Can the Cougar Trend Make This Man Famous?

Jon Snyder

I promised myself I wouldn't dance. That goes out the window as soon as a petite blonde asks me to. The woman, who appears to be early-50s, is pretty adamant. She weaves us through a crowd to the edge of a packed dance floor. "DJ Miguel," who flew in from Las Vegas, is waving a glittery drumstick as he blasts the Rolling Stones' "Brown Sugar":

I bet your mama was a tent show queen, and all her boyfriends were sweet sixteen.

Welcome to Sausalito! Population: At least 100 single people! We're at a club overlooking six miles of water that lead to the San Francisco skyline. When I first arrive, Gosse charges over. He seems surprised that I've made it.

An hour later, he's not at all surprised to see me dancing -- with his wife. That's right. The short blonde is Debby Gosse, his bride of 12 years. She's also his "partner in crime." She tags along on the cruises, helps manage the ticket table at events, and keeps the party going. Part of her job is getting guys on the dance floor. Rich does the same with the women.

It's an interesting dynamic, which might seem difficult to reconcile if it weren't for the fact they met at one of Gosse's parties 13 years ago. She was in the front row for his keynote speech. She laughed at all his jokes.

"There's a lot of cougars at this party!" Gosse points out. Technically, Debby is one of them, but not for Gosse. She's actually four years younger than he is.

"People say 'Aren't you a hypocrite?'" he explains, "You have to understand, cougars don't want to date an old man like myself; they want to date young hot studs."

Indeed. I sense a lot of eyes in my direction (though it could be my wedding ring).

The evening feels a little like a wedding without food. The ages span from 30s to 80s, though most folks are between 40 and 60. There's plenty of booze and small talk. DJ Miguel plays everything from Lady Gaga to Creedence and Beyonce's "Single Ladies," twice.

Towards the end, I find myself sitting next to two 52-year-old women. One says she's been coming to Gosse's parties for 15 years. She never dates younger, only older. "I tried the whole 'silver fox' thing [for parties]," Gosse told me that one afternoon at his house, "Yeah, that went over like a dead fish."

In Gosse's world, clichés are continually embraced and celebrated. There is no irony for irony's sake. No snark. Or pessimism. For 33 years, the guy's been booking rooms and crossing his fingers people show up. Betting on loneliness is a pretty sure thing, but not every night goes off. So he'll just continue doing whatever it takes to get our attention, whatever might keep his career-long party going.

"I know the cougar thing is just a fad and eventually it's gonna die. That's why I've got my next big thing all planned out for next year," he smirks, then takes a sip from that balloon-etched wine glass, "But you'll have to wait to see what it is."

Images by Jon Snyder, who is associate photo editor at Wired.com and a frequent contributor to San Francisco magazine.

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