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One afternoon, when I was pregnant with our second child, James*, I was upstairs in our bedroom while Kim was napping.

I went downstairs to check on the laundry, and when I walked into the room, I saw Brian going down on my best friend.

When they finally got back, I was like, "Where were you guys? I wanted to try and convince Brian to end it with Sarah, and I spent months battling with the two of them." They told me that the guy there just talked their ear off for a long time. He ultimately told me he loved her but if I didn't want him to continue things with her then we would try to work on our marriage. I called my mother and I said, "I need to get out of here," and I left.I'm okay with not having to discuss it further for the time being. In reality, I am old enough to technically be his mother, but I still don't care. There are some “cultural” differences that occur when you’re dating a younger guy. He’s never seen “Raising Arizona,” but he loves Bob Dylan and Jim Croce. He describes himself as an “old soul.” I’ve taken him to social gatherings where he was one of the youngest adults there, and, thanks to his amazing sense of humor and the fact that he performs on stage in front of hundreds of strangers a week, he’s blended in with flying colors. I get the occasional look -- especially when we go out for drinks and get carded (hey, at least I'm still getting carded). I was honestly hesitant at the start — what was I going to tell my family? She’s younger than my mom (she’s the one who introduced me to rock ‘n’ roll, so I figured she’d be as good a jumping-off point as any). I know I'm still going to have to defend my decision to a lot of people — and I'm ready to do so. I just thought that sharing my story might help shatter the stereotype of the “c-word.” The moral of the story: Be with whomever makes you happy.

I told her what the situation was and she helpfully boiled it down for me. ” I said, “Yes I am.” She countered with “Well, that’s all that matters.”I still haven't told my folks, but I suspect my mom has figured it out.

I guess you can say I’m in the throes of a major midlife crisis.

As Dolly Parton once famously quipped, “It takes a lot of money to look this cheap.” Because of all of this, I’m constantly called the “c-word” — that “c-word” being “cougar.” I do really hate that word.

It was awful when I first left because James was only a few months old and I was nursing.

I would have to pump my breast milk and Brian and Sarah would be the ones to feed it to him.

We figured we would stay with them until Brian could find a job again, and then we would move out. It seemed like a hunky-dory idea, Sarah and Dan, me and Brian — the four of us living happily together, under one roof.