from
https://www.huffpost.com/entry/husband-left-divorce-girls-trip-cougar-club-finding-yourself_n_679fee33e4b0ac97b69ec8a0

After My Marriage Blew Up, My Friend Convinced Me To Go To A Cougar
Club. It Changed My Life.
"Had I been discarded? Yes. Was I finished? Far from it."
Julie Gaeta
By
Julie Gaeta
Feb 14, 2025, 08:23 AM EST

55 COMMENTS
After 22 years and parenting nine children with me, my husband declared,
“I don’t love you anymore, and to be honest, I probably never did.”

For the next year, I clung to the belief that I could hold our marriage
together, convinced this was a midlife detour — an awful phase that
would eventually end. It felt like one of those sad stories you read
about but never expect to happen to you.

But when his betrayals surfaced, I realized not everything can be saved.
The life I’d so carefully built was unraveling and slipping from my
grasp. Who was I, if not his fiercely loyal wife?

I was still a mom, of course, but beyond that? I didn’t know — and it
terrified me.

When my friend Gina invited me to Atlanta for a girls trip that included
a night out dancing, I was torn. It felt like a gift I didn’t deserve, a
break I’d long forgotten how to ask for.

I questioned if stepping away — even for just a few days — was the right
choice. I knew my kids needed me to fill the void left by the changes in
our family, but deep down, I yearned for something just for myself, even
if just for the weekend.

Still, every time I got close to booking the flight, I pulled back.

“You’ll feel better,” Gina promised, refusing to let me off the hook.

Finally, I said, “Maybe, but I might skip the club. I don’t think I can
handle any more rejection.”

I laughed it off, pretending it didn’t matter, but it did.

Somewhere along the way I’d begun to believe that I wasn’t desirable or
worth anyone’s effort. Those lies had solidified into my truths.

What if Gina was right, though? I wondered. What if I could feel what it
was like to be seen again — not as a mother or wife, but just as me?

I didn’t even think the little black dress would fit. I pulled it off
the hanger more out of curiosity than anything else. But as I slipped it
over my shoulders, the fabric hugged my waist perfectly, and I froze.
Soft yet form-fitting, it felt both familiar and alien at the same time.

I couldn’t stop looking in the mirror.

I’d tucked my body away for so long, conforming to my husband’s
expectations — anything to maintain the peace. But now, standing in
three-inch heels with the dress draped on my curves, I saw a version of
myself I’d forgotten.

It was intimidating, thrilling, and bittersweet all at once. I felt like
I was defying the unspoken rules of a life I was no longer living. My
heart raced like I was careening 30 miles over the speed limit, daring
myself to be desirable again.

The moment I zipped up the dress, I knew I’d stepped over an invisible line.

When Gina mentioned a cougar club she’d found online, I couldn’t help
but laugh. A cougar club? Seriously? I’d heard the term used to describe
an older woman who pursues much younger men, but an entire club
dedicated to them? It was so far from my usual scene, but maybe a little
adventure was exactly what I needed.

The club had a moody vintage feel. The lights were dimmed to a sultry,
after-hours glow, and the DJ spun old-school ’80s jams. Overhead, a big
silver disco ball threw flashes of light across the room. I spotted a
sign that read, “Got Cougars?” Apparently, we were in the right place.

There were men everywhere — a smorgasbord of options scattered across
the room, each just waiting for a cue — and a potent mix of cologne,
perfume and leather hung in the air.

I swallowed hard, leaned in closer to Gina, and asked, “Why is everyone
staring?” She laughed, flashing a knowing grin. “Come on, let’s grab a
table.”

My heart thudded. I wanted to run, hide, disappear. Instead, I focused
on not wobbling in my heels.

My ex-husband had never liked when I wore heels. He claimed they drew
too much attention. I tried to ignore the voice in my head whispering
what I knew he’d say about me being here, dressed like this. But
blocking his judgments felt like a tennis match, with each thought
rebounding back at me with more force than I expected. His opinions no
longer counted, so why did it feel like they still mattered?

