The Run Down Cougar Canyon

If you're tuning in late, read the previous post.

Hubby and I are trying not to act too shocked about this whole thing. I suspect that Hubby is saying to himself---like commenter Just Bob---(Damn! Where were all the cougars and horny high school teachers when I was growing up?), so I don't allow him to be very indignant about this.

And since the woman in question is his age, I just don't think it's appropriate for him to comment too much on it.

Not that he would, I don't think---he's really a conservative and somewhat uh prissy guy, but over the years, I've run into ::koff:: "gentleman" (some were friends of my dad who didn't consider that the small fry---mainly me---were listening) pontificate about the wear and tear and saggage of women of a certain age, while complacently ignoring the fact that they had bigger titties, droopier butts and prolly hadn't seen their own peckers that were damply moldering under their beer bellies for at least a decade.

Ever hear the old joke--and truly, I'm not trying to pick on Donald Trump since I made the comment about his hair in the last post---and his divorce from Marla Maples?

Did you know that Donald divorced Marla because she violated their prenuptial agreement?

Yep. She turned 30. Bahahahaha.

But I guess when I cheered Demi and Ivana for marrying their cabana boys, I should have figured that at some point I'd have to put my money where my mouth is. Karma is weird that way.

And Ouch.

Sooooo....knowing first hand how sad and achingly lonely Big Kid has been, I'm not going to put up a full-frontal opposition to any of it. If I do, with his issues, I can't think of anything that will make him more determined to hang in there and see it through.

If it works out and he's happy, then what more could I ask for?

He's been so sad for so long.

If it doesn't work out, then it's a different and hopefully informative life experience under his belt.

I'm pleasant when she calls, but no, I'm not inviting her to Sunday dinner. Nor am I going to facilitate any of it by being his mommy-cab and driving him down to the city for a date. They're grown-ups and can figure it all out for themselves.

By the same token, he has to realize that I'm uncomfortable with this, and if he wants to have hearts-to-hearts about it, he has to be ready to take the flak from everybody. If Ashton Kutcher can do it, why can't he?
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Random comments from the peanut gallery so far:

Big Kid's therapist: Run, don't walk away from this!
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Big Kid's Friend: Does she have all of her own teeth?

Big Kid: Do you know how I could find out?
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Big Kid: Did you ever see that movie Harold and Maude (he's apparently been primed on this--and she hasn't heard about Mrs. Robinson)?

Me: Yes. But obviously you haven't.

Big Kid: Well it's about an older woman and a younger man.

Me: Yeah, and after they have sex, she kills herself. You think that will be good for your self-esteem?
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Hubby (to Big Kid): Maybe you're confused about her interest in you. Maybe she just wants someone to do yardwork.

Big Kid: I'm pretty sure that was a date.

Hubby: Are you positive she didn't ask you to trim her bushes?

Big Kid: No, she didn't.

Me: Well if she does, make sure she specifies what bushes she needs trimmed, ok?

Big Kid (not recognizing the whooshing sound over his head): What are you guys talking about?
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Big Kid: I'm feeling sad. She's been working all day and I haven't gotten a chance to talk to her.

Me: Call one of your grandmas. They'd be thrilled to hear from you and you never know---you might just get that same warm, fuzzy feeling.
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Big Kid (to me): I was thinking that maybe the two of you could be good buddies because you're close in age.

Me: My good buddies and I mainly talk about our children and sex. She'll probably want to hear about that poop chunk you left on the back of the toilet seat last week as much as I'll want to hear that you don't know where her clitoris is.
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Bah! Who's going to volunteer to shoot me? Just shoot me now!