More cougars on one beach than in all of the Rocky Mountains. Although I cannot answer the question that I had when I left for Delaware last week, I can say that the number of 30s+ women in pursuit of prey was staggering. The beach was expansive, the bars were explosive and my friend and I received a crash course in the nightstyle of Delaware shore.
It doesn’t stay out late. The bars close at 1. That is quite early for party life standards. But they make up for it by starting early. On Saturday, after a quick nap and a few pounded Aluminum lights, we trekked the two or so blocks to what we affectionately labeled Cork and Pork, referring to something of our intended outcome with some of the female clientele.
When we entered, it was apparent the party started a little earlier than our arrival. There were already more than a hundred people inside. And they were dancing…already. A live band had just finished and it couldn’t have been later than 7p. I still needed a few more aluminums and shooters to even consider getting myself getting into the thick of the melee.
Bachelorette parties began to stream in wearing the matching shirts, or the elaborately dressed bachelorette complete with embroidered sash or funny hat. Closing in on these groups, a new friend of mine made short work getting in with the bachelorette and from there, into the mix with the other girls. But the predominant theme, as I watched (and did my own testing of the tepid water) was that most were attached to significants. As we were part of our own party of bachelorites, it was fun to share in their fun, however, if the goal was to score, we were kicking with the left foot.
In all, there were many opportunities, but I was not accustomed to the older woman game, and I will admit I rescinded from any advances they made. One in particular after an invitation to dance was offered later that night, I did what I haven’t done in 13 years…I chickened out with a hot, older babe. What a fool! As punishment, I got my due spending the remainder of the evening conversing with an attractive girl who happened to also be a fundamentalist Christian, walking down the beach, being saved. Maybe as it turns out I really was saved in some respects…there is a reason they call them cougars.
It doesn’t stay out late. The bars close at 1. That is quite early for party life standards. But they make up for it by starting early. On Saturday, after a quick nap and a few pounded Aluminum lights, we trekked the two or so blocks to what we affectionately labeled Cork and Pork, referring to something of our intended outcome with some of the female clientele.
When we entered, it was apparent the party started a little earlier than our arrival. There were already more than a hundred people inside. And they were dancing…already. A live band had just finished and it couldn’t have been later than 7p. I still needed a few more aluminums and shooters to even consider getting myself getting into the thick of the melee.
Bachelorette parties began to stream in wearing the matching shirts, or the elaborately dressed bachelorette complete with embroidered sash or funny hat. Closing in on these groups, a new friend of mine made short work getting in with the bachelorette and from there, into the mix with the other girls. But the predominant theme, as I watched (and did my own testing of the tepid water) was that most were attached to significants. As we were part of our own party of bachelorites, it was fun to share in their fun, however, if the goal was to score, we were kicking with the left foot.
In all, there were many opportunities, but I was not accustomed to the older woman game, and I will admit I rescinded from any advances they made. One in particular after an invitation to dance was offered later that night, I did what I haven’t done in 13 years…I chickened out with a hot, older babe. What a fool! As punishment, I got my due spending the remainder of the evening conversing with an attractive girl who happened to also be a fundamentalist Christian, walking down the beach, being saved. Maybe as it turns out I really was saved in some respects…there is a reason they call them cougars.
