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She can’t pull it off at her age.” He sighs the sigh of the battle-weary. The Four Seasons bar has all the women Café Milano didn’t, but no men. Is this a case of buyers and sellers not knowing where to find each other? “No woman in DC’s going to fool around with a younger man because they don’t have enough to say. We will then clear out so the real cougars can make their approach while we observe. My 30-year old friend, allegedly experienced in the ways of cougars, sees his higher calling and becomes our Cougar Coach. I realize they are waiting for a guide, and that my friend and I must play the cougars, showing them how it’s done. He’s 31 and tells me he’s known his share of older women. I catch his eye as the 31-year-old poses this question.
I considered the bar a place where older men hit on younger women. She’s lived here several years, still speaks with a heavy British accent and says she’s met a few younger men at Milano. If you do, you’ve tipped your hand and lost the chance. “It won’t matter.” He fixes me with a steely gaze he’s learned from government jobs he can’t discuss unless he kills you, and tells me to strap on the big girl pants and make the approach. “It’s an experiment.” “I don’t like being a cougar,” my friend says. I’m going home.” “You’ve got to head to Adams-Morgan,” the man beside me says. ” A man whose few remaining hairs are a streaky mix of gray and white is standing nearby. He’s holding court in Russia House and dispensing wisdom while my Cougar Coach hits on two women who likely got in with fake IDs. “But you’ve got to go where the beer’s cheap and the night’s almost over.” -like scene. It’s as if he’s caught me at the Krispy Kreme with a dozen doughnuts. “If you want to pose as a cougar, paint your nails. To be the cougar who seeks out her cub for a night or a weekend, you can’t care too much about what people think. Beer costs less than five dollars a bottle and no cover is charged. My fellow cougar-poser is inching toward the stairs. “Ask if the fire’s wood-burning or gas.” “That’s stupid,” I tell him. Within five minutes, we return to our Cougar Coach. “We didn’t want anything more to happen,” I remind him. I mean, let’s face it: who wouldn’t rather be with someone closer to their own age if they can before last call? It’s filled with bars no one over the age of 24 wants to enter, very cheap beer, even cheaper pizza by the slice just outside. “The cougar relationship is a beautiful thing,” the young guy next says. No one’s feelings are hurt.” The men around us nod. More than money or looks, information—about politics, refugees in war-torn countries and even the sex lives of others—is our currency. It’s still raining and the roof’s leaking so the bartender wears a rain slicker. “Do you get a lot of older women and younger men meeting here? “I’m working on a dispatch about whether or not we’ve got a cougar scene in DC.” “Sometimes, sure.” But I look around and realize that, for all the young men and women, we’re the oldest women in the bar. Maybe they’re in Dewey, waiting out the rain with an off-duty lifeguard. “Not much conversation needed.” “Yes, but people in DC are dorks. “But, the women I know who do play the cougars and sleep with younger guys go to Dewey Beach.” Again with Dewey Beach. “So, you’re wondering if there are cougars getting laid by younger men and, if so, where they meet? But I decide to try a cheaper bar, where the ladies can feel they’re not in a frat boy bar, while former frat boys can afford to drink on a budget. Russia House is dark, more lounge than bar or club, and filled with singles of all ages. with cougars for sure,” a 31-year-old male friend has told me. These very well-dressed, fit women likely see their dermatologists more often than their relatives, so they’ll look thirty-five for another decade. They’re boring.” “We’re talking about casual situations,” I remind her. “Let’s back up a second and ask the bigger question: is anyone in DC getting laid? I refuse to answer his bigger question or go to Dewey Beach in pursuit of cougars. Martinis in hand, we target three men, none older than 25, standing by a fireplace.