Cougar: (informal) an older woman who seeks sexual relationships with much younger men
What is an older woman?
When I was twelve, I thought my cousin was an older woman. She was nineteen.
The word “older” is so—well, old.
It doesn’t mean anything.
I will tell you right now what makes a woman attractive. It is not because she has reached her fortieth birthday and still looks like she’s twenty-three. No—the reasons “cougars,” as they fancifully are called, are attractive to younger men are as follow:
They’ve had enough birthdays that they’re no longer fretting over their biological clock—to drop a kid or two before they leave the planet.
They’ve been disappointed enough by men that they have a much better idea of what they want.
They have found their clitoris and are not asking you to go on a quest to locate it.
That means they are able to control their own orgasm without demanding you do something supernatural to acquire it.
They can talk. (And I’m not speaking of chattering. The journey has given them some experiences to share.)
They smell mature. They smell like women instead of honey and flowers. It’s very alluring
And if they are smart, they’ve learned not to bullshit men or pump up their egos, creating monsters.
I’m not so sure I like the term “cougars.” I think it’s rather degrading.
But I think it’s brilliant to distinguish what makes a woman valuable as time passes and realize that she doesn’t have nearly as much to prove—nor as much to complain about.
“The imaginations of a man’s heart are evil continually from his youth.”
Rather than considering this a degrading statement from the Good Book, we should understand that it is the working climate and environment that exists in the interactions of human beings, as we attempt to move forward beyond our jungle roots to a lifestyle with a higher sensitivity.
What we’re working on is how we conceive things.
If every woman is just a storage house for a pair of breasts and a vagina, and every man has to be concerned about the length of his penis, as every country contends that it is the first and the best, and all religions struggle for supernal supremacy, it is a good idea to slow down and realize that since we normally conceive things in wickedness, it might be healthy to saturate ourselves in contentment and find deeper and purer motives for our actions.
We don’t have to.
We can become defensive and think that since everybody else is so rudely constructed, we must maintain our lack of civility if we want to survive.
Yet in a rock fight, the only people who escape injury are those who refuse to throw rocks, but instead, retreat to contemplate richer and more enlightened solutions.
The battlefield of my human journey is riddled with foxholes where I’ve made stands, only to find myself retreating–often in humiliation.
It makes me wonder if there’s any purpose at all for being obstinate.
Ten or fifteen years ago, I raised an objection over the word “chick.” I was offended on behalf of all women. Matter of fact, I opened up the discussion several times in a roomful of people of all generations.
After a lengthy discussion, I found that I was the only person who objected. The much older women remembered when girls were called “chicks” and it was a kind of a hip, Beach Boys thing. The younger girls felt it was a kindly, gentle alternative to “bitch.”
The case I made about the word being chauvinistic or degrading was met with a sympathetic nod but not much approval.
Here’s what I learned from the exercise:
If people aren’t upset about something they experience every day, I will do them no benefit by stirring them up and making them upset.
Brothel: (n) a house where men can visit prostitutes.
Aside from the fact that no little girl aspires to be a prostitute and that the environment surrounding “the oldest business” is usually permeated with drugs and crime, the whole adventure has a nasty quality that accentuates many of the more degrading aspects of human nature.
For some reason, we have begun to justify this particular activity by saying it “empowers women” since they are receiving money for what they would usually give away.
But dare I say, any average human being sitting on a chair in the middle of a room, observing the transaction between a prostitute and his or her customer, and then viewing the experience, would probably not walk away saying, “That is one damn lucky whore.”
We can speak nobly and liberally about such things because we don’t ever actually visit brothels.
The crime, the evil, the subjugation, the stench and the humiliation involved in the operation of a brothel takes it out of the realm of the business world–being able to join the Chamber of Commerce and network with the local doughnut shop.
Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) — J.R. Practix