Birth of a Cougar

I didn't hit my stride until I turned forty.

Oh, I'd had four marriages by that time and had led quite the wild life but, somehow, I'd never been able to get it all together. I guess I was the consummate late bloomer. Lucky for me that my "awakening" coincided with Nature's Last Stand -- that pivotal moment when a woman's hormones make their final, frantic dash through the body before leaping like lemmings over the menopausal cliff.

So, there I was -- forty years old and hotter than a chili pepper. Many might say that I've always been like that (especially my mother, who blamed her stomach ulcers on my wanton ways). But my various forays into loving and marital relationships with men mu own age or older always seemed to end in tears. Theirs, I must add. I always sailed on unscathed into yet another disastrous liaison.

Forty found me permanently attached yet again. Four years later I wasn't. During those crucial years, I set out in a new direction. After spending my entire life on men's dreams, I found myself wondering what had happened to my own. Did I mention that I also made an exciting and enjoyable discovery? Younger men.

My then-marriage crumbled beneath a mountain of problems, not the least of which was the close proximity in my daily working life of an extremely handsome and well-built young man. A proximity that became so close we couldn't be pried apart. My marriage split acrimoniously and, at forty-four, I found myself homeless, jobless, and credit card-less, not to mention broke.

Yet along with the new (and at times seemingly insurmountable) challenges of emotional and financial survival, I found that being forty-four, single, and hotter than a chili pepper was by no means the social drawback one might expect -- or be led to believe. In fact, far from finding myself alone and dateless, I appeared to be just what quite a number of men -- younger men -- were after. They certainly turned out to be what I was after.

Far from panicking and running the other way (as was still expected in those restrictive and societally condemning days), I jumped right into the deep end and became an outspoken and visible "cougar" -- a single, older woman who prefers to date younger men, and is proud of that choice.

I wasn't worried about what people would think. I didn't even consider hiding my predatory ways. I simply roared out into the world and began to sample the pleasures of relationships with younger men -- without guilt.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that, at that time, most other older women didn't share my newfound confidence. While many were busy doing exactly what I was doing, they were just as busy hiding it. Why? Because society has a double standard, they said. It's okay for older men to date much younger women; in fact, society tends to give its approval to such liaisons. When it comes to older women, however, there are very different rules. Older men who date younger women are looked on with admiration (by other older men) and called virile. Older women who date younger men are scorned (by both sexes) and called foolish. And much worse.

Cougar poop!

Although I may have been a pioneer in the art of the cougar hunt, I'm glad to say that this delightful pastime has since not only become acceptable to most of society (there are still diehard pockets of resistance in the urban jungle), but also taken its proper and necessary place in the world of alternative relationships.