Let the swiping begin

So...I download the Tinder app while getting the low down from my 25 year old coworker. What in the pluperfect hell? Swipe right if you like the way a person looks (no real personal details to speak of), swipe left if you don't like them (i.e. ugly). Sounds like a game, right? Or Hot or Not? Remember that one, old folks? She helped me pick photos, explaining they should be recent and varied. A selfie, a couple from "travels", full body pic so they can see you're hot, and maybe one with a girlfriend (to show that I actually have friends and not a crazy cat lady). I think back then Tinder still linked to Facebook so my age automatically propagated. She said "you should change that." Why, I asked. "Well you don't look over 40 and that could be someone's cut off age..." Gee, I suppose I would fudge it a bit. I put myself safely under 40. A few years younger wouldn't hurt.

I was set to start swiping. She explained my settings. Pick a distance, sex preference, and...an age range. An age range....? Well, I asked, what should I choose??? "You", she said with complete certainty, "are a cougar!" What the fuck? A cougar. What does that even mean? I don't want to start dating guys would could be my kids! Heavens no. I can't do that. No way.
I gave it some thought but decided my cougaring wouldn't go below 30. No way any younger than that. Never.

That night after work, I sat up at home swiping like a fiend. Racking up countless "matches". I was giddy with excitement. Most of them younger, of course. It would seem guys my age on Tinder weren't interested in Tindering a woman their either. Well, screw them. I had amassed some decent matches and it was time to get the ball rolling. I started conversations with a simple "Hi". Just putting the line out there, not committing too much. This was just fun, right? Nothing was going to become of it. Most of those 30 something conversations weren't bad but they didn't seem all that interested. And frankly, Tindering and chatting wasn't easy. If you weren't responding in a timely manner, they would drop you. Just like that. As if they knew you were managing too many irons in your fire.

Soon I became bored with what I was seeing. Thirty something (and older) guys with beards, goatees, and other various styles of facial hair. Some balding, some obviously hiding a beer gut. No real simulating conversations. Then perhaps the wine took over and BAM! my age range opened up. Fuck it, let's see what these 20 something guys are like and, more importantly, if they are going to swipe right on me. And did they! It was seemingly a match free for all. Twenty five seemed to be a sweet spot. Not only were these guys hot as hell but they wanted to chat me up. Some didn't want to chat at all. I would have to say half of them went straight for the dick pic to impress. In a matter of weeks I had a dick pic collection that could rival a porn start up website, conversations meant for the likes of Dear Penthouse, and too many phone numbers to count. I was the entertainment at my work. Our "water cooler" discussions were completely centered around my interactions with these boys. If I had a day or two off I was expected to come to work with a few juicy stories.

But I hadn't been able to pull the trigger on meeting anyone yet. I didn't want to meet one of the kids out in public and, frankly, still felt a bit sleazy about inviting them to my place. I don't remember what the tipping point was but eventually I got there and just said fuck it. Pretty soon I was inviting guys over on the regular.

Sadly, I have forgotten most of those early one night stands, although a couple were pretty memorable. One, for instance, told me to undress, put on a blindfold, lay in bed and wait. He would be coming over to find me laying in bed blindfolded or he would leave. Interesting. Okay, why not (this wasn't the first time with this particular guy). So I did it, waited what was probably around 45 minutes, the time it basically took him to get to my place. That was pretty hot. Perhaps writing about this now will jog my memory and I will share more.

The very interesting part of all this wasn't the great sex and hot guys. It was the mystifying occurrence of flaccidity with these young guys. 25 year old guys who couldn't stay hard...this actually happened several times...with several of these young guys. I, of course, tried to figure out why this was, polling my coworkers and girlfriends. Was I doing something wrong? Not sexy enough? Can't be because it typically wasn't just the one time with the same guy. Do young guys really have this problem? I don't recall this from MY 20s. We were stumped. The only real explanation we could come up with was the intimidation factor. Men and women have always told me I could be intimidating, too dominating, so I figured I was being too aggressive. I began trying to tone it down. It worked at times but I still encountered the issue. I was always kind about it, or at least as kind and gentle as one could be, but it did become frustrating. But...I pressed on, going through countless man-children, each one more beautiful than the next.

Of course my friends thoroughly enjoyed my stories and sexploits, as did I. There is something cathartic in feeding your ego through the desire of young, hot guys. Well played middle aged men. I totally understand now. I was "that" woman who lavished herself with the company of younger men...and fucking LOVED it.