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We talked some more, eventually stepping outside for a smoke. ”She did this little perky hop and leaned forward.“Yeah, I am, and I don’t date younger guys.”“Who said anything about dating?She was fit, and certainly well-groomed.“I know I’m hot. ”I told her how sexy she was and that I thought she was 28 at first glance.“Really? ”Her claws seemed to be slowly coming out, until I was hit with a dose of reality.“I just don’t understand it.” She frowned “I don’t understand why 40-year-old men don’t get on this.”I didn’t either. I got closer, but she backed off.“You’re sweet, but I really don’t do younger guys.” Then she turned with a smile and hailed a cab. Peddling away back out into noir of the concrete jungle, it seemed I’d finally gotten hunted…

You've heard of cougars—those empowered women with an appetite for younger men. He's that opportunistic twentysomething infiltrating the classy Back Bay bar, his sights set on a middle-aged conquest.Once that eye-obstacle was hurdled, I took a once-around, really scoping out the selection. But before I could finish, a looming shadow that stunk of sporty cologne approached me from behind.“Excuse me.Some were pressed against the bar, laughing, being leaned on by other men. ” I tried not to laugh.“Oh, you think I’m a cougar? This is my wife, man.”I retreated to the dance floor.I asked her if she believed in instant attraction, seemingly out of nowhere.Her eyes lit up for a moment when she put down her gin and appeared to be caught up in a minor trance.