Tears of a Cougar

You would be shocked, I think, if you knew what I got up to in my younger days.

You will have noticed I don't talk much about my bedroom affairs with the ladies. One reason being, I'm immersed in it all day (and night) long. And by 'it', I mean pussy and the acquisition thereof. Like real life itself, I'm usually too busy actually doing it to write about it. Still, a few words from the front line are in order.

Permit me to let you in on a secret. For years now, using intricate algorithms and unique qualitative evaluations, I've organised the females in my social orbit into three (3) precisely delineated groups. The last group, which I shall call 'C Squad', the subject of this report, consists of predatory, highly-sexed, single/divorced (or to-be-divorced) women in their 40s-50s, a.k.a. cougars.

Some background. Been there, done that--multiple times. I've at least a decade's worth of experience with this particular animal. In fact in the early days I led field excursions to collect data for research activities related to cougar-hunting, some of which you may have seen already. Our focus was on upscale sites in Newport Beach, including the infamous Quiet Woman, Bandera, R&D, and Gulfstream. Our excuse? We were young and dumb.

Now that I'm older, I can look back with more clarity. Let me assure you, cavorting with cougars can be soul-breaking work, especially for a charming, sensitive chap such as yours truly. And I say this because these women are desperately unhappy creatures, particularly the ones who are divorced and alone. And that includes most of them. This is the secret no one wants to talk about, least of all divorced women themselves. There's only so much happiness one can derive from a large house near the beach and expensive sports cars.

I'm prompted to discuss this issue by a recent newspaper article on the plight of rich divorcees: 'Dating Tips for Uptown Divorcées: Middle-Aged Millionaires Are Just Not That Into You' in The New York Observer (6/25). American women divorce not only because they can, but also because they are strongly encouraged to do so, fueled by visions of endless days of carefree happiness and lunches with girlfriends over Salad Niçoise and chardonnay and exotic travel with sexy young hunks. 'Eat Pray Love', in other words. But reality, of course, invariably turns out to be something a bit different. As the article states:

Where most rich divorcées fail is in assuming they can replace their husbands with a newer model pretty much like the old one. Sorry to say, this tends not to be the case. Most of the time, the divorced well-to-do male is not looking for his equal, but rather for a sexretary from the Midwest, preferably without an opinion. As one recently divorced hedge funder told me: “Being married to a smart, opinionated woman is work! Now I just want tits on a stick, a blonde wig and someone to tell me I’m great when I get home."

As you know, a successful chap with options is not going to settle for a divorced woman his own age (or older), whose bitterness and disillusionment cling to her like the odor of a freshly-used litter box.

And so the party continues.

All those divorced women, alone and lost to memory, crying cougar tears in glasses of wine.