Currently Chasing: A cougar collar!

So my friend calls me up with a dilemma. There is this 19-year-old hitting on her. She used to be his high school teacher. The excitement is there of course. But so are the “What are you fucking thinking" fairies sitting on her shoulders. What is it about younger boys that make them think they can step to mature women? I mean, what do they possibly have to offer, besides rabbit-like abilities?

However, where is the dilemma? Really. Should she even be contemplating this? I mean, does the term teenager mean anything to you? I say this after having been engaged to a 21 year old at the ripe ol’ age of 29, so I’m a fucking pot calling a kettle a cougar. So where then is the cutoff? 18 I guess.

But again, I ask is there even anything attractive about a 19 year old? Well, let me answer that. YES.

I mean, good lord. Still has all his hair. Still has passion. Still has a six pack. Still isn’t allowed to drink a six pack! Still has all his hair. Able to fucking leap tall buildings in a gosh darn single bound! Are you kidding!? What’s not to love? Well except that you can’t take them anywhere except to the batting cages or the bowling alley.

So really, the only way to date someone of such a young age is to keep it a secret. And the only way to keep something like that a secret is to keep that dude locked in your basement. Because guess what…he’s going to tell!

He’s going to tell everyone at your son’s high school. He’s going to tell all the fucking PTA moms! He's gonna tell greeters at Wal-Mart. You know why? Because you are hot…and fucking old, and a damn teacher! And he’s doing you! No young boy can keep that shit a secret. A MILF? You are done for. Labeled a cougar until you marry someone bald! And that’s the way it goes.

So she asked for my advice. Yikes. Do it. Wait, don’t do it. Fuck it. Do it. Shit, don’t do it. By now she’s probably already done it. I mean, you can't just keep that shit brewing while you wait around for me to publish a fucking blog, right? DON’T DO IT!

Oh please, what am I? The moral police? DO IT!

He’s 19! He’s an adult, right?! He knows exactly what he wants out of life. He’s ready to make the hard choices. He’s ready to raise your kids and forgo playing X-Box to fix the garbage disposal that you left on last night, because you couldn’t hear that it was on over the fucking sound of the dishwasher. Hell no, he doesn’t want to go out and play football with his friends. He’d much rather come over to your house and watch Sex in the City reruns. He’s perfect…until he’s 20. And until the first time he calls you Mom.