martinis for milk: Cougar Crossing
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Cougar Crossing
*This post has been edited since its original posting.
Full disclosure: On my "work from home" day, the huz and I try to grab a coffee at the cafe where I sometimes go to work. We drop Nate at school, take the Goose along and try to have a bit of husband and wife time (while she tears the place apart and we futilely bribe her with a chocolate chip cookie). Then they walk home while I get some work done. It's a sweet ritual actually.
Some weeks it's packed in there. Others, not so much. Last week it was just us and a pair of moms avec enfants nearby. Lucy was, without a doubt, in their way as they were leaving. J wrangled her wriggly self out of the way and the mom was all, "That's OK. She's so cute..." and then the reckoning came.
"Oh, I recognize you from the drop-in," said the mom blushing. I subconsciously narrowed my eyes in her direction and she was quick to recover. "--Your daughter! I recognized your daughter... ahem... from the drop-in."
I am not the jealous type. I don't entertain the thought that my recently un-jobbed husband will end up in some kind of Little Children-esque neighbourhood tryst. (OK maybe I do sometimes, but then I kind of giggle. Because really? The huzzle? He generates enough belly button lint to knit a sweater. Only I could still find the sexy in that.) But I was totally offended by this woman trying to play me like I don't know what goes on at the drop-in centre.
Bitch, you think I don't know? You think I didn't spend the last five years checking out the hot dad ass at the music class, the gym class, the library? You think I don't have the lake to the Danforth covered? You think I haven't given a select few worth mentioning nicknames like Bon Jovi Dad and Chandler Dad? Shiiiit.
I have always said that my husband's target market was gay men and cougars. Those are the two groups who are wise enough to see his awesomeness. They have been around the block, battered around and know a nice guy when they see one.
This was not an issue in our twenties -- for me at least -- except when we'd go one cottage benders with our gay friends and some bold acquaintance would inevitably try to crawl into bed with J. Yes, with me in it. But the cougar drool would only appear if we were at say... a Huey Lewis concert at Casino Rama. (J LOVES Huey Lewis! His CHFI taste in music only makes him more appealing to cougars.)
But now that my peers (and myself included) are on the doorstep of cougardom (perhaps we're still pumas), I've been wondering whether women my age would start noticing my husband as a catch. Add the boredom of motherhood to the mix, a pinch of the huzzle's amazing way with kids and ding ding ding -- this cake is baked. The huz suddenly has the appeal of a Cinnabon with extra frosting on the side.
J, of course, eats this up. "Oh, we're on our way there right now!" Say what? After years of being "just a friend" he's loving the "hot dad" neighbourhood celebrity status. But drop-in mamas, watch your backs. This cougar's got sharp claws.
No comments:
Post a Comment