A retired Vegas Showgirl walks into a bar…….

Proof of Age

He was 22.  I know that because I carded him before I handed him his beer.  Sweet kid.  He sat at my table and ordered a lager and a pizza and laughed at my jokes and bantered and flirted.  I had fun.  The conversation was lively and made the evening go by a little faster.  And just as he asked me for the check, he asked me for my phone number.
 
I didn’t take him seriously for a minute.  The innocent flirtation we shared during his brewhouse experience was more of a side joke than anything.  So I turned him down with the same good natured kidding we shared all night.  “I can’t, Sweetheart.  I’m almost twice your age and would eat you alive.”  And I handed back his credit card and transaction receipts wishing him good night.
 
On the signed receipt he left a message: “I love sexy cougars.  Make it happen.”  And underneath was his cell number.  A rush of pride and astonishment flushed my cheeks. Not because I had a new prospective beau in the future, or even that a 22 year old was hitting on me.  I had finally reached a new rite of passage.  Yes, proudly I was a cougar.
 
Most women will confirm, there are two ego defeating moments in life.  The first is when someone calls you ma’am.  Usually it’s said by someone younger, (but surely they can’t be that much younger or at least that is what the ego feeds you).  I don’t remember my first time, I’ve blocked it out, but I remember thinking, “Whoa, seriously?” and then it happened again.  And again.  And slowly but surely, as the ma’ams increased the ID request from bartenders decreased.  And then out of nowhere my need to present proof of age was no longer necessary.  Obviously I looked old enough to drink, or was it (ego defeating moment number two) that I just looked old.
 
Everything changes with the title cougar.  It completely nullifies all ill effects of the word ma’am and somehow makes it so much better. When a man calls a woman a cougar he is acknowledging that she is an older women found sexually desirable by males in the prime of their virility.  Who doesn’t enjoy things virile.  Who doesn’t enjoy, being enjoyed by things virile.
 
There are ma’ams out there that are not yet cougars, and they can’t be cougars because they need to spend a few more years just being ma’am.  And then there are those that aren’t ma’ams or cougars, and maybe it’s ok that they aren’t a ma’am yet, but they certainly have a long way before becoming a cougar.  I feel a little sorry for them really.  All they have to look forward to in the mean time is getting older and no longer being carded. I don’t have to worry about that; I may not get carded but I’m not carded as attractive option for virile men.  Life is good.
 
I didn’t call the 22 year old and knew I wasn’t going to, but I showed all my brewhouse friends his credit card receipt and message.  I let them know if they needed any assistance that night, to just ask for the brewhouse resident cougar.
 
And I left work smiling…. and purring.
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