So I'm a Cougar

I've toyed with writing this post all weekend. I am not usually one to post all my personal business all over social media, but today I felt the need to tell my little story.

Yes, the title describes it all. I am a cougar. I like younger men. I am not really sure why I like younger men, but I have taken to telling myself that I don't like how men my own age seem to want to tell me how to live/be. I like to be me, and after years of trying to be someone I am not, I have settled on an understanding of who I am, for the most part.

About six week ago, for reasons I am not entirely sure of, I began a "friends-with-benefits" relationship with my lawn guy. I have known this guy going on three years, and he is 15 years my junior. I have always found him attractive physically, and found him friendly and personable when I have interacted with him. I knew he was having trouble with his marriage, as he would sometimes confide in me when he was there to mow. I always had a cup of coffee or a bottle of water for him, in case he wanted to take a break and visit (in the South, visiting means "talking").

I would like to clarify here by saying that although I was always mildly attracted to him, I never thought it would ever go anywhere. There is what I have now come to understand is a vast cultural difference between us, in addition to the age difference. Of course, with him being Mexican and myself being as white as they come I knew there was a cultural barrier there. Don't take that wrong: I am not a racist, but I am somewhat pragmatic about differences in culture. There was also the obstacle of his being my yard guy. He remained professional at all times, though. And, of course, he has been married since he has been mowing for me.

But about eight weeks ago that changed. He came to mow for me, and he told me he was again having trouble with his much younger wife. I listened to his general story of how he felt wronged by her, and how he just didn't know what he was going to do. I listened with a great deal of sympathy. His story was very much like my own. But that day, as I walked down the walkway with him to his truck, he turned to me and said, "You look nice, and I like your toes (I had just gotten a pedi and had bright green toenail polish)!" I tried not to look shocked and replied with my thanks. Then he asked if he could come by sometime when he wasn't working and just talk, because he felt comfortable talking to me. I said, "of course! Anytime!" I never thought he would show up.

Two weeks later, without hearing a word from him, I texted him and requested he come and mow again. He did not show at the agreed-upon time, though. I called him and he answered, saying that he would come later. I told him to just text me when he was on his way, as I had errands. This was often the case with him, as he over-extends himself with a full-time job, a part-time job, and about 30-40 lawns per week. When he finally showed up, he looked awful, and had clearly been on a bender the night before. I asked him if he was alright, and he replied, shamefacedly, "I'm hungover..." Well, I can't judge anyone on that one. I just gave him water and sat with him on several breaks (unusual for him).

He confided in me, again, that he was really through with the girl he is married to. He could no longer abide her cheating and various other issues they had. He just didn't want to be alone, though. I, being the helpful soul that I am, piped right up and said, "You need a friend with benefits!"

He blinked at me for a moment and asked what the hell that was. I laughed and explained. He just nodded thoughtfully as I jumped up to go check on supper, which was cooking in the crockpot. He asked what was for supper, and I invited him to come eat that night (I was having friends over, as well). He said he would not come until after everyone left, if that was alright.

When he showed up he was not in his old, beat up work truck. He was in a flashy, new truck, wearing nice clothes (I had never seen him in anything other than mowing clothes). He came in, I served him food, and afterwards we sat on my porch for a few hours, talking. We had both had a glass of wine, and I was feeling restless. I live near a downtown area, so I suggested a walk downtown, and perhaps a stop in the local pub for a drink.

He went with me, I had too much to drink, he brought me back home. We sat and talked for hours and hours more. He asked me if I would be his friend with benefits. I'm not an idiot: he didn't have to ask me twice.

By the next night, we were having sex. Every night. The first two nights we were at his apartment, and when I asked him to drive me home, he would try to cajole me into sleeping with him. He hated sleeping alone. I wouldn't, so after that he stayed every night at my house, with the exception of a week he was on vacation with his kids, and then in the last week.

I have not been married or lived with a man since 2002. I am used to sleeping alone (well, my dog sleeps with me). After the first couple days, I got used to the idea, then, somewhere, somehow, I started liking sleeping with him. He is a fabulous cuddler, and seldom snores.

The sex is wonderful.

But a few weeks ago, I realized I was getting too attached to him. I feared I was falling for someone who was wildly inappropriate for me. I tried to pull away, but he was there every night. Every. Single. Night.

And he is charming when he wants to be. He often tells me I am pretty (I seldom receive compliments from men, as I am overweight). He has a preference for curvy women, and he is not ashamed to publically display his affection for me (another thing that took some getting used to). Now I enjoy all that immensely.

But, alas, I feel our fling is coming to an end. I know he wants to pursue others, and has been honest with me in stating that while he cares for me, greatly enjoys sex with me, and wants to retain my friendship, he does not have romantic feelings for me. I understand this, am not shocked by it, nor do I really feel I am in love with him. But I am still saddened by the loss of intimacy with him.

There is a positive side to this, though. First, and foremost, he is still my friend, and I have a great respect for him. Second, he has given my self-esteem a much-needed boost. Third, and possibly the most resounding to my life, he has shown me that I do not want to live out my life alone.

For the last several years, I have put on a great deal of weight and convinced myself that I am okay with being alone for the rest of my life. I am certain that I built a wall of fat around myself as a barrier. No one can get close to me. He has shown me that not only was I wrong about being alone, but that I want to be cherished, loved, and cared for. I thanked him yesterday for this wonderful gift he has given me.

Interestingly enough, as soon as this epiphany hit me, my whole relationship with food changed. I have been going out every morning and walking my dog (also hunting Pokemon), and have dropped maybe 10 pounds in the last two weeks. I almost feel like my old, energetic self!

Tonight I find myself feeling a bittersweet ache for this friend/lover and for what might have been in another time and place. In my heart, I know that I will cherish this memory and take something away with me that I will honor. I will move on, and have already ceased closing myself away from the possibility of relationships.

I'm not gonna promise that I won't continue to date younger men, though. ;P