the cougar
There’s a name for women who date younger men. Cougars.
They don’t have a name for men who date younger women. Oh wait. Yes they do. It’s called “Expected.” Or “Normal.”
Younger men that date older women (or “cougar hunters”) say there’s a lot to like: confidence, self deprecating wit and a great sense of style. Meow.
Some of you might remember, a couple of years ago I dated a man 10 years younger than me. For about two months. It was… nice. We didn’t really have much in common. Well. We had one or two things in common. That seemed to fill up the awkward gaps in conversation just fine. Quite the ice breaker, you might say.
I didn’t realize how young he was until our first date. I had an idea in my head about dating someone much younger that summer. I can’t lie- that was intentional. I started hinting around right away, on our first date. Trying to guess his age. But my math is so poor that my stealth tactics (using my fingers to count backwards under the table) were soon obvious. He told me that he’d just graduated college the month before. We had a nice date. And then he left it up to me. He knew I wasn’t sure and he wanted it to be my decision. So I thought about it. And a few days later, I called him.
I have always had rather serious, long-term relationships. So I tried to get this one up to speed. I mean, I really tried to talk to him to find some commonality. I talked to him about working, and the stress of being self employed. Since he’d just started a job, his, um, first job, there wasn’t a lot of relatable material there. Since so much of what we (sadly) discuss is related to work, that took a lot of conversation off the table. Politically, well, he was still sort of figuring that out. Topics relating to our age and school certainly weren’t to be discussed. And we didn’t do a lot of in-depth talking about our feelings. It was kind of a relief, actually. To finally not have to think. To just have fun, go to festivals and hang out on my porch. To just be. My. Very. Favorite. Thing.
I still think about those two months sometimes. Those 60 days. Of just being.
Ann and I were at the pub in Mainstrasse recently and the cutest boys walked in just after midnight. They marched right over to our table and started talking with us. They were going to run a marathon the next day, they explained. A marathon? After drinking and smoking all night? Yes, the cute one told me shyly, dimple flashing. I have to get up at 6 tomorrow for the race.
Up all night. Marathons. Dimples. I thought about it. And then I paid the bill. And I went home.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
By the way… my friends did not approve. Thought it was ridiculous and a total waste of my time. Not sure what a man’s friends say when he dates a younger woman, but I doubt that he's hearing “it’s a huge mistake.”
They don’t have a name for men who date younger women. Oh wait. Yes they do. It’s called “Expected.” Or “Normal.”
Younger men that date older women (or “cougar hunters”) say there’s a lot to like: confidence, self deprecating wit and a great sense of style. Meow.
Some of you might remember, a couple of years ago I dated a man 10 years younger than me. For about two months. It was… nice. We didn’t really have much in common. Well. We had one or two things in common. That seemed to fill up the awkward gaps in conversation just fine. Quite the ice breaker, you might say.
I didn’t realize how young he was until our first date. I had an idea in my head about dating someone much younger that summer. I can’t lie- that was intentional. I started hinting around right away, on our first date. Trying to guess his age. But my math is so poor that my stealth tactics (using my fingers to count backwards under the table) were soon obvious. He told me that he’d just graduated college the month before. We had a nice date. And then he left it up to me. He knew I wasn’t sure and he wanted it to be my decision. So I thought about it. And a few days later, I called him.
I have always had rather serious, long-term relationships. So I tried to get this one up to speed. I mean, I really tried to talk to him to find some commonality. I talked to him about working, and the stress of being self employed. Since he’d just started a job, his, um, first job, there wasn’t a lot of relatable material there. Since so much of what we (sadly) discuss is related to work, that took a lot of conversation off the table. Politically, well, he was still sort of figuring that out. Topics relating to our age and school certainly weren’t to be discussed. And we didn’t do a lot of in-depth talking about our feelings. It was kind of a relief, actually. To finally not have to think. To just have fun, go to festivals and hang out on my porch. To just be. My. Very. Favorite. Thing.
I still think about those two months sometimes. Those 60 days. Of just being.
Ann and I were at the pub in Mainstrasse recently and the cutest boys walked in just after midnight. They marched right over to our table and started talking with us. They were going to run a marathon the next day, they explained. A marathon? After drinking and smoking all night? Yes, the cute one told me shyly, dimple flashing. I have to get up at 6 tomorrow for the race.
Up all night. Marathons. Dimples. I thought about it. And then I paid the bill. And I went home.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
By the way… my friends did not approve. Thought it was ridiculous and a total waste of my time. Not sure what a man’s friends say when he dates a younger woman, but I doubt that he's hearing “it’s a huge mistake.”
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