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My affinity for younger men began long before I fell into the “cougar” demographic. I was 30, newly divorced, and in that cruel “sexual prime.” I would try anything (one) once. In my Lewis & Clark-esque discoveries, I found disgruntled married-man sex was the best sex out there. Now, I’d like to revise that finding.…
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I met a 27 year-old boy last night for a date. They call me cougarlicious in the office and I was living up to it, until I did some basic math. Junior was cute, sweet and said the right things. Like, “Wow, you totally look like you are 31 at the most.” Nice. We continued…
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“Wow, you don’t look 38. Maybe 31, but not 38. I’m 30 in August, so we’ll look the same age.” The bad angel on my left shoulder said, “Congratulations. You won. Now shut up and take your clothes off.”