By David C
I used to live in Kenya, a stunning country whose silver beaches are lined with tropical palms, fluorescent corals and young Maasai African men… rubbing sun cream onto middle-aged German women.
At the ignorant and un-lubricated age of 18, when I first encountered this phenomenon, I assumed these relationships to be solely financial – not the case at all. Replace palm trees with crack-cocaine salesmen and fluorescent corals with neon club lights and you’ll notice Manhattan is host to exactly the same sort of chronophilic behavior. Attraction to someone outside of one’s own age group is common amongst expiring men for obvious physiological reasons, but as a youthful ‘cub’ my interest lies in the emerging tendencies of the older (or less-young) female elite – COUGARS!
In the late 16th Century Queen Elizabeth 1st (53) flew the wrinkly flag for the MILFs when she had an affair with the Earl of Essex (26) and since then Demi Moore, Gabrielle Solis and my dentist have led the ‘cougar revolution’ into the new decade. The question is, why are there so many more of these playful paraphiles parading around?
Prowling 40-somethings are melting through the generations like crumbling Pavlova in an unplugged fridge: fortunately the crusty meringue barely escapes the rusting upper shelves, whilst the soft bits form a tasty glazing over the fresh fruit at the bottom (us). I appreciate that our utopic romantic ideology, rippling wash-board abs and youthful stamina are more appealing than a husband who could use his own nasal hair to fashion a toupee for his balding genitals, but are we really worth the chase? Well… yes, apparently.
A self-confessed cougar explained to me that she approaches younger men regularly, not just for their youthful good looks, but also for their non-traditional appreciation of females. It transpires that we have grown up in a generation that views women as equals rather than as subordinates and are therefore not threatened by their wealth and experience. As such, we can concentrate less on feeling threatened by their independence, and more on satisfying all their wildest neo-teenaged bedroom fantasies.
However, I am also told that the pre-frontal cortex – the part of the brain that makes most decisions – is not fully developed in males until the age of 25. I for one have no problem deciding that I would prefer to carry out my own colonic irrigation with a straw than to be married or have children dribbling down my shirt… but I imagine immaturity is up there on the list of drawbacks cougars might consider.
We should also ask what a horny young stud could find appealing about a woman who will loose her dentures before her bra, and whose pussy can most accurately be described as the hair between her boobs. Well, the truth is that not all of them look like the product of someone cleaning out the bath plug with a half-chewed breadstick. With intelligence, experience, natural and non-natural good looks, cougars are stealing men away from their own daughters without even the offer of a sportsman’s double (look it up!). If you happen to be one, I applaud you for maintaining such class and energy above the cesspool of stagnating, sweat-pant-clad slugs most women succumb to.
I’ve met many cougars prowling the nightlife scene in New York and have noticed a few subtleties that govern their success with the prey. Those whose bodies are still clinging together are not afraid to advertise them, but this must be done tastefully. I’m told the general rule is 2/4: you have four seductive areas on your body – shoulders, back, waste and rack – and only two of these should be naked at any one time (unless, of course, a post-apocalyptic waxwork Mrs Doubtfire is the look you’re going for). Similarly, your seduction techniques, whilst effortless, can often be a little, well… terrifying. I don’t usually need you to remind me where my bits are (or where yours are, for that matter) to be attracted, and biting is definitely off-limits in the first five minutes.
However, drop the pretence that you are as young as you look and you can undoubtedly bring a level of elegant flirtation to the evening that your adolescent counterparts can’t compete with. But there is one more snag… insecurity. I fear that your crippling fear that your hip may crumble before you get to the bar to talk to us is hindering your confidence. In my opinion the toy-boys of New York, mature enough to be proud of their sophisticated tastes, should revel in the opportunity to learn something new about dating and about romance. So have fun exerting your power as the elegant temptress he dreamed about when he was 13 and you’ll soon know the answer to my opening question!