Archive for April, 2009

Ask A Couger: How to Travel With Your Younger Boyfriend

When I told a friend that Michael, my younger boyfriend, and I were taking a road trip to San Diego for the weekend, I could see her eyebrows arch even though we were talking by phone. Then I heard her question even though I was the one talking, “What, Pam, could you possibility have to talk about on a 10 hour car ride with a guy nearly half your age?”

Well, Cougarites, let me tell you what I told my friend. Finding something to talk about is the least of your problems when traveling with your cub. It’s keeping up with all the action that really counts. Because if you’re traveling with a younger boyfriend, you will always be on the move and the word, “risk,” will lose all meaning.

Here’s an example from our trip. First off, be prepared for the action to start early. Michael picked me up at 6:30 AM, just as I was falling asleep. So I was kind of grumpy and whiny. I forgot to pack my toothbrush, clothes, underwear, dress shoes, makeup and face cream.

Eventually we hit the road – just the three of us. Yup, Michael insisted on bringing, Nyxi, a puppy that we share in a happy joint custody sort of way (don’t ask). Nyxi is a Border Collie/Lab mix and frankly, she is not only the cutest little thing in the whole world, but also the sweetest, the smartest, and the best behaved. I could hardly say no.

By the time we rolled into San Diego over five hours later, it was late at night so we headed right for the pet hotel. But there was a little hitch concerning the little bitch and they wouldn’t admit her. Something to do with not having papers showing she’d had all her shots. Another thing I’d forgotten to pack.

So there we were, a tired cougar and her cub, and one homeless pup. We drove to The Hilton where we were staying and parked in the main entrance to strategize about what to do with Nyxi.

Michael checked his cell phone for the time and then looked at me somberly. “Okay, here’s the plan,” he said. Suddenly he turned to the pup sitting alert in the back seat, one ear up, one ear flopped over. “Get down! Down!” he ordered. “The valet might see you!” Nyxi yawned widely and started licking her crotch.

“Okay,” he said turning back to me. “It’s 21:25 hours. I’m going to check us in with the bags and maneuver to get a room on the main floor with a balcony. That way we can pass the dog over.” I blinked pretending to follow his plan. “You drive out and pull into the service entrance we passed on the way in,” he continued. “I’ll call you at approximately 21:34 at which point, we rendezvous in the back alley. You got that?”

I blinked again. “Why don’t we just ask them if dogs are okay?”

Michael looked as though the pup had just ordered a double shot of Tequila in Spanish. “When have you ever heard of a Hilton letting dogs in?” he said.

“Just a thought,” I shrugged.

“Look,” he said, “I know this is some serious G.I. Joe shit but we have no choice here.” He slapped my knee making me jump. “Let’s make this happen.”

“Now I know how Barbie feels,” I thought to myself as I watched him jump out of the car and race into the lobby, bags thrown over his wide shoulders.

I drove away from the hotel to find the service entrance. In true Barbie fashion, I missed the turn three times because I was talking to a friend on the phone. When I at last pulled in, I spotted a shadowy figure waving me over to the darkest end of the driveway.

“What the hell took you so long?” said Michael opening the door. Nyxi jumped up and down like she hadn’t seen him for 7 years and he bundled her up in my yellow Ralph Lauren towel like a sausage. All I could see was her little white tipped black tail wagging crazily. Without a word, Michael turned and darted back into the shadows, scurrying over some bushes and disappearing into the recesses of the hotel grounds. “Barbie needs a martini,” I muttered to myself as I headed back to the main hotel entrance.

As I walked through the lobby, I couldn’t resist asking the concierge, “So, what’s your policy on pets?”

“Oh, we love pets,” she said excitedly. “We’re a pet-friendly hotel.”

I gave her a big smile and the thumbs up. “Cool,” I said. “Thanks.”

I was still grinning stupidly by the time I made it to the hotel room. I imagined Michael would be wearing camouflage gear by now, with an UZI over a shoulder and warrior markings on his face. The pup would be sporting a lopsided helmet and growling fiercely. Instead Michael opened the door butt naked. The pup was drinking water out of the ice bucket.

“What are you grinning about,” Michael said scratching his balls as he held the door open for me.

