I guess you can say I’m in the throes of a major midlife crisis.As Dolly Parton once famously quipped, “It takes a lot of money to look this cheap.” Because of all of this, I’m constantly called the “c-word” — that “c-word” being “cougar.” I do really hate that word.He and I met soon after and were instantly attracted. Until I’m no longer happy in this relationship (if that even happens), I’m going to enjoy every moment.It took us a few months to actually start dating — I was still trying to make it work with guys my own age and he had other pursuits for a while as well. You know, I could go on and on about the whole double standard thing, but you and I both know that’s not going to change anytime soon and I feel like talking about it is just a waste of breath. And I’m pretty sure more than one person thought that, with our similar hair, skin and eye colors, that we were either brother and really older sister or mom and son, but the pros far outweigh the cons in our relationship. He’s turned me on to some new music and I’ve introduced him to some “classic” movies (if you consider “Better Off Dead” a classic movie, which you really should).
He did look a bit younger than I was (he has what can best be described as a baby face).
I asked my friend how old he was, to which she replied, “He’s in his early 30s.” Both of my husbands were a few years younger than I was, but I had never been with someone more than 10 years my junior.
I had been on a few dates with 30-somethings, but nothing really came of those.
Not that it was very different from the responses I got from men my age — they were just far less eager and often downright aloof.
One guy I dated on and off I dubbed “Copperfield” (as in magician David Copperfield), as he’d disappear for weeks at a time between dates.