So how do people act in a cougar club — especially if they aren’t
interested in being a cougar? I wondered. I couldn’t decide whether to
lean in or bolt for the door. A dormant part of me craved the spotlight,
but the rest of me just wanted to slip into the shadows.

I ordered red wine, and because I rarely drank, I began to relax
somewhere in the middle of my first glass. I took in the scene around
me. There was something for everyone, from buff young guys to older
executives looking to unwind.

I saw a group of young women in similar jewel-studded mini skirts
dancing in a circle, laughing and teasing one another. A bride-to-be,
her white veil twirling with every move, joined them, and it made me
smile to see how much fun they were having.

The author (right) and her friend Gina.
The author (right) and her friend Gina.Courtesy of Julie Gaeta
I had just ordered another glass of wine when the urge to use the
restroom hit. How could I possibly walk across the room — past all those
men? I wasn’t ready to attract any more attention. Instead, I kept
sipping. By the end of my second glass, there was no denying I had to
go. I set my glass down, gathered my courage, and headed to find the
ladies’ room.

Every few feet, someone stopped me to ask my name or see if I wanted to
dance. I was in fight-or-flight mode, laser-focused on my mission, so I
smiled, muttered vague apologies, and pressed on.

It felt strange — like I was stepping outside the bounds of who I was
expected to be. I’d never imagined I’d be in this club doing any of
this. It was a sharp contrast to the identity I’d worn for so long. And
yet, the attention was … flattering. It felt amazing to feel alive
again. Wanted.

When I finally made it back to our table, Gina raised her eyebrows.
“See? I told you,” she said, before revealing she’d seen all of the
attention I’d received.

But how could I believe it? The years of feeling unseen and unheard had
etched their mark on me.

An older man in a silver sequined jacket with a bit of a late-Elvis vibe
approached our table. He flashed a warm smile and asked if I wanted to
dance. I offered a gentle smile, but shook my head, expecting that to
end it.

Instead, undeterred, he grabbed a chair and leaned in.

He whispered something I couldn’t quite catch and before I knew it, I
blurted out, “You know, I have nine kids. And I’m going through a
divorce. Not that I ever thought I’d be here, but...”

He blinked and his face froze in a look caught somewhere between polite
confusion and mild panic. From the corner of my eye, I saw Gina
struggling to hold back a laugh.

I kept going. And going.

He smiled awkwardly, nodded a few times, and eventually excused himself.
When he left, Gina leaned over and said, “Maybe … don’t lead with those
parts of your life story next time?” We both fell over laughing.

By then, the wine had fully kicked in, and I was feeling the music and
starting to let down my guard. I wasn’t analyzing, overthinking or
trying to figure anything out — I was just in the moment.

Another guy approached, smiling as he stretched out his hand.

“Wanna dance?”

I laughed, instinctively bracing myself, and dug my heels into the
floor. But he was playful, insistent and positively charming. He grabbed
my hand and we were swept up by the crowd onto the dance floor.

Somehow my body knew exactly what to do. For the first time in ages, I
wasn’t thinking about anyone but myself.

When the song ended, another man approached me, his deep brown eyes
melting my heart. We danced through three songs.

I tried making my way back to our table, but before I could, I received
another invitation. I didn’t want to stop, but I needed to pause and
catch my breath. Gina was full of smiles and encouragement, and before I
knew it, I was back out on the floor, lost in the music.

I wasn’t just dancing — I was letting go.

At one point, I glanced toward the edge of the crowd, and to my
disbelief, I saw a small line of men waiting to dance with me. I almost
started laughing. Me?

It was ridiculous ... and wonderful.

It didn’t matter that none of this would exist tomorrow, or that I soon
would be returning to my real life. This experience had awakened
something within me that had been buried and forgotten long ago.

Gina and I weren’t ready for the night to end, so after we left the
club, we took an Uber to an all-night diner. It felt like I was 21 again.

The restaurant was filled with people spilling in from surrounding clubs
and it thrummed with an intoxicating energy. People laughed, flirted and
pulled strangers at other tables into chaotic conversations. Gina and I
ordered pancakes and fries and couldn’t stop smiling like we had just
hit the lotto jackpot.