“It’s a pet friendly hotel,” I said almost regretting telling him. I would loved to have seen how he’d get the pup out again.

“Oh, I knew that,” he said waving me away.

“You did not!” I said suspiciously.

“Sure I did,” he said laughing. “I thought you needed a little excitement, that’s all. Got to keep you on your toes!”

I pushed my way past him and dropped on the bed. The weekend had not even started and already I was exhausted. “Next time, it’s a spa with the girlfriends,” I promised myself.

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Ask A Cougar: Does a cougar need to be rich, not just sexy?

Is it enough for an older woman wanting to date a younger man to be sexy or does she need to be rich too? I mean, let’s really think about this because we all know the reverse is true. I’m going to take a windy road to answer this vital question.

Let’s start with TV, which I deeply love. We all agree, I’m sure, that TV is one of the most powerful persuaders of how we see ourselves. Which is exactly why I drove over to my friend’s house for the 10PM premier of the newest reality show, The Cougar.

The Cougar aired last Wednesday on TV Land and watching it was kind of like having to pick up my puppy’s poop – I don’t want to do it but I have to (the neighbors may be watching). The Cougar follows the exact same formula for The Bachelor, only it features a 40-year old woman searching for “ever-lasting love” (what an ol’ fashioned gal) in a jungle of horned twenty-odd year old guys.

The opening of the show introduces Stacey Anderson, AKA, Urbancougar of the month. First we see Stacey in corporate mode, shaking hands with some business types. Then Stacey’s lounging on her pool deck. The voice over goes something like, “Stacey, having just closed a $48 million dollar commercial real estate deal, rewards herself with a relaxing mani-pedi-spray tan combo treatment. Once everything’s dried, you can bet that this sexy little beaver will be back on the phone trying to nab some land for Habit for Humanity. Does our hot Cougar know how to live out loud or what?!”

Why, yes, agrees Stacey. “A cougar today is smart, sassy, driven and successful,” she exclaims philosophically.  “She knows exactly what she wants and is straightforward but not overbearing.  She reeks of confidence and has a style and charisma that emulates class and success.  Her beauty shines from the inside out.  She is a classic timepiece. She’s magnetic in her presence and captures the hearts of young men by her “no B.S.” attitude.”

Stacey, I say to you, “wot is yous banging on about?” (to quote a true TV genius, Ali G, AKA, Sacha Baron Cohen). I thought it was enough to be frightfully oversexed to make it as a cougar. Now you’re telling me I’ve got to be successful too?

What’s a feline to do? Well, for starters, admit TV’s got a problem and just say, ‘off’ (to the remote, not the cub). Don’t let the lack of bank stand between you and a little fun. I mean, take me for instance, I don’t even have a darn job and me and the cub are doing just fine, and even great some might say.

So, rise up, oh cougar wannabes and keep it real. Trust there are young guys out there who will want you just because you’re you. Make love, not money.

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Ask A Cougar: When to have sex

There comes a time in every woman’s life when she has to ask herself, does it really matter how long after the first date you wait before having sex with a guy? A question that brings me to another question from a reader calling herself, “Jaguar.”  Jaguar was annoyed at having been left hanging in the last post and asks, “How long should a cougar wait before having sex with a new cub?”

Good grief, is that really a question? Even when I was a younger woman, I never paid attention to the three-date rule (you know, wait three dates before jumping into bed). In fact, it’s a saintly day if I abide by the three-minute rule. Bill Maher had his “New Rules” and I have my, “SeasonedSex Rules.” Here’s the first one. Regardless of timing, if his dick looks hard and feels hard, it’s probably worth sitting on. I know, I’m bad but you’re allowed to be when people start calling you an “older woman” (that’s SeasonedSex Rule No. 2).

So, I’m joking. I’m not that bad. In fact, I waited over a year before I had sex with my cub, Michael. His youthfulness exuberance initially threw me off my game.  But then the sexual chemistry would keep sneaking up on me, pulling me back in like a magnet. Michael eventually become the accidental cub. What I mean by that is I consciously decided to unconsciously have sex with him, which is easier to manage than it seems. A few martinis are all you need.

