“I’m a MILF” Club – Part 1

It’s funny to think we’ll be eternally grateful for the American Pie movie series for introducing the term, MILF (Mother I’d Like to Fuck) into the mainstream lexicon.

I’m not being presumptuous by declaring myself a member because it’s clearly up to another person to declare you a MILF, the criteria being someone else has to want to fuck you. Lucky for me, I was already a mother to a two-year-old when I met my current husband 12 years ago and he officially inducted me into the MILF Club, and I’ve been a proud, condom-toting member ever since.

This was when I was 30 and now I’m a month shy of 42 and while I think I’m in my prime, wearing short shorts and cutting my newly highlighted hair into a sexy shag, I don’t “get out there” enough to verify and reinforce my MILF status. My husband confidently asserts I am a gold star member.

I live in a building composed 75% of octogenarians, who love my polite children. When the great grandfather who is perpetually showing me baseball cards wallet photos of his grandkids tells me I have a pretty dress, I’m flattered but equally disheartened when he tells 79-year-old Mildred the same thing.

A few months ago I waited for the elevator in the lobby when Matthew, an extroverted 16-year-old, hormone-ravaged, neighbor sauntered over with a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Hello,” he says, almost dropping his voice an octave, “How are you today?” He’s not nervous at all. “Your hair looks so pretty today.”

At first, I don’t realize what’s happening.

“Thank you,” I say.

The elevator arrives and he holds the door open for me, chivalrously. I push 6 and 7 because I know he is a floor above me.

“So, do you work hard to get that hair?” An interesting conversation starter but let’s see where it leads.

“Not really,” I say honestly. “I’m too busy to care much about my hair anymore; this is me au natural.”

“It’s gorgeous. You’re lucky. Most of the girls at school seem to work hard to look good.”

“That’s because they want boys to like them. I’m old enough to know boys want girls for more than then their hair.”

The elevator stops at 6 and I get out. He holds the door open, continuing the conversation.

“I’m in a play at school. A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. I’d love to invite you and your family. This Thursday and Friday night.”

I don’t know if we have plans and it doesn’t matter. I’m not the type to go support pseudo-teenage strangers in their high school show.

“Thanks,” I say. “I think we have plans, but thanks for inviting me.”

I see him in the elevators or the lobby sometimes; he’s always friendly, eager to start a conversation, anxious to follow me wherever I’m going.

I tell my husband about the exchange and he says, “Aww, he was flirting with you.”

“Does that mean I’m still a MILF, like an extra cougar MILF?”

“Highest caliber!”

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One thought on ““I’m a MILF” Club – Part 1

  1. Pingback: When the Workers Hit on Me” Club” – HeartsEverywhere

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