When I was a young, strapping, college-going lad, a wise fellow took meÂ under his wing.Â He taught me how to dress, how to dance, and how to pick up chicks.
I remember one night at a club, whenÂ a limousine pulled up in front.Â My mentor grabbed me by the arm, and took me aside.Â I excused myself from theÂ honey whoseÂ firstÂ four phone number digitsÂ I had just procured. He took me to the window and pointed to the car.Â A door opened, and about nine middle aged women, wearing clothes that their bodies could not cash, came flying out in a drunken hysteria, and piled into the club.
“Those, my friend, are what we call, cougars.” he said to me.
I was astonished.Â I had never witnessed something that looked so wrong.Â
“Watch out for them, man.Â They’re nothing but trouble.”
I always remembered that advice.Â I avoided their predatory stares like the plague.Â You see, I give to the needy, not the greedy.
Later that night, my wise old friend gave me a more formal rundown on how to avoid these beasts:
- Do not run.
- Do not crouch or bend down. Cougars generally prey on four-legged animals. If a person stands, they will pose an unusual shape and the animal will often leave.
- Fight back if attacked.
But, it’s not just young men they’re after, so my teacher said.Â If desperate or drunk enough, these cougs of the night will go after anything:
- Adults should keep children nearby.
- Pick up and hold your child to prevent them from running away.
- Keep pets inside.
That night at the club was the last night I ever saw him.Â Sometimes I wonder, if my escape that night was because of him.Â Was it an epic sacrifice a la Obi Wan’s to Darth Vader, that allowed me to escape?Â I’ll never know.Â But I’ll always be thankful for his advice.Â