An Analysis of Cosmopolitan Magazine, Part 2

The last time (well the last time that the general public knows about) I read an issue of Cosmopolitan Magazine in its entirety was a little longer than just a year ago. I read it for two reasons. The first is that I just wanted something to write about, and was not adept enough to come up with something that I thought might entertain people without using some kind of outside source, and Cosmo provided that outside source that would give me plenty of material. Basically, I was looking to make fun of something, and since Cosmo is the closest depiction to what a vast amount of American women seek to eventually be in a glossy print format (something I think is very problematic), and since it is their main source of advice concerning things like sex and fashion and comprehension of men, I decided to go with that. The second reason was that I was really really hell-bent on trying to understand women better. I would spend hours upon hours talking to girls that were my friends, just sitting there like the gay best friend that they all wish they could have (I’ve even gone clothes shopping with girls before), simply because I wanted to try and “get” what was going through the mind of a typical woman, because at that time I really, really hated girls (but have since downgraded to “strongly dislike,” based on recent studies that have shown they aren’t all conniving and spiteful whores), and wanted to know just what made them the way they were.

So, this meant that I had to associate myself with them quite often and infiltrate their ranks, kind of get a feel for them. (I was kind of like that dude who was trying to make a documentary about grizzly bears a few years ago, and eventually got eaten by the very mammals he was living amongst. Except that I haven’t been eaten yet, probably because I’m high in fat and low in protein. Girls would not even think about eating me. I’m like a Hot Pocket dipped in ranch dressing.) Part of this--and one I favored because it didn’t actually include being around girls for an extended period of time--was reading that magazine you always (ALWAYS) see gals toting around with them. It’s kind of like how monks are always carrying around bibles , or how Linus is always carrying around his blankey. It was obvious to me that this magazine was something that many girls respected highly, and would take advice from. (This kind of fucks up my Linus analogy, because I don’t think I ever saw an episode of The Peanuts where he was actually getting advised by his childhood play toy, but I’ve always wanted to incorporate that eccentric comic strip character, so I’m going to leave it.)

So, I read it a few times. And I was pretty extremely appalled. Some of the sexual stuff I came across in that magazine they suggested women do to their male partners in the sack was so absurd and disconcerting that it almost made me look at sex the way that elderly religious people and the Jonas Brothers do: never until marriage, and even then with the lights off, a gunshot start and a stopwatch running, with only reproduction in mind. I’m not saying I’m some kind of picky sexual person, or that I’m even a person that knows what the good stuff is supposed to be like, because I’m neither of those. I’m just trying to say that when a girl reads in a magazine--that she highly respects--that she should press on a dude’s taint (I understand that my readership has grown to a few people that are over the age of thirty that probably don’t know what a taint is, so I’ll explain: the middle ground between the male frontal genitalia and his ass) when he is reaching climax, I get a little frightened. This is because I would not press on my taint at any point during my day, and especially not when I’m near climax. That’s a weird area down there, and I don’t want people prodding it. The taint is a bridge, but one that should not be traveled upon. Anyway, that was one of the gripes that I had with this magazine, and so I decided to write an entire little thing about it (last November, it’s on this site somewhere).

This year, I decided to do it again. Mainly because I still feel like I haven’t made much headway at all in the “Comprehension of Females” category, and keep holding on to the hope that either the flaws of Cosmo’s logic in directing young women or its accuracy in actually telling them to do something that the majority of semi-average American males will like--or both--will help me gain just a small fraction of higher understanding about women than what I currently have.

Also, they usually have pretty women on the cover, and I like to smell the sample perfumes they enclose in their advertisements.

So, basically I’m going to analyze another issue of Cosmo, but this time I’m going to dig a little deeper, I think. I’m going to start by doing a little analysis of the cover stories (which was the extent of what I did last time), and then I’m going to go back through the magazine and pick out some of the stuff that strikes me as either good, bad or just absolutely off-the-wall crazy, because I’ve realized you seriously can’t judge a book (or magazine) by its cover.

Fergie: Her Naughty Honeymoon Surprise. The first story I read (well, skimmed) is on the cover model, who happens to be Fergie, or Stacy Ferguson, from the Black Eyed Peas. I wasn’t able to read this entire article, because I have absolutely no vested interest in Fergie, and don’t think she’d really help me understand women any better at all. Men, maybe, because she’s married to Josh Duhamel and he is absolutely a stone cold fox. I did find, though, from my skimming, that Fergie doesn’t like it when people call her “fugly,” because “it hurts.” She also gave some advice by saying not to “assume what someone else is feeling.” I learned not to call people names based on their physical inadequacies, as well as the fact that I was not a mind reader, sometime in kindergarten. I guess sometimes Cosmo’s readership needs a little reminder, though.

