Revenge of the Babysat

Over the years, young-ish boys have tended to get randy with me and I'm not entirely sure why. I don't sit on park benches and offer them candy bars post-soccer practice, nor have I ever supplied alcohol for a junior prom after-party. (Also my tits really aren't that big.) Did I just somehow veer off my Mary Kay LeTourneau path of destiny?



Either way, I am unwittingly a cougar way before my time.



At age 14, I was sexually harassed by an 8-year-old who I was being paid to babysit. Rowen demanded we watch "Drop Dead Fred," an early '90s Phoebe Cates flick (sorry fellas, no bikini dream sequence here) where her childhood imaginary friend returns to wreak havoc upon her life.



Much like Fred, the Freudian representation of his sweet-but-meek owner's id, Rowen similarly tormented me and toyed with our power dynamic. He whined until I let him sit on my lap, and mere minutes into the movie, I felt his goblin hands grab my "bad touch" zone.

"Don't do that!" I scolded.

Rowen peered up at me mock-innocently. He may've been 8, but this little dude knew exactly what he was doing. (Admit it guys, some of you little pervs did.)



Even though I was getting the same uncomfortable vibes usually reserved for my best friend's Uncle Fester, I said to myself, "Self, he's just a kid. Don't make a mountain out of this weird little mole hill." But sure enough, moments later, Rowen was rubbing his face up against my shirt trying to motorboat me. I reprimanded him again and scooted the little molester off my lap for good. He grinned and giggled, turning his attentions back to the TV. This kid was a total deviant, and I was stuck with him for the next six hours. And like most abuse victims, I was too worried and embarrassed to tell to his parents what happened.



But years down the line, I realized it wasn't about age - it was about the particular boy. For instance, there was my 16-year-old intern, Kevin at my first job out of college. Kevin was tall and very cute and definitely "mature" for his age - it was hard to resist this smooth character's brand of mock-innocent flirting. It was also hard to tell him what to do, because he'd bat those big puppy dog eyes and IM me that I "looked sexy today." One day, Kevin swore me to secrecy over IM, then confessed ... he was having an affair with his female homeroom teacher. She was two years older than me. I wasn't surprised. In fact, I was sort of jealous.



Years later, I bumped into Kevin hanging out in a park with some of his soccer buddies . Alas, I was with some unmemorable boyfriend at the time and couldn't seize this finally-of-age moment with my former intern. It just wasn't meant to be for us.



BUT one summer when I was in my late 20s, I finally tested these wannabe cougar claws: Magnus was 19, the lead guitarist in a Swedish indie-rock-metal band. I could've been his babysitter, his camp counselor, his teacher, his manager - and manage we did. In the morning, I gave him a granola bar and sent him on his way back to Stockholm...



After that, I started getting it on with young dudes from all over the Tri-State, 'cuz we have the cutest frat guys in the world!



I hope this doesn't land me on some neighborhood watch list.