, they snicker.7.You ask the valet boy to meet you in your room in an hour flat to "help you with something".8.You whisper that you are naughty into the ears of a stranger hoping he will ask for demonstrations.9.Announce that the next person in a bar to buy you a drink gets a trip to the Bahamas.10.You date someone more than fifteen years your junior (I know, double standards stink.We'll come up with a good name for old men and young girls.How about gorillas?).11.You wink at the pool boy/ busboy/ any title ending in "boy".12.You fantasize about the young boys on the O.C or MTV or the Jonas Brothers and you are over thirty.After the research, I'm not sure how I was mistaken for a cougar.Perhaps it was my newly discovered wrinkle under my right eye.Perhaps it was my high heeled shoes.Perhaps it was my roaming eyes looking for a waiter.I can't be certain, but the mistake was made, and my perspective on aging is considerably less positive today for it.Although, there are worse things a woman could be called, a cougar is certainly not the most positive.I don't want to stifle anyone's sexual preferences (or means of obtaining those preferences) however, I just thought, if this derogatory title was news to me, it might be news to others as well.So, thirty something and over ladies out there; wear eye cream, drink water, and keep your eyes on your dinner mates, lest you be confused with a prowling feline carnivore.
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