Puma Fail

I have failed, Internet. Failed. Failed at being a future cougar. A cougar in training. A puma (I've been told it's called).

I failed.

Because I just spent the last 24 (ish) hours with a 31 year old man (a hot man, but shamelessly not younger than me nonetheless).

I KNOW! I know.

How am I supposed to be a puma now? I'll be the laughing stock of the cougars' club. They'll strip me of my puma status.

Fail.

Eh fuck it. It was worth it.

Goddamn was it worth it.

24 (ish) hours of entirely too much fun (the details of which are none of your busy-ness yo) worth it.

More about this ridiculously hot man later. I have to think of a blog nickname for him first (Because I'm a nice girl. Stop laughing; I am!), possibly The Leo (because that's what he is and he's all about that) or maybe The Photographer (since I met him on a photography site).

Let it be known, my friends, that you never know what is going to happen.

One day you're all, I think I'll find a dumb, young guy to dote all over me and have lots of The Sex with. I'll be queen of the Pumas. And the next thing you know, you're making sounds only dogs can hear and practicing things that are probably illegal in Alabama with a fine man who is not only not too young for you, but is also wickedly smart and entirely entertaining.

Eh that whole cougar thing is a bunch of malarky anyway. Why babysit an Axe-soaked little boy when there's a man who really knows how to use his hands?




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Epiphany

Did a significant life decision ever just you smack in the face? 

Okay, yes, I realize I did just move like 1,000 miles or something, but I don't mean that. I mean, I woke up today and got smacked in the face with a new vision of the world. 

I got inklings of this vision yesterday when I was in the rebuilding store and needed help with the cabinet we'd decided to purchase (for 15 smackers!) and refurbish. And I saw this:

perfection

So, I realize the photo is blurry and you're only getting a view of his ass (which, take it from me, was a very nice view inDEED), but this right here, ladies and gents of the Internet, was a-fucking-dorable. 

And entirely too young for me. 

But instant fantasies entered my head of, well, you can guess what of. Just let your imagination run wild, my friends. Just let it run wild. Wild. 

And these fantasies lingered the rest of the day. And then all night. And I awoke this morning to an epiphany ("an ephiwhat?" - bonus if you get that movie reference): I could be a cougar.

My only reservation with the plan is this: I think I'm technically too young to be a cougar by definition. So maybe I could just be a cougar in training. Maybe a bobcat or a lynx or something. 

I think I've been looking at this all wrong. See, I've been looking for guys that were relationship material. Who would maybe be old enough and experienced enough to want the things I want, to build a life with. Except, I'm pretty sure those guys don't exist at any age. So I might as well have a lot of ridiculously hot sex until I can just afford to have those things by myself. 

Therefore, I am no longer looking for a relationship, at least not an emotional or committed one. I just want sex. With someone altogether too young for me (but perhaps I should set the bar at a minimum age of 21.). I'm not looking for one night stands either. I'm too old for that shit. I mean, I'm too lazy now to go looking for someone new every time I want The Sex. Who has the time? Nope, I'm looking for a longish term sexual relationship. 

Since it will be purely sexual, he needs to be H-O-T hot. Things that normally aren't on my list when I'm falling for someone's brains or sense of humor or kind nature are totes on the list now. Aesthetic beauty is paramount here. Of course, my definition of hot is not exactly typical anyway, but why don't you let me worry about that, mmmk, pumpkin? 

He also doesn't need to have much in the way of brainpower, which is usually the first thing I look for in a guy. But hell, he's not going to be doing much talking now is he? Of course, if he happens to rock the smart, BONUS! But if he's a little dim, he can just keep quiet. I don't need him to deconstruct The Wasteland. I've already done that anyway. 

What IS important is smarts in the sack. I don't want to waste any time teaching him what's what or what's where and for how long and with who (wait, what?). He's got to have a little savvy, a little intuition. Communication au lit is always important, but I'm not a sex tutor, son. I need to relax a leeetle. 

There will be no dates, so I don't need him to have an income (And lard knows I don't have a job yet.). I don't want to wake up with syphilis, so Collin Farrell is not an option (plus he's too old), but the point being: STD free is required. He needs to bathe regularly and keep his nails trimmed (My hooha doesn't like the long or jagged nails. *shudder*). He needs to brush his teeth daily and NOT smell like he bathed in Axe. If my nose is offended, you don't get in my bed, thankyouverymuch. 

Um, what else? Oh yeah, nothing! Hot and rocking the sexy time. That's all I need. 

Don't bother sending a resume. Just send a photo. Full body. I don't want to see any penises,  but ass shots are encouraged so I can judge hairiness and squeezability.