Apparently, all the naughty honeymoon surprise from the title entailed was that she took a leather feather duster with her on their honeymoon, but she doesn’t reveal just exactly what she did with it. Hopefully she was getting ready for what marriage is supposed to be like and was actually using it to dust shelves and shit.

“He Shoots, He Scores!” Wacked-Out Things Guys Say in Bed: Read it, and think it’s bullshit. I haven’t been in bedrooms when any guys I know (or don’t know, actually) have been copulating. But, I have watched a lot of porn in my day, and even the actors on most of those don’t fit into the categories they list here (and porn is usually greatly exaggerated). I certainly don’t fit into any of the groups they listed, but would like to try one they listed called “The Announcer,” just for a reaction. Apparently, this is a guy that narrates the entire sexual experience like a correspondent for ESPN. I’m almost certain that nobody in their right mind does this, but I also think it’d be the most hilarious thing ever to do to someone. I wonder, if I ever tried this, if it’d be a good idea to bring Jay’s Telestrator with me.

Is Stress Turning You Into a Raging Bitch? The very first sentence of this article pissed me off. It reads: “This time of year can try even the sweetest chick’s patience, what with crowded stores, too many parties (and hangovers), and annoying family demands--and experts are saying this month will be a perfect storm of stress because of financial worries on top of everything else.”

Seriously, give me a fucking break. At this particular point in my life, I’d say I’m at a pretty low stress level. This is not because I’ve been able to stay away from parties, but probably because I’ve been able to do shit like go to parties and have a good time, because I don’t have much gravely serious stuff to worry about. I absolutely hate that this magazine gives girls the impression that Christmas shopping, getting drunk at parties, and good-natured requests from family members during the holiday season are actually legitimate reasons to be stressed and, apparently in-turn, a bitch and a half. I guess I could understand a girl being stressed and a bit uneasy if she’s actually undergoing something stressful, like a family member being very sick or a really serious make-or-break-your-grade test coming up in the next 24 hours. Even then, though, I’ve learned to no longer tolerate a girl being a bitch during these times, because circumstances like these are not my fault, and I shouldn’t have to be punished for them (unless I’m the one that gave the family member genital herpes or am the professor giving the test). I know guys probably do the same thing, but wouldn’t everything be a little bit easier if we weren’t mean to the people that cared for us the most? I mean, fuck, how hard is that to do?

The only thing from that sentence that I can understand being severely stressful is the whole financial worries thing. Sure, being broke sucks, and a lot of people lost a lot of money last year when everything went to shit. But isn’t that common knowledge? I mean, I know that my family was able to talk about it last year. We basically acknowledged that things weren’t as great as they usually were, and because of such we should all tone down our Christmas gift giving. There, problem solved. I mean, I was kind of pissed that I couldn’t get that entire Burberry wardrobe and pair of Christian Louboutin platform pumps (yes, I know what those are...I’ve been around some materialistic people in my day) but it really wasn’t that big of a stresser.

After that opening line, I couldn’t bring myself to read much more of the article, but I did find a few of the magazine’s solutions to utilize if you have to wait in a line four people deep to purchase a merino wool sweater for your dad for Christmas or were somehow forced to take a shot too many of grape Three Olives at a Christmas party. One was to work out. The other was to kiss your boyfriend. Also included was watching funny Internet video clips, drinking coffee with your girlfriends and talking slower. These all seemed pretty reasonable to me, and completely self-explanitory. Except for the talking slower one. That’s probably just going to piss off whoever has to listen to you. It’s the holiday season. People have shit to do.

Speaking of having shit to do, I’m sure whoever’s reading this has shit to do as well. I just took a look at the rest of the cover and don’t find much enticing there, except for the last article I’m going to talk about. So, I’m just going to put some little thoughts about stuff I saw and observations I made in the rest of the magazine I’ve yet to cover, then finish with the one article in the entire publication that seriously caught my eye.

--JC Penney is apparently a legit place to shop for lingerie, judging by the advertisement I just looked at. Pink bra and panty set with baby blue lace and whit polka dots? I mean, I’d dig it.

--Estee Lauder Sensuous smells not unlike the elderly woman that used to teach me piano when I was like 8 years old.