Now don’t get me wrong here, I’m not an advocate of drunken sex. I’ve only done that about 712 times in my life. But it does open up one’s perspective. And damn if it doesn’t ease the nerves. And, I was nervous.

Michael had asked me out on a dinner date via a text message with some business people he knows. Can you believe it? A text message! It was a first for me and it went something like:

Michael: cum dinner fri?
Pamela: who, where?
Michael: scotts. 8.
Pamela: you and me?
Michael: other people too
Pamela:  is this a date?
Michael: yes
Pamela: will I be your date?
Michael: yes
Pamela: oh. LOL. ok

I don’t know why I put the, LOL. I must have just learned what it meant and wanted to seem cool. Can you say, “generation gap?” Any way, by the time Friday rolled around my anxiety was peaking. As I drove to meet him at the restaurant (another generational thing, this taking your own car), a slew of scenarios ran through my head. What if he wants to have sex later? I’m 45. He’s 26. What if he wants to stay over and all I want to do is fart in my sleep because I ate too much and the digestion ain’t what it used to be? What if I get tired and can’t make it past 10 PM (it’d been known to happen)?

Now you can understand why I downed a few cocktails the second my rump hit the chair. I remember the appetizer at least. Some crab cake thing. Then I remember riding him like a cowgirl, screaming and laughing like an idiot who’d totally forgotten the big 5-0 was watching me from another room. I vaguely remembering him spanking me too but oddly have no recollection of worrying about the cellulite jiggle.

Funny how age can suddenly became so irrelevant.

So here’s my bottom line. If the sexual chemistry is there and you like the guy and feel good with him, why not go for it? I mean, isn’t that the only honest thing to do? Because once the vibe takes over, it doesn’t matter how old he is, how old you are, how fat you feel, it’s just going happen. And it’s going to be great. Trust me, the worst that can happen is he won’t stop calling you.

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4 Reasons to Avoid Natural Menopause Treatment

I finally hit my limit today. I’m officially fed up with menopause websites that slam “hrt,” or hormone replacement therapy, in order to sell some so called, natural menopause treatment. The natural alternative, they claim, is a miracle product that fixes all your menopause symptoms and makes you feel like a million bucks. Or, at the very least makes them a million bucks.

The set up is always the same. A woman talks about her amazing menopause makeover, how research shows synthetic hormones are dangerous, and how some snake oil saved her life (forgive my sarcasm but you’ll see why in a bit).

Problem number one with the pitch: how can you be unbiased and truthful in your advice if you’re selling a product? It’s simple. You can’t. I just wrote a book on menopause and hormones looking at all the science. You can be sure I avoided any affiliations to companies and organizations selling anything related to menopause. If I do profit, it’s from telling the whole story – not pushing a product angle.

Second problem. When you see a site claiming hormones are dangerous it’s usually because they’re citing the results of the post-menopausal hormone replacement trial known as the Women’s Health Initiative. It was stopped around 2002 because of unexpected negative side effects. Hormone experts now understand that negative results were likely due to when the hormones were started and that most people threw the baby out with the bath water. (I’m really simplifying.)

Third problem. Proponents of these natural solutions claim they have no side effects. Well, if there are no side effects, there are probably no benefits either. To get the benefits of estrogen, you have to take estrogen – and in the right dose. You need a prescription for that. Giving your body a natural alternative instead of the real thing is like putting a 10-Watt bulb into a light socket (your body) that is built for 100-Watt bulb. Sure you get a little light but not enough to do anything with.

Last beef I have with these sites, there’s no science behind the products. I mean none. In the words of my scientist co-author, Dr. Heward, “show me the data.” If you want me to pay you money to put something in my body (and a hormone no less) then you better have a good scientific reason for it, along with a good clinical trial or twenty.

And testimonials don’t count because we all know what works for one person won’t necessarily work for another. Anyway, anyone can make up a glowing endorsement.

So if you want to be on estrogen then be on estrogen, the real thing, in the right dose, and formulation (that is, estrogen creams). Don’t waste your money on the magical mystery potions that people call “natural” as though the word were synonymous with “safe.” I mean, disasters are natural but that doesn’t mean they’re good.

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