This is the continue story of Cougar in the Hunt Story Part 4 Here’s To You Mrs. Robinson
Cougar in the Hunt: Cruel Light of Day
For many reasons, there are numerous residents who are desperate to leave the desert. Up here, many consider a move down the hill to be a long-term goal, a step up, and an aspiration. If all else fails, these desert residents will descend into madness and are forced to disappear. Those who fall into the category of leaving by means of insanity, often have a bungee around one leg so they can recoil back in case the madness subsides.
The high-desert landscape makes it difficult to maintain a sense of boundaries because there are no lines of demarcation. The land, stretches out further than the eye can see to meet the infinite by day and by night. The power of the sky takes on many lives, often in the course of only one day. There is no beginning and no end, no boundaries, no outlines, nothing to define what is so infinite. This impresses and delights visitors; if you don’t live here, the lack of focal points and contour lines is infinite freedom. Cacti notwithstanding, it is possible to run for miles without stopping. For folks who live here, this feels wonderful until the wonder is out of reach, and in the desert that reach can go anywhere or nowhere.
I met Mr. Man on Valentine’s Day, while in January I was descending into madness desperate for an anchor. By February I was recovering from the crisis, making every effort to create imaginary lines of demarcation. The anchor that helps me to stand on such shaky ground is my friendship. Since these same friends may go mad at any time, my constant and only focal point is caring for my bunny and allowing his beauty and splendor to wash over my broken heart.
It is this very spell of the desert and the vast expanse of land and the infinite sky that spills from the natural world into our daily lives. and daily lives. A 21-year-old giving me this kind of attention would never live and thrive, outside the desert, through an entire evening then into the morning and through the next day. Anywhere else in the world, a 21-year-old amputee would not just appear out of nowhere, as my friend’s suitor’s friend. Every twist and turn of events would have dead ended had the evening taken place elsewhere.
Once the dust settled from the drama of Fineness running away for a day, I fully let the cruel light of day fill my home and my person. I had to get these lust filled sensations out of my mind and body. There was no way this would happen. As tempting as it was to be worshiped so poignantly, I had to be responsible and make sure that my secret desires did not prey upon this vulnerable delicate young heart. I had to stand firm in my principles of ensuring that my actions don’t cause harm to others. Even if he was of consenting age I still needed to be responsible, I told myself whenever the temptations crept into my body.
was not tempted by validation, since I know that my looks are not lost as I age. Despite frequent subtle reminders that I am no longer 20, I never pretend I am still 20. When I look through photos of myself in my early 20s all I see is clueless abandon, whereas the vision I now see in the mirror is the same beauty but with conviction, certainly, and experience. The image of the present has far more appeal.
Despite my convictions, the passion in his pursuit was seared in my mind and transforming into fantasies that in the cruel light of day were easy to dodge. Escape was not so easy at night, when the world goes quiet, as outer forces take over and erotically dance in my head, like artistic avant guard porn. Curiosity was doing its part and drawing in my sense of adventure and desire to try something new.
At the same time, I had to be strong and able to dissuade him since not only was I decades older, the gap between the stage of life at 21 and at 48 is too wide. There is nothing similar about these life stages. Had he been 31 and I 58, I wouldn’t have jumped into intimacy immediately as he wanted, though I would not have dismissed the idea. Even though he was not real sophisticated or educated, he had quickness that compelled me. I imagined his negotiating my explanations for rejecting him, which had the potential to wear me down to submission.
I sent him a text message that read something like “…I apologize for being caught off guard the other night; I need to let you know that there is no way you and I are going to become involved and I was back into a corner with your presumption of physical intimacy.” It was harsh, which as it turns out, did not work in my favor. After I sent it, I worried that I may have been too harsh.
He responded minutes later with something like “…I really do appreciate your honesty” Mmmm, I didn’t expect a mature response. I sent a text message back with a reference to seeing clearly in “the cruel light of day.” and he answered back with a yes Ma’am.
While I reinvented the Dear john letter in a text, I was not able to make this strange attraction go away as I had expected. After rejecting him with brutal poignant honesty, he was still on my mind. Fantasies about the potential adventure of his unusual anatomy would be creeping into my thoughts. It didn’t seem like he was looking for a surrogate mother since he talked about her in a way that indicated a positive relationship. It was clear that the two of us had nothing in common, yet the differences were interesting to me. I knew better than to look to him for any kind of serious long-term, but the idea of a short-lived fling invaded my reasoning. The idea of a whole new anatomical sex experience was an overwhelming temptation fueled by my sense of adventure and lack of inhibitions.
I was sure I had been too harsh and reasoned that I didn’t need to cast him out entirely and why not keep the lines of communication open? So I reached out and extended an open-ended invitation for coffee at my place for which he said he would contact me if he was in my area. He responded by saying that if he was in my part of town he would let me know.
A few days later, I found myself in dialogue with him via text message. I exchanged texts with him while working, on and off for an entire day. I asked myself why I was doing this and did not have an answer to give myself. I was still on the edge of the cliff and the ground was still crumbling.
During our text dialogue, there was no attempt on his part at flirtation, suggestion, or trying to negotiate the boundary I put in place. I wondered if I was giving him mixed messages, since my communication was inconsistent and my ambivalence was touching every part of me.
After several hours of this back and forth typing, he put a toe in the water to engage me in flirtation, though it was after I accidentally gave him an opening. I referred to myself as a blunt, straightforward vixen, not afraid to speak her mind, for which he responded
“WOW, we are going to get along REALLY well” The hopeful beta test quality of this message touched me, even if it was a bit presumptuous.
“I am starting to be open to this possibility” He must have seen this as a neon green light indicator that convinced him that he would get his way. It is amazing what one believes when they really want something, as I thought I was being vague.
“Why the change of heart?” I wasn’t aware that I had changed my heart, but I didn’t discourage his assumption or hope. I was honestly tired of fighting him and what my body wanted.
“Well, I needed a chance to think it over, as I explained I strive not to be impetuous.” I listed a few reasons, one text for each including “Heart being the operative word, my heart is very broken” He responded with his version of wisdom, but in doing so he simply showed his age and lack of experience. My last reason was “The cardinal rule of my spirituality is not to harm anyone.” This turned into a discussion about pagan philosophy, or more accurately described, my explaining witchcraft, debunking all of his prior misconceptions. His willingness to learn from me was endearing.
The subtle bit of hope I gave him, set him on a fast paced high-speed chase for me all via text messages. Everything we texted about came back to overt flirtation from him or an opportunity gush about how incredibly beautiful I am. He was faster than a juvenile jack rabbit and as such he outran any discretion I may have had left somewhere in my mind, where I was still engaged in a faint dialogue.
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