This past weekend I celebrated the recent engagement of a dear friend from college to his long term girlfriend. We went out for dinner and drinks in Queens and then moved to an awesome bar in Williamsburg called Barcade. Think Qbert, Paperboy, Pac-Man, Frogger. I sucked at them all but I blame it on the pitcher of mango margaritas and the absurd amount of captain-and-cokes I consumed before attempting to play any of them.
My college friends are perhaps not so subtly trying to set me up with one of their friends: a wonderful, sweet, adorable, hippie/vegetarian. Not only do we have a similar upbringing and outlook on life, but he impressed me by tearing off a piece of paper towel, folding it in two, and then tucking the unused portion on top of the roll. This, my friends, is the key to my eco-friendly heart.
We have spent a bit of time together away from our friends and so far conversation flows smoothly without too many awkward pauses. Brandon came out Friday night and we raised our glasses and toasted our friends together, played some video games, and stepped outside for the occasional cigarette.
As the night drew to a close, we rode the Manhattan-bound L train together, and he asked if he could walk me back to my apartment. Being that I could barely walk on my own, I didn’t think this was such a bad idea.
By the time we made it back to Hoboken, I had a pounding headache and realized that a recent bout with Aunt Flow meant I was Ibuprofin-less. I sat down next to him on the couch and he started to kiss me. Gentle. Soft. But I panicked because he is 26 and I think at 31 that might officially make me a cougar.
I can’t get past this. I’m wondering if it’s normal to feel this way and if it would ever be possible to move beyond the fact that there are five years separating us. There are, however, other factors that contribute to me holding back as well. As I mentioned before, he’s a wonderful human being—the kind I should take home to meet the parents. But typically, I’m not attracted to guys like that. I like the bad boys. He’s also not someone I want to experiment with because I foresee hurt feelings and complications within the circle of friends. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, I want desperately to sleep around a bit, make up for lost time, and enjoy this single girl status I’m starting to get the hang of.
Even still, it was nice to share the bed again. To spoon and feel desired, if only for a night.
I also just found out that the boy who twirled me on the lawn at the Phish show in Hartford earlier this summer is also 26. I’m thinking I should play that number in the lottery this week.
Would you date a younger guy and how young is too young? Cougars in training need to know.