Let me admit straight up that I despise the word “cougar” to refer to older women involved in relationships with younger men. The term invokes the image of a predatory female stalking and feasting on a naïve young lover who is somehow assumed to be incapable of making the choice to date an older women with eyes wide open.
Maybe I’m being a bit defensive. Truth be told, I have never fallen in love with an older man. I’ve dated people my age or younger, but more wrinkled than me? Forget it.
The closest I ever came to dating an older man happened during my internship year. I was in a strange town and did not know anyone there. So of course I took myself to the local gym and tennis courts. At the gym, this older guy kept standing behind me in aerobics class. I ain’t no J lo but I knew that it was the ass that had him hooked. When it turned out that he could not only play tennis but that he was as keen on it as I was, well a friendship was immediately struck up.
For most of that spring, we went everywhere and did a lot of things together. But I was not sexually attracted to him so I kept him at arms length. Of course I asked the standard questions one asks a man who is of the age to have a wife and children. He admitted to having one of the former and two of the latter but insisted that he was legally separated and working on his divorce.
Did I believe him? It didn’t matter. I wasn’t turned on and there was no chance in heck that he was ever getting into my pants. So when a wife mysteriously showed up at the start of the summer, I was neither surprised nor devastated. Turns out the poor woman had only stayed behind while her children finished school. But my would-be lover blamed me. He said that because I seemed frigid, he had no choice but to go back to his wife. Can you believe the boldfacedness of that grizzled-up old fart? I had to laugh. To this day it’s a memory that still cracks me up when I think about it.
But enough about me. This article is supposed to be about the Scud Muffin and his latest betrothal.
When Mark Philippoussis embarrassed himself and all of tennis by appearing on a reality show looking for a woman, I could barely watch for shame. He had the choice of “Cougars” or “Kittens”. Most of the women had that sheen of desperation one comes to expect of women who go on reality shows to find fame, I mean a mate. Mark seemed wooden, lost, vapid. Even Flava Flav with his oversized clocks and horrible gold teeth ended up attracting more lust and created more of a feeding frenzy than poor Mark.
In the end Mark picked a Kitten. I forget her name. He picked her over a middle-aged Cougar. I forget her name too. (I could look it up on wiki but I couldn’t be bothered.) The show was a disaster, more ludicrous than my memories of being courted by an elderly fart during my internship year. But hopefully at least Mark got himself laid. In the end HIS relationship with the Kitten didn’t last. I don’t believe anyone was surprised.
Now comes word that Philippoussis is again betrothed. He’s been betrothed before, not to the Age of Love contestant but to a previous Kitten. That relationship didn’t work either. Now he has apparently decided to go Cougar. His new beloved is the actress Jennifer Esposito who has starred in nothing that I remember. Her claim to fame is a brief four-month marriage to the actor, Bradley Cooper. Ms. Esposito is 36 to Mark’s 32. Not quite geriatric territory but closer to Cougar than Kitten. I wish them well. I also hope that Ms. Esposito is a generous woman with a huge bank balance because when last I heard Philippoussis was getting the crap sued out of him.