Cougars and Widows

 

Walking on the nature trail it’s not usual to share the place with literally dozens of bikers and joggers. Local clubs use it for meet-ups and training and one bike club alone travels in packs of 30-40 cyclists. These clubs seem to be dominated by men in the prime of their lives, nice eye candy. Yesterday I was on the trail with my niece-in-law and Levi, my dog, when she asked, “Are you sure you don’t want another man in your life?”  No, I assured her, dating and romance are behind me. “Too bad,” she said, “Levi is a man magnet!” After thinking about it for a few seconds, I realized it’s true. I can’t take him any where that I don’t get comments like, “Nice looking dog,”  “beautiful schnauzer,” and “I like your dog.” One slow poke elderly gentleman we meet often on the trail even brings Bonz treats along to give to Levi. Jeez, do you think he’s trying to woo me?

It’s a good thing I look my age. I carry around my share of extra pounds---someone has to do it---and I have enough wrinkles that I’m amazed, at times, that I can still recognize myself in the mirror. Have you ever been startled when you see yourself in a mirror unexpectedly? I have. Who is that old person? I suspect most of us have an image stuck in our brains of what we look like and I doubt many of those images match our true ages. Soul mates can do that, too---look at each other and only see one another looking as fresh-faced, fit and bright-eyed as the day they fell in love. My self image shaves at least three decades off my age and when I look at members of the oppose sex---you guessed it---I am attracted to guys 35 to 40 years old. The guys in my peer group are too elderly to have any sex appeal what so ever. I’ve always thought it was kind of pathetic to watch an old woman pawing all over a guy half her age so as I age I’ve started working on seeing myself as I really am and not what I wish I still was. God forbid I should start man shopping some day and find myself browsing on the top floor when I should be shopping in the bargain basement.

Today I had an appointment with a young doctor who made me think of old lady cougars. Lord help me, he could have made me cross over that forbidden line and, trust me, there are no aspiring cougars living in my brain. He was quite full of himself, a bit of a looker with a jock’s body and we had the same quirky sense of humor. It was one of those chance encounters that leaves you feeling good, the kind where you know exactly where the other person’s sentences are going and you can finish them for each other. We were laughing so hard it’s a wonder no one came in the exam room to see what was so darn funny. I was getting tested for carpal tunnel syndrome---turns out I have it in both hands---plus the fall I took in May when I broke my arm aggravated it enough in my dominant hand to give me “trigger finger.” Two or three appointments with a physical therapist to teach me some exercises will, hopefully, buy me a year or two before the carpal tunnel has to be addressed. Until then, I have no reason to return to Dr. Hot Stuff, thanks goodness! Another appointment with him too soon might have me offering to buy him a drink after he gets off work. And I don’t have enough money in the bank to become a cougar to a doctor! Isn't that what's in it for the boy toys?---the older woman pays for elaborate vacations, a sports car and Bentley Limited Edition Platinum sunshades to match that bikini she buys him for their first trip together?

When I was a teenager I was quite boy-crazy so it doesn’t surprise me that in my widowhood I’ve started checking out the men I across paths with. (And I didn’t take all those nude figure drawing classes just to forget how to appreciate the human form. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.) But in all seriousness if I was a young widow this would the time in the process of adjusting to single living that I’d be fantasizing about getting laid. I’ve read it often enough in young widow’s blogs to know this is a normal frustration/vow/perplexing revelation for them. So if you’re a young widow thinking along these lines, I have a man magnet of a dog I could rent out. He’s guaranteed to start more than a few conversations with members of the opposite sex and who knows where that can lead. ©