VidSF‘s Beth Hondl and I shot a full hour of tape. But you people have the attention span of a toddler. I blame MTV. As a result, our 3 and a half minute video report of Saturday night’s Cougar Convention leaves a lot out. There are some basic facts and events you need to know, if for no other reason than we refuse to suffer this knowledge alone.

1. The Chronicle has a fabulous photo shoot of the attendees, and really did a great job catpuring the vibe considering they seemingly unwittingly including a photo of “Stanford student… Mike Hunt.” Ah yes. The old Mike Hunt joke. I’m surprised Mike Hunt made it into Stanford considering his cousin, Oliver Clozehoff is still struggling through San Mateo Community College.

2. The event was sold out. Cougars, cubs and those that wishes to amuse themselves by attending had all purchased $15 tickets online. Your ticket got you a name tag with your name hand-written on it. That was it. You could come and go, so long as you had this precious name tag anyone could get down the block at RiteAid.

3. The event was organized by singles activist and former Gubenatorial candidate, Rich Gosse. Rich didn’t seem to give a shit that our names weren’t on the list, even though he had spoken with our producer mere days before. Rich just handed us some name tags and slurred, “Thanks for comin’.” Rich can best be described as Ron Burgundy.

4. Each cub (that’s what we’re begrudgingly calling the 20-something male that desires the touch of an older woman) was given a gold coin. These coins weren’t actually gold, as some of the slower cubs broke their coins by playing with them too much. The cub was supposed to give his coin to his favorite cougar. Towards the end of the night, the cougar with the most coins won a cruise. She was also crowned Miss Cougar USA, with runners up, a tiara and the whole nine yards. We missed this. I imagine just about everyone missed it. The night was unbearably hot and everyone stood outside, finding the dancefloor and stage far too humid. There were rumbling, “Did someone win?” “Who won?” “Was is Bea?”

Her name was literally “Bea” as in “Arthur” and she came all the way from London just for the Convention. She’s the cougar in the appallingly low cut purple number.

5. Not everyone was a cougar or a cub.There was certainly some press (I chatted with the guy from Details Magazine!) and a good amount of shitty young people there to get drunk and laugh. Then there were the old men, wandering around, being lecherous and confusing everyone. Most of the cougars were sincere, if not sad, in their proclaimed cougardom. The cubs thought this was all kinda funny and really wanted to get laid. They were all hoping for a one night stand with Stiffler’s Mom and instead found the chick who kept talking about racquet ball.

6. The mood turned around midnight. The cubs were getting desperate and there simply weren’t enough willing cougars. They were drunk and sweaty, getting more obnoxious by the minute. Beer bottles were smashed in the parking lot, I believe there was a shoving match over a taxi…it was like the end of a really crappy prom. They were certainly yelling things at the camera. One guy, Scott had repeatedly asked me to dance. I had repeatedly declined. Scott took to coming around and calling me a bitch. You can actually see him on film, whisper some shit in my ear while I’m interviewing someone and then running away. I just wanted to climb onstage and scream into a microphone, “Why are you all being such assholes?!?!?”

7. I don’t care what anyone says. A cougar is 40 and older. It’s apparently “more of an attitude than an age” anyway. One young man pointed out that I was definitely a cougar because I’d dated younger men. That, he argued, was why we should go back to my hotel room and “get to know each other.” His hand was on my back, his suit coat was tied around his waist. We never got to know each other. I triple locked the door once I got to my room, emotionally exhausted and committed to never having a conversation with anyone born after 1982 again.

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