I’m a puma not a cougar
I'm the opposite of a Puma because I'm not preying on anyone.
Jun 23rd
According to Urban Dictionary, the definition of a cougar is: A woman in her sexual prime who prefers to hunt rather than be hunted. A cougar’s victims are usually under 25, as cougars prefer to mate with men who still have hair. Cougars generally feed and then continue hunting, as they enjoy role reversal.
I find this definition more hilarious, though: 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.
Okay, I’m not in my 30s or 40s (shut up, I’ll be 30 this year, I know). So I’m not a cougar. I dubbed myself a puma, instead. Except, I don’t prefer younger men. I don’t even know what to do with one. What do you talk to them about? Pokemon? Do you have to cut their meat and feed them? What about diapers?
It seems, however, that younger men prefer me. Who knew? Lately, I’ve been hit on by a veritable slew (read: three) of younger men. So what’s the opposite of a puma? I’m the one being preyed upon.
While I was at the pool this weekend, this kid wouldn’t leave me alone. He was a sophomore in college (or some such thing that means he can’t even buy his own drinks which doesn’t even matter because my Thursday night was ridiculous and I don’t want to buy any drinks but I also don’t really want to buy someone else drinks, ya know?), majoring in English because he “sucks at science.” He kept asking me things like, “Are you here visiting your parents?” and “So where do you go to school?”
Then he asked me what lethargic means (for his homework, ya’ll). I told him to get a new major.
If you’re going to be 20 and hit on me, at least be a non-smoking smart person.
Yes, that was a 23-year-old boy who came out of the ladies' room. Yes, I did make out with him.
Jun 1st
Don’t worry, I’m not going to give you a weekend recap. Unless you want me to tell you that on Friday night I stayed home and went to bed at 10:00 pm (and rs27, I blame you for the fact that I watched not only The Duel 2, but also Daisy of Love. Daisy of Love is like crack! I can’t wait to see what happens next! Ugh). Or that on Saturday I went to the gym (where I made my calves so sore I’m still hobbling around like an old lady) and did some rock climbing (where I bit it so hard I now have rope burn up my arm and I nearly yanked out my belly button ring). Because you don’t want to hear about that crap.
Saturday, I hung out with my friend Dee Dee and her neighbor, Peaches. Where I was told one of the most awesome bad sex stories I’ve ever heard (it definitely competes with Maxie’s soft-serve story). You’ll have to check back later to read it. Hopefully she’ll give me permission to tell it, since she’s told the entire state of Texas and I won’t even give up the guy’s name.
Anyway, after the first bar, Dee Dee and I bounced to another place. Peaches doesn’t really have a lot of going out stamina yet, so she took her lame ass home.
I am doing a horrible job of telling this story. Just ignore all the other crap.
I had to pee really bad, so I headed off to the ladies’ room (what? That isn’t what you do?). There were two girls standing in front of me, waiting. Ugh. Why do we all have to pee at once?
So the door opened and out walked…a boy. Um. It says “Bush” on the door, dude. You get what that means, right?
Anyway, the other two girls go in together. I’m sure they stripped down to their panties and had a water fight in there.
You’re welcome.
I said to the boy, “Uh, you get that you were just in the women’s restroom, right?”
He said, “Yeah, but I really had to go and there was someone in the men’s room.”
“Yeah, but now I really have to go and you made a line for my bathroom.”
He said, “Oh, sorry. You can just go in the men’s. I’ll stand out here and guard the door.”
Now, I really had to pee. But my experience with men and restrooms is this: Y’all are all about 12. Not only do you frequently piss on every available surface BUT the toilet (I used to work at Whataburger, trust me, this is a true statement), you also tend to try the door handle when you know there’s a girl in there (happened to me no less than two years ago at a Halloween party). So I was a little wary.
“Okay, but I’m locking the door and when I come out if you’re not still standing here, I’m going to be pissed.”
And apparently, it was love. Or something. Ick, ew, ugh. I just freaked myself out with the L-word. For the rest of the night, he was attached at my hip, talking to me, trying to be clever.
After my third blueberry vodka and cranberry juice (seriously, it was DELICIOUS), it seemed like a really good idea to give him my phone number when he asked for it. I even thought it was kind of cute when he immediately called me to make sure I hadn’t given him a fake number. Which, frankly, I do all the time to those retail people who ask.
Me: Um…how old are you, exactly?
Him: 23.
Me: (Looking over at Dee Dee, who is CRACKING UP) Oh no…
Him: What? How old are you? Like 21, 22?
Me: Oh no…(much laughter)
Him: What?
Me: 29.
Him: That’s not that old.
Me: (juice is now coming out of my nose because I have choked on it from laughing so hard) Uh huh…
He said he “really liked my personality” (read: boobs), and he’d “really like to hang out sometime” (read: make out).
He asked if I wanted to hang out the next day, and I said okay. And boy was that weird. He is…so 23. And I am…so a puma (look, I’m not old enough to be a cougar and besides, HE picked ME up).
My favorite moment from the “date”?
Him: Blah blah something about movies, blah.
Me: Have you seen the new Star Trek movie?
Him: No, but I really want to. Have you seen it? What did you think?
Me: I’ve seen it. It was okay. The characters were good, blah blah, but I didn’t really like the story, blah blah blah…
Him: Oh, I just found this out, but did you know that there were like two other Star Trek movies before this one?
Me: (blank stare)
Him: I don’t know if they were any good.
Me: (blinking)
…
Me: Um, you’re kidding, right? If by “two” you really mean “ten.”
Him: Really?
Oh geez.
But he has very good manners and seems to think we should “do this again sometime.”
And yes, he has a job. Something about inventory logistics. And no, he doesn’t live with his parents. At least, I don’t think so. Oh no…
