Pink background! Blake Lively dressed weirdly like a blackjack dealer on the cover! The word "sex" appears four times on the cover!
I'd just started a new job at a reputable marketing firm. It was a stuffy working environment, but I'd befriended a few of the young female associates who worked there. On the Thursday of my first week, I sent an email to the Associates Listserv that read 'Hey, do you girls want to meet up with some of my guy friends at happy hour tonight? Hopefully, they'll bring other attractive, employed men. I'm actually in love with one named Tom, so he's off-limits. Anyone want to go? I'm still going even though my makeup is smudged, I got pen on my boob, and my pants keep falling down."
A minute later, I got a reply from one of the girls. She gently informed me that the listserv I'd used sent emails out to the entire company, including the partners.
This story illustrates two features common on Cosmo's "true embarrassing stories" pages:
1) I think someone just made this shit up.
2) If it is true, the writer is such a colossal airhead (like it would've been okay to babble about your schoolgirl boy-crazies and "my pants keep falling down" on your first week at a job, so long as it was just the associates?) that I have trouble feeling sympathy.
Will He Turn Out to Be a Cheapskate?
...He announces what he's ordering at dinner before asking you what you're getting.
Huh? How the heck is this cheap? I thought the purpose of this was to make conversation and avoid ordering the same thing, but clearly I'm a naive sucker not getting the full monetary value from my men. I guess the idea is that if he says "I'm having the green salad" you'll feel dissuaded from ordering the steak, but that's really stretching it. Call me a clod, but I think my answer would be, in all innocence, "oh, if you're still hungry then, want to share some of my steak?"
Of course, I usually split the check, which I'm sure is unthinkable to Cosmo, because then it's like I'm having sex with him for free or something, jeez.
Q: My guy always slips out when we change positions. Are we doing something wrong?
A: Nope, but he can try tightening his butt during transitions to help him stay in.
Um, you expect him to stay in when you change positions? I guess maybe if you're changing from "missionary" to "missionary... with legs up!", but seriously now. Also, I don't see how tightening his butt would help, unless your idea of a position is... OH. I see. Good times. Carry on.
Q: I am self-conscious about my tummy but don't want to keep my shirt on. How do I hide it during sex?
A: Lie on your back and let gravity do its work, lie on your stomach, or do it doggystyle.
Or you could just accept that the point of sex is to be naked. You're trusting your partner--even a casual one--with your body, so trust them or don't do it. Anyway, it's not like you're going to fool him into thinking your body's a different shape if you arrange yourself very carefully; all you're going to do is put your insecurity on display. Trying to have sex without showing your tummy is like trying to go on a date without showing your face.
Q: I want to be spanked! How do I tell him without sounding weird?
A: Spank him first.
Um, no. Sometimes the spanky thing just doesn't work like that. For example, if I ever tried to signal Tommy in this way, I would draw back a stump. (Also, I note that the answer isn't "ask him if he wants to be spanked," and the concept of using your words like a grownup is right out, so I guess she's supposed to just bust it out and go WHAP outta nowhere? Great plan!)
Q: I don't swallow, so is there a way to get rid of "it" gracefully?
A: Keep a box of tissues handy, pretend to wipe your face, and nonchalantly spit it into one of them.
"It"? You mean his SPERM COME SPOOGE SEMEN EJACULATE? If you can talk about it, you can use a freakin' word for it, sheesh. But more to the point, why pretend? If you're a spitter, spit! He's already come, he's happy, you don't have to put on a ridiculous little charade.
Q: How do you tell him you don't want him to finish inside you, even with a condom?
You put a condom on him and then you man up and take it, little lady. I'm sorry, but this is just not a reasonable request. For a magazine that talks about how men should do as much oral sex and foreplay as it takes to get a woman to her happy place, it's goddamn inconsiderate to just toss a man's orgasm aside like that. This isn't a health concern and it isn't a reasonable limit; it's just a show of cold, prissy contempt for your partner's body.
Strengthening your willpower helps you achieve goals. One exercise to amp up determination: brush your teeth with your nondominant hand for two weeks.
Welp. I'm glad I don't have to exercise or study or anything like that. Just the toothbrush thing. That'll do it.
FInally, there's The Reprehensible Article Of The Month:
Scope a Guy's Size... Without Getting Busted
Yep. A full page on how to "discreetly" try and figure out how big a guy's cock is. Of course you're only looking at the flaccid size, which doesn't really mean diddly, but more importantly, all the tips in this article are creepy as hell.
Look up absentmindedly, pretending to try to remember something you've forgotten. Next, cross your arms, and put your head in your hand (it gives the illusion of deep thought) as you turn to spy on his package. Then glance away again, looking perplexed.
If you're doing this shit, I'm pretty sure you're not giving anyone the illusion of deep thought.
While within 6 inches of him, slide your hand down as if you're about to put it in your bag but accidentally graze his groin. Offer a casual "Oops, sorry!" if he seems taken aback.
Cosmopolitan Magazine: advising you to commit sexual assault since 1886!