Welcome to Cougartown

I'm on my way to Cougartown. (But I think we all knew this already.)

I just spent the day at an acting workshop getting blatantly hit on by a smokin'-hot, 22-year-old actor. Now, I need a 22-year-old actor like I need a hole in my head. But damn, this boy is fine. He is Hollywood Hot. Beautiful face, crazy muscular body, very charming. (Seeing as my therapist has suggested that I start looking for serious guys ready for a serious relationship...this seems like a pretty ironic development.)

Shockingly, I had a terrible time accepting his overtures...perhaps because I was disconcerted by the beauty before me (it was blinding) or perhaps because I felt like middle-aged Blanche DuBois kissing the paperboy. Regardless, when he told me he is a great cook and asked to cook dinner together, I scuttled away like a spooked hermit crab. (To be fair, I think I may have said something flip first and then scuttled, but I don't quite remember. Arrgh.)

Now, if he actually calls me, I'll get it together and have a date with him...but for the time being I am going to let this whole thing become a pleasant memory. I mean, I'm a 32-year-old woman looking to settle down. I don't need a 22-year-old Adonis to get me off track by getting me off. (Har, har.) Or at least that's where I stand today. I'll probably change my mind...but first I gotta get used to the idea of waking up with someone prettier than I am.

It was bound to happen eventually. This is LA, after all.