--There’s an article called “Why Taken Guys Seem Sexier,” which is kind of disturbing. That’s not the way it should be at all. If it wasn’t that way, then Tiger Woods would probably still have a flawless “driving record” and people the world over wouldn’t know that he likes to bang chicks immediately after taking Ambien. (Because having money had nothing to do with Tiger banging at least 10 women out of wedlock. It was because he’s married.) This article mentions something about the competitive nature of women, which makes sense I guess. I mean, I’d probably pay more attention to a woman trying to snipe a married man than one playing a sport.

--I know I just endorsed an ad in the magazine a few sentences ago, but just like everything else in this magazine, their ads are extremely hit and miss. I would definitely enjoy a woman jumping out of a box on Christmas wearing the aforementioned underwear, but I would be extremely let down if I opened a box from her that contained Tim McGraw’s new cologne. I might actually rather have a container of Bod Man. I just flipped another few pages and saw an ad for perfume by Paris Hilton. She is dressed as a mermaid. What the fuck? Who approves these things? It was like when somebody decided to make a sequel to The Sandlot with an entirely different class. Who in the fuck thinks these are good ideas?

--There’s a little article talking about why guys are scared of marriage. Then, they suggest that you talk with your boyfriend about it, and this will help him come around. If a woman brought up marriage to me, I would simply break out some Ludacris lyrics and say, “Sorry, but I’m married to my music, but we got a pre-nup. So if that bitch don’t act right I’m still gettin’ my cut.”

--There’s a stud meter. And Levi McConaughey is on it. Pretty high up, too. He’s 1 1/2 years old. They also talk shit on Jason Lee and say the Chipmunks movies are annoying. Fuck these people.

--I made it about 2/3 of the way through the issue, and was pretty relieved to have not seen anything about stimulating a dude’s taint. Then, I came across an entire page of the magazine dedicated to suggesting how a girl can use a vibrator with her man. Sure enough, one of them was to put a vibrator on the man’s “perineum.” Fuck. I’m definitely not at a point in my life where I would be able to accept, let alone enjoy, something like that.

Make His #1 Sex Wish Come True: This caught my eye. Mainly, because one of the most disturbing things I’ve seen in Cosmo are the sex tips. I’m always very wary of these, as I said before, but it also hooks me in. I think this is the whole thing that gets guys to skim through this magazine while in the checkout line at Wal-Mart. There’s always something about sex on the cover, and guys see it and want to see what they might be able to expect from their lady. Sometimes it gets downright frightening. This article alleges that what men want the most is “to be wanted,” which I’m not sure is true or not. I think that’s too deep of a question to really get into in a magazine, or on a blog. People are complicated, or something.

-The first one I read says to call him on his cell phone, and tell him that you’re touching yourself in your bed. I would be all for a phone call such as this, I guess, unless I happened to get it at a very inopportune time. Like when I was driving a car or waiting in line at the post office. Waiting in line with an erection is generally not socially acceptable, and nobody wants to do the waistband tuck. Especially if they have jeans on.

-The next one tells the girl to press her chest into the man’s back so it looks like you’re hugging him from behind. Then you’re supposed to rub your breasts and pelvis against him “for several seconds.” I thought about this and started laughing. How fucking awkward would that look? It’s pretty difficult to do something like that in public, I think. It’s like picking your nose.

-One tells a girl to basically simulate fellatio on a bottle. This could be kind of cool, or also very extremely weird.

-“Write him a note, describing, in detail, a hot time you two hooked up. Make the last one read, ‘Think we can top that tonight?’” That’s all good and well, but before you do this, make sure you’re really okay with giving a guy a suggestion to top your craziest sexual experience together. Because you might end up dressed as Marilyn Monroe trying to get it on 60 feet up in the air on a metal I-Beam suspended from a crane at a skyscraper construction sight in the middle of a brightly lit city. Or something like that.

-“Whisper these eight words into his ear: ‘I want to have sex with you--now.’” You’re supposed to do this in line at the grocery store or while eating breakfast. For the first time in my life, I feel that Cosmo is truly onto something.

-“Sneak up behind your guy while he’s on the phone and reach around to grab his penis.” This would be okay if said guy was not talking to his boss or mother. Also, make sure he has a strong heart. Something like that could be extremely startling.

-“Take off his underwear with your teeth.” Yeah, and watch him cackle uncontrollably.

***Okay. The rest of these are too blatantly sexual for me to talk about on here. I’m starting to get the dumb chills, and have made the decision that, if I ever have a daughter, she will not be allowed to read this magazine until she is at least 18. Who would’ve thought that people might be becoming more promiscuous at a young age because of reading? I didn’t think anybody read anymore. Maybe my career aspirations aren't that fucked after all. Thanks, Cosmo.