Cougars and other cats

What really qualifies as a cougar? I actually was called one myself last year when my lady friends and I went to a local night club for a girl’s night out. I figured it was a lady on the prowl, ready to tear into a helpless, smaller animal. I didn’t disagree. I was feeling fierce with my leopard print peep toe 4” heels. My fake eyelashes and makeup were expertly applied and my plunging neckline showed a decent, if not indecent, amount of cleavage. I was primed and ready to dance my ass off.

Until I realized that the term cougar meant something else. Urban dictionary says a cougar is 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 a real hottie or milf. Guys like cougars cuz they have their shit together. “That cougar I met last night, showed me shit I didn't know existed, I'm goin back for more”

OK so technically, I am not a cougar as my shit is only shown to my husband… but Suz, she is one hot milf. If I were a single dude, I’d do her {wink}. Hell, if I were a single gay chick, I’d do her {wink wink}.

I have no idea where she meets these random young guys, but I get to hear the stories. Which are usually colorful, flavorful, and bountiful. A harvest of boy toys. A cornucopia of horny guys hanging around her quoting the hooker in Full Metal Jacket “me love you long time.” And then backing it up apparently. And repeatedly. With lots of animal growls?

Suz says she like them younger (not too young, pimples are not sexy), open-minded, and energetic. Suz is all woman, who’s been around the block a time or two and knows what she doesn’t want anymore. She doesn’t want any reminder of her ex-asshat. He was an old fart who sucked the life out of her. She wants fresh and fun and nothing serious. And frequent. Lots and lots of fresh and fun. And yummy. “ Older guys want me to play mommy, taking care of them and their shit. Been there, eff that, done that.” Retain this: cougars have voracious appetites and Suz has always been particularly fond of cake. Beef cake.

When Suz and I were teens, sporting mullets, we wore a ton of makeup, lots of pastels, and even more attitude. When we’d go to the clubs, the men (err boys) all took notice. While the mullets thankfully grew out, and we gave up the pastels (well, she did, I still wear lilac), and toned down the makeup (well, she did, I still wear lots of eyeliner), the men still pause when we walk into the room (we’re loud and proud …)

But the attitude – it’s still there and still fierce – like a warm blanket keeping her warm on cold southern nights. When the tornadoes kick up the dust on her ranch, she squares off with a pointed look daring it to touch her kids, home, horses, and dogs – and they back off. That’s ‘tude for you. Does that mean she's a cougar? I dunno, it just means she's a girl who wants to have fun. Label it what you want. She doesn't care, and I don't either. Guess that's our 'tude too.

Suz has always known who she is, and while she might have forgotten that inner crazy bitch for about 14 years, leaving asshat reacquainted her with the girl she was. The combination of the two shades of Suz is quite powerful, where men are to be enjoyed and savored, and there is a time and place for seriousness, and that time is not yet. A leopard doesn't change its spots so who says you can’t have your cake and eat it too?