What Could Go Wrong at the National Single Cougar Convention?

A lot of things, apparently!  One intrepid reporter went undercover as a cougar (though she’s only 31) at the National Single Cougar Convention a few days ago.  All the lonely old ladies and the twentysomething dudes trying to get a good story for later (“She was 87, bro!”) met in San Francisco to get their age gap on:

The cubs outnumbered the cougars by 5 to 1, and while each cougar had her share of suitors and dance partners, the remaining cubs, growing more drunk and desperate with each passing moment, began to revert to a sort of fraternity house/Lord of the Flies mentality. One gentleman grew so angry with my polite refusals to dance with him, he started calling me a b*tch… Every half hour or so, Scott would come by and ask me why I was being such a “little f—ing b*tch.”

Why indeed, reporter lady?  You totally missed out on a winner with that one.  They also held the first ever Miss Cougar USA Pageant.  Pictures, after the jump.  

And this sad exchange:

“Have you found a special cougar?” I asked one guy who told me he was 28 and “in sales.”

“Nah. I thought there’d be more fake boobs.”

“Really? You like an older chick with fake boobs?” I was surprised.

“You know the look I’m talkin’ about. A little Botox, fake tan…a cougar! These chicks are old.”

I mean, what?  Kid, you don’t go to f*cking IHOP and then be like, where all the cheeseburgers at?  Also, the hell kind of taste does this guy have in women?  What’s my type?  Oh I don’t know, I guess I have a thing for used-up looking old ladies who try too hard.  Furthermore, the whole cougar/cub thing is kind of off-putting.  Don’t furries call each other that or something?

The woman on the right in the last picture was crowned Miss Cougar USA.

Full story at SF Chronicle, Nerve.