B: Hey, hi. Thanks for responding to my question! And for wanting to send me money. I was actually talking about two DIFFERENT guys, a super-young brainy one and a slightly older (than him) stoner guy, with whom I had that fun evening.

While I’m still here in this cow town, though, the last thing I want to do is find Mr. Right. I was just open to enjoying Mr. Right Now. (Unless of course the former wanted to follow me all over creation. Actually, “Stoner Rick” does want to travel overseas, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to take off together.)

All: I suppose part of me is relieved not to have to go through the whole buzzkiller business of explaining my physiology to some casual guy and what I have to do first and what he had better not do. Sometimes that’s enough to send guys away…a sleeve at least is uncomplicated.

There’s no reason to feel bad. You may feel taken down a notch or what, but really this is OK. I haven’t heard the term “cougar”, so I don’t take the reference, though I’ll infer from context that it denotes an older woman looking for younger men. I wasn’t there, so what can I say? Well, since I’m not stopping myself….

If he said that, it’s a totally uncool thing to say, so fuck him (and you know the way I mean). What, suddenly he’s Mr In-Demand? Fine, then. Odds are, though, he’s going home to his penis sleeve and a bottle of baby oil–and why should that be otherwise, if that’s the way he’s going to behave? Go ahead, wish that upon him, if it makes you feel better. I’d say it’s appropriate. given the circumstances. Like I say, you aren’t too old to take an interest in him, there’s nothing to be guilty about here.

If he didn’t say that, and was just indulging a customer who may have spoken against you? Well, that would explain why he insisted on saying something nice to you before you left. He may have realized he was being insensitive, tried to over-compensate. I don’t know, but I could see it.

You don’t have to let him off the hook, though. If the whole experience left you feeling cold, then that’s totally valid. Maybe he picks up on that, maybe he won’t–but you don’t have to let that dictate your reaction. Your emotional reaction is very real.

Glad to hear that you’re taking it in stride, though. Rejection, on whatever scale, is always hard to take. Comes with the territory, of being out there and playing.

[OK, *one* more Red Hook....]

One last thing I want to mention: just because you had a bad time of it this time around, doesn’t necessarily mean that you misinterpreted what went on before. I’ll point to this last night out that you had: sometimes what happens in the moment is all-defining. Well, I say it’s *always* all-defining, we just normally don’t think of it that way. But your initial encounter with Dex and him telling you that chicks don’t go for philosophy majors life himself…that’s comparable to the experience you had with Stoner Rick at the pool table. That interaction was what it was, and the moment for that won’t necessarily repeat. You shouldn’t assume that any given encounter will define everything that is to come. Life, and other people, usually aren’t that simple.

In retrospect “cougar” doesn’t seem like a word D would even use…I think it was the sarcastic regular who said it (who is himself older). It might even have been in reference to the high-heeled Cher-like woman who had just been at the counter. I thought she looked hot. I didn’t know why the number 41 would be coming up, though, so my ears pricked up and I started thinking that at least part of it was about me.

But I don’t understand why D wouldn’t let me then just sneak out (after I wrote the above) and instead called out to me and followed me to the end of the counter with some parting niceties as I tried to leave.

Well, like I said, there you have it, more wasted energy.

I also find myself irritated when people use the expression “cougars.” Although that may be simply because I really enjoy older women. But I digress.

Just feel a bit stupid for misreading things so utterly and talking a big talk about them here.

But I fear I’m wasting far too much energy on this boy stuff and losing momentum…didn’t I say I get derailed easily? What was that business about going to Europe again?

I bet if you really wanted to find a playmate (OOMO aside) you could post an NSA ad on Craigslist or the Stranger and draw in some freaky pagan gal. The ones I’ve known are open to all kinds of men/women and absolute libertines. Write something funny and disarming like “6 foot 200-lb mildly autistic Indian who scares small children seeking hedonistic geek girl who loves to receive.”

I’ve been saying for years that sex is an adult form of play. Think about it: there’s toys, role playing, costumes and dress-up, plenty of fantasy. And a lot of laughing joyously, if done properly. I think it satisfies whatever childlike need we have. “Go outside and play”–when did that become old hat? I certainly lament that no one will play with me, even for an afternoon.

I remember something in PLAYBOY a few years ago that I really liked. Reader submissions to complete the thought, “Sex is…” Two of them have really stayed with me. One was, “Sex is comparing notes.” That’s charming (armchair academic that I am). The other was “Sex is power…made playful.” I love that one even more. (I’d better, since the Object Of My Obsessions works as a dominatrix, among other things. No, not my kick, for the record, but you’re damn right I’m going to establish a safe word.)

So play with your power. Never forget, you have something he wants. And he has something that you want. The intersection of those two desires is….