When I opened the bar door, I was immediately struck by the overpowering scent of cigarette smoke, hair bleach and Neutrogena Skin Anti-Wrinkle cream.
Oh yeah.
It was Ohio University’s Moms Weekend, all right.
Fortunately, I had come prepared. As soon as I heard about these so-called “moms” and their so-called “weekend”, I Netflix’d the first season of ABC’s Cougar Town for research. Once again, Courtney Cox proved to be the answer to all of my life’s problems (Even if some professors won’t accept that during a math exam, apparently).
I had come to the bar armed with premium cougar bait: a cooler full of Weight Watchers protein shakes, a few copies of People magazine and a photo album consisting entirely of pictures of me as a baby wearing funny animal costumes.
No mom would be able to resist.
After reading up on cougar hunting, I’d also purchased a tranquilizer gun and a bowie knife for skinning the pelt. Somehow I got the feeling I may have mixed up my cougars, but I wasn’t about to take any chances.
Besides, some of those moms can be downright ferocious when it comes to talking about soap operas.
I zeroed in on my target in seconds and struck what I hoped was a cool, suave pose.
“Hey, sexy. How would you like to claim another dependent on your next tax return?”
“Are you having a muscle spasm or something?” the woman asked.
She was blonde, pretty and looking at me like I might be an escaped mental patient. In other words: just my type.
After she helped me dislodge my elbow from behind my head, I bought her a drink and prepared to bust out my arsenal of carefully crafted pickup lines, each one custom-tailored to appeal to the older lady.
“Is your last name Homer?” I asked, “Because you’re giving me one hell of an Oedipal complex.”
I could tell by the way she was pointing and laughing at me that the line was working. No woman can help getting turned on by Greek mythology references, I thought, and congratulated myself on my awesome game.
One thing I’d learned from Cougar Town was that it wasn’t enough to be young to attract a cougar; you had to be a young man.
Just because a cougar is older than you, doesn’t mean she doesn’t expect you to provide for her.
“Did I mention I’m a doctor?” I asked, and pushed my business card toward her.
“I don’t think ‘Sexologist’ is a real occupation,” she said flatly. “Also, this isn’t a business card, it’s a napkin you doodled breasts on.”
“Well, how would you know?” I asked defensively. I had worked really hard on that napkin! “I think we can all agree that nobody knows what these so-called ‘doctors’ actually do, so it might as well be.”
“I would know,” she interrupted, “because I’m married to one. My husband is a doctor, moron.”
“Husband?” I echoed. Too late, I noticed the ring on her finger, and even more too late, the extremely large man sitting next to her. “Wait, I can explain.”
Well, the good news is that I got away without a beating; the bad news is that I used my only tranquilizer dart. At any rate, I trust you’ll all have a happy and safe Moms Weekend!
Also, if a very muscular doctor happens to ask you where I am, I packed up and moved to Mexico. Mexico, you understand? Estoy viviendo en México.
Ryan McAndrews is a junior studying journalism and a columnist for The Post. Did Ryan’s tactics work for you? Let him know at rm287608@ohiou.edu.
