I'm Not a Goddamn Cougar

Let's start with a few facts:

-I am 39 and so that makes me just about old enough to be a cougar. And if not a cougar than certainly a puma.

-I do indeed look fabulous for my age and get hit on by younger guys all the time.

-I saw the cougars episode of 30 Rock and the premiere of Cougartown. And for some masochistic reason I also read every silly cougar themed article I come across.

And you know what, I think it's all a big fraud being perpetrated by the media. I think they needed something spicy to write about, to entertain themselves and us. They wanted to balance out all of the sadness and catastrophe of the last few years.

And then some marketing genius saw a picture of Demi and Ashton in the paper and thought - EUREKA, COUGARS.

Now, I'm not doubting that there are some older women who date younger men, or that there are some perfectly happy cougar-cub (lord, I hate that phrase) couples. But there is no new cougar trend emerging in society.

Women, like me, who found younger men tiresome and immature 6 months ago haven't suddenly change their minds. We aren't sitting around and thinking, "Gee, I'd so much rather date a young guy who couldn't possibly relate to my life experiences like some man my own age." No offense to men in their early 20s. I adored them, when I was in my early 20s. Now, not so much.

If there is a slight uptick in women dater younger men it's only because so many of the men in their 40s aren't interested in dating women their own age. They leave us no choice.

So please, the next time you see a hot 40ish year-old woman, please please please don't call her a cougar. While there might be a few of us who like the word and throw it around in jest, the rest of it hate it and can't wait for the next fake trend to emerge. Cyberdating, perhaps?

Hello...Is There Anybody In There?

On Monday I got the call nobody wants to get.  My grandfather died, Monday morning.

There Is No Pain, You Are Receding

Before 2017, I'd been fairly lucky.  Few people I knew about had died, let alone somebody I was close to.  That changed, when my uncle died.

It was a bad death.  My uncle was never good at dealing with a setback, emotional or professional, and when the company he worked for laid him off, his alcoholism only got worse.  By the time he died, his liver had failed so thoroughly toxins were leaking through his skin.

I cried at my desk, and on the way home, plugged in my iPod.  The first song that played was Pink Floyd.

A Distant Ship Smoke On the Horizon

I've never been close with my mother's side of the family, including my mother.  This has been the function mostly of the fact that my father, who mostly raised me on his own, and my mother's side have a contentious relationship at best.  The one person, however, who stood behind my father was my grandfather.

Maybe it was because he was a generous man.  Maybe it was because he'd gone through an ugly divorce of his own.  But regardless, he stood by my father.  I was always grateful for it.  I wish now I'd told him more often.

You Are Only Coming Through In Waves

I'm bad at staying in touch.  Facebook and the like have been a godsend for me to stay in touch with people I've befriended and people I love, simply because I'm not the kind of person who picks up the phone.

As a result, I haven't spoken to anybody in my mother's family in any meaningful way beyond the occasional email for nearly five years.  I take my share of blame for this: like I said, I'm bad at staying in touch.

One thing my grandfather used to do was send newsletters.  These came via snail mail, and they were the cheesiest things you ever saw: laid out on mid-'90s word processing software, but full of details from cousins and other relatives I've barely met. I never replied to those newsletters with a letter of my own.  I think on some level, I thought there was always going to be time, that he was always going to be there.  That, I think, is my biggest regret, that I never put pen to paper.

The Child Is Grown, the Dream Is Gone

I got the call at 6:30pm on Monday, and since then I've been engaged in the frustrating mundanities of grief.  His funeral is Wednesday (I'm writing this early morning Tuesday), and my father and I will be driving twenty hours. We've been asked to attend by the widow, personally, and neither of us can afford the airfare.  Nor can we afford not to be there.

My girlfriend can't come, although she wants to: we simply have too many pets.  Explaining that and reassuring her she wasn't being a terrible person was the first thing I did.  She packed a bag for me, while I wrote my various markets and told them what was happening.

The horrible irony of funerals and travel is that you can only grieve so much. You may want to be immovable.  But you can't be. You have no choice: you have somewhere to be, and it is vitally important that you get there.

