I have reached the ripe old age of 38 and this puts me at the younger end of the species lately known as the cougar. I cannot profess to being cougar as I'm not particularly hot and I'm married (which I also think is a bit silly, however that's the topic of another thread).
I was out last Saturday night and, despite the cold weather, I saw an awful lot of skin, stilettos and tacky tattoos on dames young and not-so-young.
It got me thinking: why do women of a mature age insist on living up to some faux-pornstar ideal? Have they completely given up on the idea of being taken seriously?
I have also read about 40-something women say things like, "It's so great going out with a 20-year-old because they have so much energy and make me feel young again."
I've got news for you, honey: he doesn't feel the same way about your crow's feet, laugh lines and botox. He's only with you because you fund his present lifestyle.
Is this what 50 years of second-wave feminism has brought us? The opportunity to slave away for some corporation just to achieve some semblance of financial security and slum around like a predator? Is equality just having the ****ty existence of some salary-man? Is a woman's worth reduced to how long she can get away with behaving like a teenager? Who wants to fight for that?
And in the end you're just old. To deny it and reject the maturity and intelligence it confers for the emptiness of a few nights with some dumb-a$$ beau is just plain stupid. A battle no one can ever win. Joan Rivers, anyone? And as for that Courtney Cox, why did anyone wake up that erect-nippled harridan and put her in a show to rival Desperate Housewives?
Let's hope cougars become an endangered species because their story is already a pretty sad one. I'm not advocating a return to the days of women wearing crinoline skirts and discussing oven cleaner with housewife pals at the supermarket, but there's got to be something better than this. Lesbianism? Nah, I don't like carpet and the spiky hair, and I just know how much guys like that idea.
Otherwise, a lot of perfectly good bras were burnt in vain.
I was out last Saturday night and, despite the cold weather, I saw an awful lot of skin, stilettos and tacky tattoos on dames young and not-so-young.
It got me thinking: why do women of a mature age insist on living up to some faux-pornstar ideal? Have they completely given up on the idea of being taken seriously?
I have also read about 40-something women say things like, "It's so great going out with a 20-year-old because they have so much energy and make me feel young again."
I've got news for you, honey: he doesn't feel the same way about your crow's feet, laugh lines and botox. He's only with you because you fund his present lifestyle.
Is this what 50 years of second-wave feminism has brought us? The opportunity to slave away for some corporation just to achieve some semblance of financial security and slum around like a predator? Is equality just having the ****ty existence of some salary-man? Is a woman's worth reduced to how long she can get away with behaving like a teenager? Who wants to fight for that?
And in the end you're just old. To deny it and reject the maturity and intelligence it confers for the emptiness of a few nights with some dumb-a$$ beau is just plain stupid. A battle no one can ever win. Joan Rivers, anyone? And as for that Courtney Cox, why did anyone wake up that erect-nippled harridan and put her in a show to rival Desperate Housewives?
Let's hope cougars become an endangered species because their story is already a pretty sad one. I'm not advocating a return to the days of women wearing crinoline skirts and discussing oven cleaner with housewife pals at the supermarket, but there's got to be something better than this. Lesbianism? Nah, I don't like carpet and the spiky hair, and I just know how much guys like that idea.
Otherwise, a lot of perfectly good bras were burnt in vain.