Dear readers,
In exchange for a new, juicy, barely legal sex and dating advice and (mis)adventure column, we at the Cougar are asking for your suggestions on a new name for what was once Cougar Sutra.
Please tweet us at @TheDailyCougar, message us on Facebook or send an e-mail to [email protected] with your suggestions. Top picks will be posted in a poll at thedailycougar.com next week for the final vote.
The reader whose suggestion is chosen will get special mention and first shot at asking yours truly for advice on sex, dating and everything in between.
A trusted advisor recommended that I write the first column with a hard hit on the truths about what goes on between the sheets, but this is our first meeting, dear virgin reader, and I don’t think we’re on that level yet.
Instead, I’ve chosen a select few first-date bloopers to warn you against the next time you find yourself on first base with a potential special someone.
First of all, I don’t get bloody noses, ever.
I’ve got this schnozzle, and while I’ve seriously bruised the exterior of my snout, I’ve never gotten a bloody nose.
However, one admirer of this as-of-yet-unnamed-column was kissing on some handsome sweetie when she tasted that all-too-familiar iron flavor. Indeed, when they broke their sweet embrace, she had blood all over her face, and he was mortified at the treacherous blood vessels in his sensitive nostrils.
As the semester begins, a word to the wise: Do not, under any circumstances, reveal that you’ve stalked your date before going out.
One confidant shared a creeper story where she went out to dinner with a supposed gentleman who had researched her social networks so thoroughly that he knew her birthday, place of birth, previous university and where she spent her last bikini-clad vacation.
If you’re on a first date with a really nice guy, and he manages to bust himself in the face with his car door so badly that he ends up in the emergency room, I recommend that you give him a second chance another day.
However, in the case of one first-date story submission, the gent in question had the gumption to return after his run to the hospital to try to “seal the deal,” with white bandages holding his poor nose together.
Keep this one in mind as the coming weeks lead into the pink-and-red-and-white Valentine’s Day mania. One young man, unnamed and remembered forever in antiquity with a wistful smile, asked if I would have him as my valentine.
In a previous conversation, I had discovered that we have an ancestor in common, and we are therefore cousins 18-times removed.
Instead of being honest about how this freaked me out, I let him bring me a valentine consisting of a formerly white teddy bear of dubious origin, and a heart-shaped box of out-of-date Ferrero Rocher.
He romantically explained that they were the most expensive items at the dollar store.
