SO. According to that veritable website CougarLife, a “cougar” starts at 34 years old. I’ll just pick two holes in this advert/argument: Firstly, I very much doubt anyone can be a Professor at 34. Unless she was a child genius and therefore, in all probability, socially awkward and possibly backward. Hang on – that makes sense. But in any case she BASICALLY CANNOT BE A PROF at 34. No, really

Secondly; 34 is the age of a “cougar” ??? I. Can’t. Even.


I’ve had relationships/and maybe nights of fun – I’m not telling – with men five years younger than me and men 12 years younger than me. I’ve also had similar with men 10-15 years older than me. And men roughly the same age as me.

So what have we learned, chaps?

For the ladies:

If you’re over 30 and you’re shagging someone younger, you’re a Cougar.

If you’re 21-39 and you’re shagging someone older, you’re a gold digger.


If you’re shagging someone around your own age, with a similar wage/social status/etc, then you’re normal. As long as you live together and be all normal and shit.

Brilliant. Glad we’ve cleared that thing up.

If you’re a hetero-normative man, aged 36 (or one-three years older, that’s the max) who owns his own house, earns 100k+ a year and wants to drop a cool $20k on getting married at some delightful venue where the chicken is sub-par, is willing to convince me to have the grandchildren your Mother desperately wants and put up with your boat blocking up the driveway, apart from when you go fishing-drinking with your sexist mates, live in a McHouse in Perth with lovely benchtops and perfect downlighting and go to the one pub in the area once a month and make me drive when we go there, then Bring It. I’ll be hiding, thank you very much societal expectations.


Really, all I need is sex and a handyman. And I’ve got both of those. So what’s that? Not a Lesbian. Not a Spinster. Not a Cougar. Not a Gold digger. Oh God! Where Is My Label???

FFS I am a woman. A person. That is all. Just as all the complex, interesting, selfish, giving, confused, smart, shitty, regular NORMAL other women described above are. And most of us have absolutely no idea what we are doing.



About ohhellwhatthehell

I like gin, mittens and otters, not necessarily in that order. Here's some stuff I felt like writing down when I'm not chained to a desk writing other things for a living. Please use caution when using this site; there may be sweary words, cute animals and general bullshit. Don't say I didn't fucking warn you.
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