You shut off, for a little while.  You feel the grief there, just under the surface, but you can't acknowledge it.  You simply have to accept that for the moment, what you're feeling has to stay locked away while you find a hotel and arrange the details of a last-minute trip.

And you welcome it, in a way.  To not deal with the flood all at once, but with trickles.  Inevitably, the whole feeling will rush over you.  But not now.

For now, you have become comfortably numb.

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Booty Calling Someone Before a First Date: Not a Good Idea

Last week, I received a drunk dial on Friday from a guy that I had a first date with on Saturday. Actually, make that two calls. Neither of which I answered. The next night, after waiting for 10 minutes at the designated meeting spot (which also happened to be the corner outside his apartment), I joined my friends for dinner. I received three more phone calls during dinner (which he knew about via text) and one awesome final drunk dial at 2:30 AM, which woke me up when I had an 8:30 AM flight. Now he wonders why I won't "hookah" with him next Saturday.

Oh, by the way, this entire date, besides the initial meeting, was set up via Facebook.

And this is just the latest in a virtual cesspool of technological dating errors. I've also had two Microsoft Outlook dates turninto duds. Years of drunken, college booty calls have caused intimacy and commitment issues I don't know if I'll ever overcome, and my sister is currently in a fight with her boyfriend because she didn't answer her phone for a three-hour period last night. Every night, at least one of my friends exclaims "Oh my God, he's read my BBM!! Why isn't he responding?!" And I have had not one, but two completely unrelated friends, scream at their boyfriends and have their rants transcribed, in real time, on their iphones. They had nowhere to run in the morning.

It's sad, really. Courtship has been reduced to Facebook stalking sessions and drunken booty calls. Instead of a nice message on your voicemail wondering if you'd like to catch a movie, you get a message over the internet that says, "Yo, u look hot. We want to hook up w u cutiez." Even the temptation of an illicit affair has lost its sinful appeal because you can just text six people at the same time on your Sidekick.

I'm not asking for rose petals on the bed and hundred of candles from Hobby Lobby all over the room. In fact, I think that would make me gag. But how about a phone call rather than a text conversation that takes three hours to come to fruition? How about a surprise home-cooked meal? Nothing fancy. I'll like you and you get to eat. Both important to evolutionary success. And let's be honest, that's really what this is all about. So please, shut down your computer, turn off your crackberry, and let's produce some offspring.

----------------------------------------------------

Meet The Author

Hi. I'm Blair. 5' 3', blue eyes, brown hair that really needs to be washed right now. But you can see all that on my Ignighter profile. I guess what you need to know here is that my personality falls into the 'Analysis Paralysis' category. At least, that's why my ex-life coach told me right before I fired her.

Anyways, this means that I will scrutinize and over-analyze everything I see and/ or hear and/ or smell within the young urbanites' dating scene. My theories, rants and questions will wind up here, most of the time with an entertaining story or 5 about one of my friends', or my own, dating sagas (please don't take this as a reason to not date and/or befriend me). I hope you enjoy the ride, and feel free to hop on with questions and comments at any time.

Reprinited from:

https://agb-community.c4elink.org

http://xahara.bcu.ac.uk/

Would You Ask Your Grandma About Sex, Porn and Masturbation?

Neither would we. But lucky for us, the ladies at The Frisky did.

We already know that your grandmother thinks Paris Hilton is a whore. But what does she think about watching porn during sex? Masturbation? (And what is with my fascination with what octogenarians think about sex? That one remains a mystery.)

However, I can tell you what dear old grammy thinks about anal and such. Well, not your grandmother. (I have no affiliation with the Psychic Friends Network.) Nor my own grandmothers. (They both passed away when I was still under the impression that oral sex only took place over the telephone--a notion I held steadfast until preteen-dom. Clearly, I was operating on some serious misinformation about the birds and the bees. Imagine my shock when I uncovered the truth.)

But, for those of us who wouldn't dare speak such dirty, dirty words in the presence of our dear old grandmothers, there is Simcha Whitehill, a blogger at Thesolarbiz.com/. Simcha has boldly gone where few granddaughters have dared to go before: She had "the talk" (and so much more) with her 85-year-old grandma.

