Doubling down at the Monterey Bay Cougar Mixer.

Last year we sent this tandem of writers to the Monterey Bay Singles Convention. One was committed to find love, the other the courage to engage in conversation. Ultimately both found a rich experience to share (www.montereycountyweekly.com/singles).

This time they were sent north – in terms of geography and seniority – for the Monterey Bay Cougar Mixer. Again they took different approaches: One couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into a seasoned piece of meat; the other admitted he went in slightly terrified. As before, both masked their identity as reporters. (Undercover lovers, if you will.)

– Mark C. Anderson

~ ~ ~

At this first-ever event, I imagined there would be a pack of fast and foxy older women hunting down a small contingent of inexperienced and awkward young men. I was scared.

The crowd inside Max’s Lounge, a sliver of a bar located within the Scott’s Valley Hilton Hotel, is not what I expected. Actually, it’s hard to spot that many older women in the group, which is composed mostly of young men and journalists covering the event. (Among others, the San Jose Mercury, the Santa Cruz Weekly and a small upstart zine sent reporters.)

Armed with a fake name – Sebastian Cobb – I slide through the crowd with the hope of learning more about this new species of older aggressive female.

The first woman I meet is a hippie-ish lady whose nametag says “Joyce.” “Have you ever been to one of these things before?” she asks.

I tell her that I’m here for a technology convention. “Is this where they have that Power Point seminar?” I ask.

“You might be in the wrong room,” she says.

Joyce laughs at my apparent mistake. Then, she tells me that it’s all right, and I should stay at the party. Her nurturing nature quickly puts me at ease.

After saying goodbye to Joyce, I walk past a table where a lady sips a piña colada. She looks at my nametag and announces that she had a fish named Sebastian.

Cyndy tells me she works at UCSC, a potentially fertile plot for a cougar. “What do you do?” she asks.

“I’m a digital box converter technician,” I say. “I install digital converter boxes on TVs.”

“So, you’re a tech guy,” she asks.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I always thought it would be great if someone had the job of putting CDs on people’s iPods,” she says.

While we talk, I watch as packs of young men crowd around a single cougar. I turn back to Cyndy, who says she is enjoying talking with me. Seems cougars aren’t that scary after all. [ST]

~ ~ ~

I’ve had a Mrs. Robinson itch since I was a teenager, and the accompanying dreams of a sultry, seductive, self-assured middle-aged beauty who seeks younger male companionship.

The prospect of hooking up with one of these experienced vixens – preferably one resembling Anne Bancroft in The Graduate – at the Single Cougars Mixer had me running for a cold shower.

Even the Hilton, the event venue, seemed to be hip to the scene, offering pay-per-view titles like Seduced by a Cougar and Cougar Pleasures.

I was eager to delve into a sea of Kim Cattralls and Diane Lanes in the cubby-sized Max’s Lounge to find my own cougar pleasure. After paying the $10 admission fee to Rich Gosse, the self-proclaimed romance expert, I was given half of a nine of spades playing card and a nametag. For anonymity purposes I used the pseudonym: “Ari.” Gosse instructed me to find the woman with the other half of my card.

The lounge was as stuffed as a pregnant opossum and it was obvious that the cougar-to-cub ratio was not in our favor. Every woman was surrounded by herds of men.

It wasn’t long before I found the other half of my nine of spades: Carole, a pleasant woman, probably in her ’60s, who looked more like Anne Rice than Anne Bancroft.

“I want to meet someone that likes to have fun, has good energy and no baggage,” Carole explained as she gulped down her martini.

The night pressed on, the drinks flowed generously and the number of men grew exponentially. By 8pm, most had given up on scoring a cougar and congregated in the parking lot to exchange stories.

“I had three older women at one time,” bragged James from Brookdale. “And two of them were cousins.”

“Woman over 40 know what they’re doing,” added Tyler, a UCSC student.

I forced my way back into the still-packed lounge where I encountered Jason and Darren from Cork, Ireland. They were Abercrombie & Fitch models attending UCSC on rugby scholarships. The cougars were definitely smitten with these Irish charmers. But it was the perfect way to end the evening: watching a drunken cougar on her knees, rubbing her head against a young Irishman’s crotch. Here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson. [AJ]