Every once in a while, I become privy to a world I had no idea existed.
While working offsite in Shadyside at Coffee Tree Roasters at the end of last week, my co-worker came back from getting a cup of tea and said as she entered our enclosed workspace, “Bill Peduto is out front.”
I said, “Oh yeah? What’s he doing? Is he doing some campaigning?”
My CW responds, “No, he’s sitting down having a meeting. Talking to some cougar.”
Now my CW had used this term before but I don’t think I had, until that point, really realized that it had some meaning. So I asked said CW (even though I thought I knew) what it meant. Turns out that even though my CW had been using it half-jokingly in this case, I was correct.
For those tragically un-enlightened as myself, a cougar (as defined in one of best entries in Urban Dictionary) is:
Any older woman who frequents clubs in order to score with a usually much younger man. The cougar can be anyone from an overly surgically altered wind tunnel victim, an absolute sad and bloated old horn-meister, to a real hottie, or milf. Cougars are gaining in popularity (particular the true hotties), as young men not only a fucking incredible sexual high, but many times a chick with her shit together.
There’s also the “less favorable” and most voted up definition:
An older woman trying way too hard to look young. Usually heavy makeup and way too tan, sometimes orange. Generally has leathery, smoking damaged skin, short skirt, and may have obvious breast implants.
So after confessing my unawareness of this term, my CW says “you’re kidding, right?” They then proceed to tell me about the urbancougar website complete with the “Cougar of the Month.” There, the modern-day cougar is described as a woman who “avoids the entanglements of a ‘relationship,’ in favor of the freedom of the hunt.”
Wow.
Moving over to cougarplanet.com (yes, an entire planet of this), I discovered that there is a whole ecosystem of cougars and cougar hunters. Did you know that Helen of Troy was a Great Cougar in History?*
Holy. Shit.
Now, believe you me, I respect an older woman’s desire to prey on enjoy the company of a younger male, as well as the desire of a young guy to bag court a cougar. The whole buildup around this phenomenon seems a bit much. I myself was once hunted by a cougar shortly after leaving college, and she even had me somewhat interested right up until she (in a drunken state) told me that her husband was coming to pick her up and that I’ll know him because he’ll be the state trooper waiting in his squad car outside the bar.
You then saw the WoyDeer get the hell out of there. Mutual of Omaha had nothing on that footage.
*Other famous cougars in history include Lana from Three’s Company, Ellen Burroughs from Class, Vera Prescott from The Secret of My Success, and of course Stifler’s Mom.
So, let me guess:
You’ve been hanging out around the place you last saw her, in your “slutty jeans”, conspicuously dropping napkins, pens, handkerchiefs, quarters…? Right? I’m right, right?
Jerri Hall had a short-lived show on VH1 that chronicled her search for the perfect boy-toy. The show was rather interesting, and it featured many of Jerri’s cougar girlfriends. The most interesting aspect of the show was the cougars’ commentary, so to speak, concerning what makes or detracts from a desirable “pet.” None of the women were very “impressed” with the boys who used their attractiveness as an excuse to be cocky. These women wanted cute men who would adore them and who could then be adored.
I’m just saying, Woy: be humble. Don’t let your sweet ass go to your head.
Well, there’s my ‘something learned’ for today. Now I know what to call the lesser varieties when I encounter them in the wild — I would previously refered to them as ‘those skanky women with no taste who are entirely too old to be wearing that outfit’.
Er… Amy?
We all get older – there is no escape from that.
Plus, I am surprised that woman of today, like yourself, would pass judgement on other women who are liberated enough to know what they want and go for it.
Forgive me if I am wrong, but your use of words like ‘lesser’ and ‘skanky’ lead me to believe that you have judged them and found them wanting.
I am wondering if you are a young lady or a “refined mature lady” (as opposed to ‘those skanky women with no taste who are entirely too old to be wearing that outfit’.).
If you are the former, surely you are not threatened by these much less youthful denizens of the wild?
And if you are the latter, then surely you would “hunt” a totally different category of “prey” or already be happily settled with a worthy mate who would most likely be older than what a cougar desires – so why the attitude?
Puzzling….
Nothing to do with the post but I would eat the moon if it were made out of ribs. I love ribs!
Man, do I (and my sweet ass) ever love ribs too.
[quote comment="8595"]Nothing to do with the post but I would eat the moon if it were made out of ribs. I love ribs![/quote]
and follow it with a nice cold budweiser. I know I would
Mike, back when me and the FBC were in fell effect, one of the girls’ blog names on AFM was Cougar. If you go to AFM and search for “cougar” you will see that I named her so in January 2006. Cougars are classic creatures.
P.S. It was uber good to see you twice in one week, especially since I was more sober than you the second time and both times were at Jack’s. :P
I’m hoping to find a Cougar here in my town, soon; but, writing now to tell you that the Cougar in Class (1983) was Jacqueline Bisset. Please make change above! (Also, I think the last sentence of the Urban Dictionary definition is missing the word “find.”) Being a film student, I’ll try thinking of a few more famous celluloid Cougars. (If you don’t want to stick in Ellen Barkin from Ocean’s Thirteen for being too recent. Oh… Diane Lana has a young husband, the man who played the bomb-diffusing arab engineer in The English Patient.)
Diane Lane, I mean.
Dylan of Erie, PA, Diane Lane is not married to the guy that difused the bombs in English Patient, ur thinking of Barbara Hershey…Diane Lane is married to Charles Bronson’s son…