For the last few months, Simcha has posted several revealing interviews with her grandmother, a Holocaust survivor who recently moved into her 94-year-old boyfriend's New York apartment until winter, when the couple hits up Boca Raton. If you have a few minutes, I certainly suggest giving the Ask Grandma videos a little looksy.

If not for the love and sex advice, which is so wondrously frank, for the moments that are so cringe-worthy, they hearken back to the days when, by some form of cosmic punishment, you first watched a movie sex scene with mom and dad in the family room.

As it turns out, Simcha's grams is pretty shrewd--and not the least bit shy about telling a guy what she wants in the sack. Sounds like my kind of lady. Cue the intro with granny arranging flowers, smearing on some sexy red lipstick, pouring a nice cold glass of Tanqueray and getting comfy for some hard-hitting Q&A.;

Should you trust your heart or your head? Your brain. Should you break up with a guy who is bad in bed? "If that's a question, break up because it's no good," she says. "You would know if it's good or not." Yes, dear grams. We would know, indeed. And we couldn't agree more.

But what if your man watches porn during sex--is that normal? Absolutely. "Watch with him and enjoy it," she says as she turns to her granddaughter. "Were you shocked when I said that?"

Now a foray into the history books: How did women masturbate before vibrators? "I don’t know, but nothing’s wrong with vibrators," she says as she turns to camera, smiles and shrugs. "So what's wrong with this masturbating? That’s an old one--since the world was discovered. Children do it. It’s part of life. Nothing to be ashamed of or feel guilty about. It’s part of nature."

Well, there you have it. Permission from grandma to masturbate sans guilt until the cows come home. If you've got a burning question that you wouldn't dare spring on your own grams, it seems that Simcha's grandma is still fielding questions. Just don't ask her about anal. This granny dodged the question. Every matriarch has to draw the line somewhere.

Top 5 Ways to Thwart a Period Hookup

What's the best way to tell a guy you have just started dating that you have your period? Maybe it's just me, but I'd rather not say anything he might actually interpret as "Hey, dude, I have blood flowing out of my vag."

To equip 20something women everywhere with arsenal ofways in which to communicate our handicap, I bring you 2019's Top 5 Ways to Thrwart Period Hookup... a collection of humorous, hopefully helpful lines that have actually come out of one or another of my friends' mouths.

1. Oozing seduction whisper "I don't think this is a good time." Just don't say this until you've left the bar. Don't want anyone getting confused.

2. Play prude. Just don't do this if you've already had sex. Otherwise, you will be the worst of the worst...an Indian Giver.

3. Convince him your Spanx and rainboots are hot. Refuse to take them off.

4. Just don't say anything and let him find your tampon string. Whoops.

5. "I reeeaaally don't think you want to do that." It brings humor into the situation and could perhaps get you at least a cuddle.

6. Be honest. We can all only hope to be so lucky as my friend, who, upon telling her boyfriend that she has her period, usually receives this response:

"I don't care."

Read More: Mdanderson

"Feminism" Vs. "Equality"

In my last "Male Perspective" column at https://mrxproducts.com/, I called Caitlin Flanagan a "professional anti-feminist" and managed to touch off a huge argument about feminism.  So this column is way, way, way overdue.

Here's the key problem when we argue about feminism: we act like it's a settled thing, and it's not.

There are two feminisms people tend to talk about, that I've observed, and they tend to treat them as interchangeable: feminism as a political force and feminism as an intellectual force.  It's important to sort the two because more often than not, there's a clear line between the two that once you cross, guys either stop agreeing with or have real trouble understanding what's going on.

Feminism as a political force is pretty straightforward: women should have the same rights and responsibilities as men, and have the same treatment.  This is generally called "equality" but it's feminism.  I've yet to meet a guy who wasn't a total d-bag who didn't agree with this.

It's feminism as an intellectual force where things tend to go a little haywire, for guys.  Part of this is that feminism in academia is hardly a settled topic.  There's agreed-upon ground, of course, but then it diverges wildly.  A lot of it, frankly, has little application to men anyway; academic theory exists to be published, not applied.

