The Cougar Mixer

 

Odd as it sounds, it’s a godsend to have a friend who wants to drag you to a Cougar Mixer.   You need someone who won’t let you cancel and to laugh with before, during and after.  In a committed relationship, she was curious to see what it was like and to be my wingman.  We read up and tried to imagine how it would be.  We figured there would be way more women than men and had been warned they would be predatory.  We guessed that the men would be awkward young guys who for various reasons were not dating women their own age; and the horny set, who believe that all of us were just dying to get laid.  We were prepared.

Or so we thought.  We were caught off guard when the frazzled valet parker told us there was no room left in the parking lot but we could park on the street.  Looking for any reason to bail, I suggested we just leave and get a drink somewhere, but my intrepid friend would hear nothing of it.  As we wound our way out of the parking lot, following a trail of cars -with one or two women in them-we could see another line of cars creeping in, unaware of the lack of parking-with one or two women in them.  Unless the men had all gotten here early and grabbed the parking, there were no men. 

We parked and walked up the street to the restaurant.  Neither of us wanted to ask the hostess which way the cougar mixer was, so we stood there looking around until she cheerily sang out-Here for the singles party?  Yes, we confidently said and went the way she pointed and got in line.  There seemed to be just women in line, except one 30ish guy right behind us, who seemed unwilling to meet our eyes.  Hmm, I worried, were we not cougar material?

 

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