this weekend my friend derek called and invited me out to a neighborhood bar i'm too ashamed to name (for anyone who lives in edmonton). "it's the staff party of one of julia's friends," he said, "c'mon, you gotta come out and enjoy the cougar action." "i AM the cougar action," i wailed.
i was wrong. the median age at the cougar bar turned out to be around 40. and let's just say there were more mullets, 80s big hair, and pink-and-black ensembles than you can shake a stick at. on the dance floor, a good crowd was grinding to cher's "do you belieeeeeve in life after love" and dance remixes of 80s hits: "aaaaafter the booooys of suuummer had gooooone..." as i was making my way back to our table from the bathroom, gawking at the heavy makeup, hair extensions, and tiny skirts (was that acid wash?), some poor guy asked me to dance. "oh!" i stammered, "i'm sorry, i'm...i'm...going that way." i gestured vaguely into the distance, feeling guilty that i didn't have a better reason.
derek's 19-year-old friend chris commented, "this is so sad! i don't want to be spending my weekends in a bar when i'm 40!" "aw, c'mon," i said, "people get divorced, people are in their 40s and single or whatever. they need a place to go! look how confident these woman are...they feel sexy and they're having a good time!" just as a woman walked by who may or may not have been a prostitute. i continued, "i mean, i still want to be able to go out for a drink with friends on friday nights when i'm 40." at that moment, we glanced over at one of the booths near the window, where another woman was bent over the back of the seat with her ass in the air, laughing. a guy hovered possessively nearby while two other guys grabbed her ass. "okay, fine," i said, "maybe i just won't come to this bar."
at the end of the night, derek gave me a hug: "hey, thanks for coming out!" i said, "aw, i had a good time. and your friend chris is ADORABLE!" i need to work on my future cougar status, you know.
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UPDATE: the chris guy thought i was cute!!! "who was that girl you brought to the bar? she's a cutie!"
i was wrong. the median age at the cougar bar turned out to be around 40. and let's just say there were more mullets, 80s big hair, and pink-and-black ensembles than you can shake a stick at. on the dance floor, a good crowd was grinding to cher's "do you belieeeeeve in life after love" and dance remixes of 80s hits: "aaaaafter the booooys of suuummer had gooooone..." as i was making my way back to our table from the bathroom, gawking at the heavy makeup, hair extensions, and tiny skirts (was that acid wash?), some poor guy asked me to dance. "oh!" i stammered, "i'm sorry, i'm...i'm...going that way." i gestured vaguely into the distance, feeling guilty that i didn't have a better reason.
derek's 19-year-old friend chris commented, "this is so sad! i don't want to be spending my weekends in a bar when i'm 40!" "aw, c'mon," i said, "people get divorced, people are in their 40s and single or whatever. they need a place to go! look how confident these woman are...they feel sexy and they're having a good time!" just as a woman walked by who may or may not have been a prostitute. i continued, "i mean, i still want to be able to go out for a drink with friends on friday nights when i'm 40." at that moment, we glanced over at one of the booths near the window, where another woman was bent over the back of the seat with her ass in the air, laughing. a guy hovered possessively nearby while two other guys grabbed her ass. "okay, fine," i said, "maybe i just won't come to this bar."
at the end of the night, derek gave me a hug: "hey, thanks for coming out!" i said, "aw, i had a good time. and your friend chris is ADORABLE!" i need to work on my future cougar status, you know.
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UPDATE: the chris guy thought i was cute!!! "who was that girl you brought to the bar? she's a cutie!"
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binaryfiend:
Hello : Remember me?!
binaryfiend:
Hello : Remember me?!