Of Cougars and Men


But, but, but… OK wait, let me tell you the story.  

So a few months back I went to this pool party thing at my apartment and met this cute guy.  I’m talking Trey-Songz-in-his-glory-days cute, with the haircut and the dark skin and the lips and the facial hair and the lips and the facial hair… Oh, and then there was the body. By God there was the body. It was the type that said he liked to work out, you know, lift things, but also said he was confident enough in his skin not to become Johnny Bravo. Ladies, you’d probably get the picture better if I said it was the kind of body that you wanted to ‘accidentally’ bump into, giggle, roll your hair round a finger and say something stupid like “oh my God, you’re all, like, totally hard”.  Get it now? And finally, he had perfected the art of leaning in just close enough to almost invade your space while talking but speaking so low while looking right in your eyes that you found yourself happily completing the invasion till you could smell his cologne and feel his heat radiating and notice the little chip in his tooth that gave him a slight lisp and wonder if you could fit your…

Sorry, where were we? OK, hot guy, pool party, hot and bothered me.  It didn’t really help that he was able to comfortably carry a conversation on just about any topic my befuddled brain could churn out and was being the perfect gentleman by bringing me my drinks and largely ignoring the bevy of ladies unnecessarily laughing at all his jokes.  Then just when I had had the conversation with myself and decided for once to break my rule about fraternizing with the neighbors, his driver’s license fell out of his wallet at my feet and lo and behold I discovered that my dream man had just turned 22.

Now, I’m as much of a cougar as the next girl but I try to draw the line at guys who my lipstick is older than; and so when the night was over and he asked for my number (apartment, I had already volunteered the phone number the minute he took off his shirt earlier) I smiled sadly and told him it wasn’t a good idea.

For the next month or so he called and texted and Whatsapped but though I pined and yearned I stood my ground and refused to rob the cradle.  And when the calls and texts finally stopped coming it was like a knife through my heart but I patted myself on the back and told me that I had done what was best for us both, after all even if I had found a way to deal with the fact that some of my shoes were half his age he wouldn’t have wanted to be saddled with an old crow like me himself.  And it was on this mental high horse I was as I went out this evening to check my mail and saw him making out with my 43 year old neighbour.


10 responses »

    • I’ll probably do them when I see you, Lekan 😉. Lol! Really, though, I think the best stories are those with a fair amount of truth and a fair amount of fiction. And the reader is left to decide which bits are which.

  1. @phonicphoenix in Nigeria, I doubt if many girls do. How do I know? The players and ladies men you know, are they usually more 6 pac or above 6 figures salary packed?

  2. But, but, but… OK wait,

    Lizi!!!!!! Why are you revealing our secrets about this facial hair thing na! Now all the guys will go join the #BeardGang and then….
    Your prowess as a wordsmith is undeniable. This was fun to read. My jaw actually dropped as I read the last sentence.
    We want more!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s