Hey, thanks to everyone who sent kind sentiments and positive vibes to Mom. Her gall bladder surgery earlier this went well.
Screeching halt!!! Oh, you are so not reading a post about somebody’s mother’s gall bladder operation, are you?
Wow--what a great response to my book giveaway contest! Very encouraging, and thank you so much, but now I’m like, damn, this book had better be good. It’s not too late to enter—see Thursday’s post for details.
Alright, so I was able to retrieve most of the cougar post that I started to write before my Word file went into the Twilight Zone. A couple of weeks ago my blogging buddy Hurricane Mikey did a post answering a bunch of questions I had about the male perspective of things. Questions like, how young is too young? And how old is too old? Check out what he has to say (Mikey goes for cougars), as well as his readers’ comments. Very enlightening.
Did you see the new TV show, Cougar Town, Wednesday night? Oh, it was horrible! Truly awful, and I don’t mean fun awful like in a Kath and Kim way (God rest their souls). But Courteney Cox is gorgeous, don’t you think? I mean, she’s no Beverly D’Angelo, but she’s pretty hot. I thought the guys would dig this picture of her in her underwear. More so than one of Beverly in hers.
Despite whatever you may have heard from Hurricane Mikey, I am not a cougar, though I think I told you that back in the late 90s, I had two kids and a boyfriend all in their twenties. I admit that’s kind of weird, and it wasn’t even a brief dating thing; we went out for two years. Then beloved Bastard Husband and I got together; he was 34 and I was 42, but an 8-year age difference isn’t that bad, do you think?
I’ve always gone for younger guys, only because I’m so immature myself. Whenever I told my mother I was seeing someone new, I could hear her roll her eyes over the phone as she asked her first question: “How old is this one?”
But I’m not a cougar, I tell you. Since BH, I’ve stayed consistently within my own age group with the exception of one Iranian med student who I went out with just a couple of times. I think he was 16 years younger than me. My sister Lori met him when she was visiting one time; she just shook her head and said, “You need a gatekeeper.” And there I was all proud of myself for finally trying out a minority, since I’ve never gone for anyone darker than Italian. But yeah, I don’t know what the hell I was thinking with that one.
You have a couple of those "What was I thinking?" episodes in your dating history, right?
Anyway, I really do prefer men my own age, and by that I mean about three years either way. Beloved boyfriend Mike is six months younger than me, and it’s perfect. We have things in common, the same reference points. I can be totally like, “Remember when you heard Gomer Pyle’s singing voice for the first time? Wasn’t that freaky?” and he knows exactly what I’m talking about, and not from Nick at Nite programming. Yep, that’s the type of conversation I treat him to.
I should probably explain that obsession with Beverly D’Angelo sometime, huh? In the meantime, is it me or does Amy Poehler remind you of a young Bev?
So how about you? How young is too young? How old is too old?