And, to be honest, there are some incredibly obnoxious and stupid people in the academic world, just as there are obnoxious and stupid people in every walk of life.  This is generally where the "feminazi" stereotype comes from.  But a larger problem is the fact that they don't understand men perfectly, and yet so, so many believe they do, and an added problem is that, especially the undergraduates getting their degrees, some think they speak for all women.  This leads to some...awkward and unpleasant conversations, since it's very hard to explain to somebody that they are not holier than thou in a polite way.

None of this is helped by the fact that feminism is subject to internal politics, just like anything else.  One of the biggest fights brewing right now is whether or not feminism is inherently classist in its construction, for example.

Personally, when it comes to feminism, I tend to agree with the political and simply avoid the academic.  It's not worth it, and, frankly, most of it tends to fall apart outside of rarified air.  I'll just not be a jerk and respect other people, regardless of gender, and I think that should keep me from being a sexist bonerbeast.

Well, to most people.  You can't please everybody.

Become Remarkably Beautiful From the Inside Out

In today’s world we no longer have to compete with just our classmates, our friends, or our family. We have to compete with every damn person in this world. With social media at our fingertips, we are caught in a never-ending battle between who we are and who we wish we were. You must have the latest lip liner to make sure you are looking your best tonight. You must spend your year-end bonus on the latest Michael Kors purse, God forbid you don’t have it this weekend. You better start that 30 day detox tea you saw on instagram if you want to look good in your bikini this summer. Everybody’s doing it.

Society has already decided for you what trend you must follow, what diet fad is the one that is going to make you lose that 10 pounds quick, and which designer shoes are going to find you your prince charming. We always think, “if only I looked better on the outside, I would be happy.”

Don’t get us wrong, there are a lot of great things happening on social media to help you reach your goals. There is a solution to anything you want to change on the outside that can be found with the click of a button. The problem is that most of them are quick-fixes, or temporary solutions. What we are trying to achieve is long term confidence, long term success, and long term happiness. So where do you start?

Have you ever met someone you thought was absolutely gorgeous but as soon as she opened her mouth you could not understand why anyone would want to be around her. Or the opposite, have you ever met a woman you thought really got the short end of the stick and after getting to know her you could not wait to introduce her to your best guy friend?

The real truth is that internal transformation breeds external results.

Here are a few tips to start:

1. Get honest with yourself. 

What is really stealing your joy? Are you in an unhealthy relationship that continues to drag you down? Are you looking for validation in your friends or your significant other? Are you comforting yourself with food?

It is much easier to hold onto something that is unhealthy when it is comfortable. That cycle though is only going to reap misery instead of happiness. The longer you continue to blame your circumstance on others around you, the further you get from your destination. You have to get over what you feel like everyone else has done to you and accept that you are the only one who is accountable to you.

2. Baby steps are still steps. 

Set realistic goals for yourself. We have the tendency to go from zero to sixty and give everything which leaves us exhausted and not wanting to do it at all. Start doing something today that is going to get you one step closer to where you want to be tomorrow.

Take your time, you are never going back. Read self help books and find mentors who inspire and motivate you. The journey to the best version of you should be something you are proud to hang your hat on. You are not defined by your past, you are prepared by your past. No matter the size, every step you take forward will get you to your destination.

3. What you see is what you get.

Stop comparing yourself to everyone else. You are not everyone else, you were created with a purpose unique to you. As long as you continue to spend your time trying to be someone else you will never reach your full potential.

Use your scars to tell your story and wear the crown of victory you have so courageously earned. Your beauty will become immeasurable. You will never be able to stop life from happening, how you react is what will define you. Love the person you see in the mirror, she can be your worst enemy or your best friend.

4. You are your own worst critic. 

Own your imperfections. Learn from them, grow from them, and make them something beautiful. Do not get caught up in what you think everyone else thinks of you. At the end of the day as long as you know who you are, what you stand for, and what your purpose is; no one else’s opinion matters. Only you go to bed with yourself and only you wake up with yourself.

Learn to fall in love with every part of who you are. If you are not happy with something, change it. Be sure you want to making the change for yourself, not because someone else makes you feel that way. You must get rid of everything that negatively affects your life, you don’t have time for that.

Published with author permission

https://thevoicebw.com/author/alexwise/