Finding Forty, Day 264; Cougar

I'm laughing as I begin this entry, which can only be a good thing for me.   So rarely has humor found it's darling and beloved place in my words this past year, I welcome tonight's blog wholeheartedly.

I'm cracking myself up because of the situation I find myself in recently.   Here is my story and I'm sticking to it.

One of my best friends is a co-worker and is divorced.   Although I am not officially divorced, my marriage has been over for a while as most of you know.

Two weeks ago, my friend, F, called to see if I wanted to meet her for a drink at local restaurant/bar.   It had been a long, hard week, and I thought a glass of wine sounded great.   We met at the bar and before long, it was swarming with men.  We had fun dancing and flirting, but nothing more.   It was a work night for goodness sakes!

Fast forward to last Thursday night and we again met for dinner, great conversation, and drinks.   We started at a different place, one that was more sports bar oriented.  I won't lie.   We dress cute when we go out together and make a formidable pair of MILF's.  We are 40 and 41, each have three kids, and still look pretty darn good.   I mean, we aren't sure to get hit on or 'picked up' every time we go out, but we rarely have no bites.

This particular night, a beefy guy in a tight t-shirt was checking her out.   It's so obvious when a man is interested.   If you miss their glance your way the first time, you are sure to notice it one of the next 20 or so repeats.   She sort of likes that Ed Hardy style, so it was amusing.

We also had a pudgy,  high-tech worker in Dockers and a button up shirt who could hardly contain himself.   We politely smiled, but gave no welcoming looks.

Then, as we were finishing our nachos and beer, a group of young guys walked in and as they passed us, one visibly checked me out.

I tend to find F prettier than me and am fine with her getting more attention, but this was interesting.  She immediately said, "Oh, he likes you."

I just laughed because as I glanced at him, he looked like a kid.

A while later, I saw him walking to our table and he bee-lined right for me.    He told me he and his friends were leaving but that he wanted to introduce himself.  He said I was beautiful and asked where I'd be later.   I threw out a few places and smiled as he walked off.

Later, F and I joked about how we'd never have been able to pick him up anyway because neither one of us had our car seats with us.

We laughed a bit more, went to get my sister and her friends who were in town on business, and took them to the restaurant/bar we'd been to the week before.

Lo and behold, when I walked in, I immediately spotted the guy from the bar earlier in the night.   He beamed and me and said, "I KNEW IT!  I knew you'd be here.   My friends wanted to go home and I made them come here because you said you'd be here."

I won't lie.

He's cute.   He's young.   He's fit.  

My mind raced.  Surely he's drunk and looking at me through beer goggles?   There must be something really, horribly, desperately wrong with him.  

I'm not ugly, but I'm not THAT great.  Really.

He chatted me up a bit, with me giggling like a school girl and blushing.   My sister kept saying how much he looked like my twin nephews who are 19 (eww), but in all honesty, he really does.

I finally had to ask how old he was, fully expecting to hear him say 20.   When he said he was 28, I wasn't sure if I felt relief or queasiness.

It finally came time to tell him my age and as you all know, I deal in being as upfront as possible.

"Forty" I answered sheepishly.

His eyes popped wide open and he said, "No way!   How old are you REALLY?"

Well, suffice to say, he hasn't had a problem with my age.

We had our first date this morning (yes, it was a breakfast date) and are having another one tomorrow.

I haven't dated many 28 year olds, oh wait, I haven't dated any, but he seems really genuine and nice.  He hasn't made any sexual moves on me and is content to talk to me and tell me how great I am.

I have smiled and laughed all day long.

Sometimes I think my life couldn't be any more ridiculous if I actually tried for it to be.

Just before starting this blog, I googled "cougars" to see if I truly fit the description.   In some ways, yes. I am 40, almost 41, while he is only 28.   That 12 year age difference puts us pretty darn close to Ashton and Demi.  

There is actually a website, www.dateacougar.com, where people can go to willingly and readily and hopefully enter into such relationships.   The women call the men "cubs"!

When I think about the fact that he was born in 1982, I just laugh.    What in the world would he want with a woman like me?

He constantly tells me I am beautiful, so I plan to let him discover my "National Geographic" breasts (see one of my early blogs) and my "Okavango river delta" stretch marks on my belly all on his own.  No point in giving away all my secrets.

Actually, with all of these African savanna references, maybe I am a cougar after all?

