It started out with a funny email.
The jeune homme wittily remarked that in my search for a seasoned man I was overlooking flavor.
I was taken by his humor, entranced by his intelligence.
For being young, he was self-assured, sweet, genuine, and warm.
His words drew me in.
When we first met, I was struck by how handsome he was.
As a marathoner, he was in perfect bodily form.
I couldn't believe me eyes-I felt I won the fairy tale lottery.
But what seduced me about this Prince Charming was his beguiling manner.
He made love to me so tenderly it make me weak in the knees.
Such unbounding joy should occur on every birthday.
Our clandestine affair continues in correspondence.
The second jeune homme was different.
Tall, sweet, but not as skilled in the art of seduction.
His Midwestern style was simple, direct.
What he lacked in savoir faire, he made up for in technique.
But there was something about him that did not fit with me.
His words fell flat; his demeanor more hewn.
The relationship disintegrated under the weight of the blood moon eclipse.
I am now a cougar without any cubs.
kay, my foray as a cougar lasted a couple of months. Granted, I only experienced two jeune hommes during this period but they were enough to give me my cougar thrill without the cub hangover.
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