Glamour/Melanie Hamlett: Men My Age Wouldn’t Date Me, so I Became a ‘Cougar’

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Good Sex
Men My Age Wouldn’t Date Me, so I Became a ‘Cougar’

I resisted the label at first but then I found power in it. Honestly, my sex life has never been better.
By Melanie Hamlett
April 5, 2019

Woman in a silk robe.
Getty Images

When the 27-year-old French guy I recently matched with on Tinder says he wants to cook me dinner at his house for our first date, I’m not all that surprised. The French tend to be more romantic than Americans, even when it’s just about sex. But six hours before our date, he blows up my phone with food questions.

“You eat goat cheese, sweet Melanie?”

Yup!

How about salmon? Crepes for dessert? This or that for appetizers? What kind of wine?

“I’m sure I’ll love whatever you cook, don’t worry,” I say, partly touched, partly annoyed.
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“But it’s the first time I see you. I want everything to be perfect!” he texts back.

I’m sure it will be, I assure him. I’m a 41-year-old woman with the sex drive of a teenage boy and we’d already established that we’re both just looking for a “sex friend,” as they call it here in France. All this effort on his part is nice but totally unnecessary.

When I arrive at his place, damn does it smell amazing. The table is so heavy with platters it looks straight out of a medieval feast. And even more food is cooking in the oven! “I made this sauce just for you,” he says, holding up a platter of breads, spreads, and fancy French cheeses. This special sauce—which, he informs me, is called “Melanie’s Special Sauce”—makes my knees buckle.

Over appetizers, he waxes poetic about what a strong American woman I am—I climb mountains, travel the world alone, I’m fearless. He launches into a monologue about how impressed he is with all I’ve done with my life so far and how he hopes I’ll find him even half as interesting. “I’m just so happy you’re willing to date someone as young as me,” he adds.

Of course I am. Who else is there, anyway?
The Myth of Turning 40

I was so worried about turning 40, certain I’d suddenly become invisible to men—like Cinderella turning into a pumpkin in the middle of a party full of twenty-somethings. If my Tinder matches are any indication, that fear isn’t totally unfounded: Dudes my own age just aren’t interested anymore.

At first, I worried this meant I had in fact become an unfuckable dried-up old hag. Society has told women our entire lives that men won’t want us after 35. Hollywood casts age-inappropriate women for almost every leading man while at the same time casting women my age as the mothers of their peers. For women in America, turning 40 is a death of sorts. The loss of all our sexual capital. Nobody will want us or our bat wings. And bless your heart if you’re a woman in Los Angeles who refuses to get Botox and is edging toward 40.

I’ve come to realize, in my infinite old-woman wisdom, that this all bullshit. And if men in their forties no longer want to date me, well, that’s a good thing. Frustrated with my desolate Tinder inbox, I finally thought, Screw it, and set the age minimum on my dating app to 25. Whew, boy! Almost immediately my inbox caught on fire, filled with twenty- and thirty-something men just dying to take me on a date. Younger men not only want to date older women; they think we’re amazing.
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I didn’t set out to be a “cougar,” but it seems like Tinder is chock-full of lonely cubs. I have never had this much sex—let alone good sex—in my life. These younger guys are more progressive, have less emotional baggage, and love dating a confident woman who knows what she wants and tells them what to do. I’ve never felt so sexy and attractive.
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The surprising thing I’ve found is that these men nearly half my age usually treat me way better than men my own age ever have. I’ve come to realize that the younger dudes in my Rolodex tend to be more feminist and sex positive than the men of my generation. Through a lifetime of dating Gen X men, I thought I should be ashamed of being promiscuous and satisfied with sex that centered around male ejaculation. Obviously, not all men of my generation think this way, but certainly too many still do. It wasn’t until I started spending time with younger men that I realized just how deeply I’d been internalizing these messages.

Call me a cougar if you want, but I feel more like a queen.

Even if men my age actually wanted a woman whose ovaries are nearly dead, I’m not sure I would want them anyway. As an avid climber and solo traveler, I find I can run laps around men my age. Even men 10 years younger than me are too old sometimes. My last boyfriend, who was nine years my junior, couldn’t keep up with me. It actually became a running joke in our relationship that he was like a grandpa. At the same time, he’s the most mature man I’ve ever been with and taught me so much about healthy communication.

Dating him is what finally convinced me this cougar business is a load of crap. If men don’t have to worry about being slapped with a dumb label for dating intergenerationally, neither will I.

The whole idea of a “cougar”—and the grossly outdated stereotypes that surround it—isn’t just condescending to women; it’s insulting to men. Do we really think men are that shallow? That they aren’t attracted to women’s minds, souls, hearts, humor, and all the other qualities that make us beautiful?

I’ve decided to embrace being a cougar. It’s the best decision I’ve ever made and all it took was letting go of my own internalized misogyny. I highly recommend it. I can’t promise you some 27-year-old will name a sauce after you, but if you’re open to them and vet well, they may make you feel as desirable and impressive as you should for a fearless woman in her forties.

Melanie Hamlett is a comedian, writer, and storyteller from New York City who’s now living in Europe.
Topics
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