For now, I plan to just go with the flow and enjoy this smile that has crept upon this middle aged face of mine.

I better sign off.  I have a breakfast date to prepare for.

Finding Forty, Day 257; Nine Days

My, my, how time flies.  

The past 9 days have been a whirl-wind, a roller coaster, a ride, to say the least.

In nine short days I've traveled with my girlfriends for a short, but adventurous get away.   Discerning folks might have even unknowingly viewed me on VH1 as I was a "casted audience member" for the Pepsi Fan Jam concert that aired the Thursday before the Super Bowl.

I was in Dallas to see my favorite band, but I also go to witness snow.  Big, fat, soft flakes fell from the heavens  above to the icy earth below and made this romantic girl wish she had a warm hand to hold on to.

She didn't.  Unless you count my own hands as they met between my thighs to find a bit of warmth.

The weekend brought a let down of colossal sorts.  It's very hard to bask in the glow of your favorite rock star and then be thrust back into reality within hours.    Add to that the fact that your future ex husband loaded your kids into the Suburban to head out of town for a family birthday gathering while you were left home alone and the truth can definitely weigh heavily on the heart.

As the weekend hit it's peak, I realized I was also getting sick.  

Sunday found me in bed, alone, puffy eyed, red nosed, crying inconsolably feeling like I had made the biggest mistake any human being had ever made.    A is a REALLY NICE GUY and I felt like I'd walked away from potentially the best thing I'll ever know.

A was sweet and sympathetic to my plight, but firm in his belief that we are doing the right thing.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Okay, I can remember when I was on board with that.

Monday brought my new after school job.   Yes, I found a new job on Craigslist.  I am a "homework assistant" for two brothers three days a week, every OTHER week.  I could not do it weekly, but the bi weekly nature of it makes it do able.   So, I work a full time job as a teacher and then go and do this new job.  

It just so happens though, that this new job coincided with my apartment move in date.

It was a bit anti-climatic to get my apartment key, zip through the apartment for five minutes, then dash off to help a 5th grader convert improper fractions.

But I keep thinking of the money I am making and how it might help go towards our family beach trip this summer or dinner next week.

My budget is yet to be determined and I feel as if I am stretching things to the absolute.

Today brought forth a vaginal ultrasound and a mammogram which is always an experience in and of itself, and now I sit, tired, stinky, and still living out of heavy duty sized garbage bags and moving boxes.

I have no furniture, no organization scheme, no money, no man in my life (save three very resilient, beautiful boys) and here I am.

The wrinkles under my eyes and above my upper lip remind me of the journey I've been on for some time now, perhaps my whole life, and there is a bittersweet feeling I get when I look upon them.

I'm happy, deep down, because I know I will be alright in the end.  But I'm sad, and the sadness is deep.   It's a heavy hearted feeling that just won't seem to go away.

I don't look forward to sleeping on my air mattress alone tonight.   Thank goodness I still have Hippo.

But tomorrow is another day and soldier on I will.

Nine days, so much life lived, so much accomplished.   Sometimes my own fortitude surprises me.

Finding Forty, Day 248; The Lion

This morning, again, I awoke from a tremendous dream.  As my mind's adventure ended and my eyes popped open, I slowly began working through the details of the story that had been playing out in my state of slumber.

The first thing I remembered was a lion!   Not any lion, but the most majestic creature I'd ever seen.   In the dream, I could speak to the lion, with and without words.   It was as if, at times, our minds were one.

The lion and I were in love.  We shared tremendous passion for one another and anguish at our alternative states.   

In the dream, the lion could be human as well, but only for very short periods of time.   Eventually, in the end, his animal form would have to dominate.

But we shared such intimacy and I was so unafraid.   I would reach right into the lion's mouth, I would nuzzle into his wild, exotic mane, I would bestow him with kisses and caress his sinewy body. 

With his eyes and the inner voice only I could hear, he expressed to me how deeply he loved me and how soon he would make the transition, forever, to his human form so that we might be together forever.

And I believed.

Until I woke up.

As I laid in bed, thinking about that dream, wondering why in the world I would journey there in my mind, a metaphor slowly came to form.

I did love a lion once, still do.   His magnificence was more than I could bear, I was captivated, mesmerized.    He told me he would come to me, leave the wilds and live with me, but never did.

I should have never expected or asked him to.   

 How could a lion ever be human?