It's finally here! It was a long time coming because of difficulties in switching my subscription but it is here oh joy!
Blue cover! But it's not solid, it's a gradient holy crap what is this world coming to! Heidi Klum! I can't put my finger on it but wow does she look exactly like Mistress Matisse in this photo! She's wearing a "dress" that appears to just be black pantyhose wrapped around her body over a white slip, but I'm sure it's actually couture and costs more than all my organs! This is "The SEXY Issue" and it wants you to know "The 7 Best Orgasm Tricks in the World"!
Most hilarious cover tagline: "Why Men Marry Some Women--and Not Others". Because they cannot marry all of the women, Cosmo.
"She's the kind of girl who not only likes sex with the lights on--she'd also be cool doing it under a floodlight so I could see every inch of her."
See, this is what happens when you don't have fetishes. If you think that sex with the lights on is the sexiest thing ever, eventually just room lights aren't enough and your fantasies spiral out of control until you have to imagine the biggest light ever and it's ON oh god just to maintain an erection.
Does your man morph into a whiny 5-year-old when he's sick? Say "I know you're feeling bad, but if I start mothering you, I'll have trouble seeing you as a sex object the next time you're in the mood." He'll soon be on the road to recovery.
And when I'm done with that, I could kick a puppy, because fucking puppies, thinking they can get away with shit because they're all cute and shit, fuck 'em.
This issue contains punch-out stencils for shaping your pubic hair. Seriously. There's a triangle, heart, arrow, and landing strip. They seem really big. I know I don't have the lankiest proportions, but I punched out the landing strip and it extends further than my actual pubes do. It's nearly up to my belly button. This isn't a landing strip, it's an international airport.
...as if that's the weirdest thing about this whole deal.
It's so unfair that while your guy has to try not to explode, triggering your orgasm during sex can feel like a major project. Blame it on the way we're built. "Women take longer to reach their peak because their anatomy is more complicated," explains [idiot].
Oh god, not this "complicated" shit. You know what? Men have widely varying levels of sensitivity and aversion in their glans, frenulum, shaft, foreskin, testicles, perineum, buttocks, anus, nipples, inner thighs, lower abdomen, and left freakin' big toe. I guess this means that male anatomy is coooomplicated, wah, so I can't be held responsible if my male partners are just too darn complicated to get off. And, by sheer coincidence, it fits in perfectly with my stereotype of men as capricious and mysterious creatures that humans can't quite understand.
You could tell your partner what to do every step of the way, except that calling out directions like TomTom won't exactly put you in an orgasm-friendly headspace.
Hey, TomTom doesn't have a recording for "oh yeah, deeper, just a little, oh wow, press harder... OH YES JUST EXACTLY THERE OH GOD FUCK ME JUST LIKE THAT" Road, okay?
And it would be really distracting for him too. For guys, libido and confidence are linked, so "even the suggestion that he's doing something wrong in bed can make him insecure and derail his desire," says [moron].
"You want to touch my clit? That's... great, really, great. You want to lick my nipples? That's... excellent, you're a very special boy. You're getting out the live armadillo? That's... wonderful, you get a gold star."
This whole article, although it's titled "The World's Best Orgasm Tricks," is really just a guide to having sex without ever communicating anything. You're not allowed to tell him where to touch you, but you're allowed to moan more when he guesses right; you're not allowed to ask for more foreplay, but you're allowed to refuse to take your underpants off. It's actually amazing the lengths these "sexperts" will go to to avoid using the English language.
Another trick: Bring chocolate sauce or any other yummy substance to bed. Let a little spill on the spot where you want to feel his mouth, and invite him to lick it off, says [idiot]. It's a fun way to make him realize that the sides and bottoms of my breasts--not just the nipples--crave kisses and licks.
Hey, chocolate sauce, awesome, I did that once when I was sixteen, but why exactly am I allergic to the sentence "the sides and bottoms of my breasts are really sensitive, kiss and lick me there"?
I'm not trying to be kinkier-than-thou, the "sixteen" comment was dumb (although true!), there's nothing wrong with chocolate sauce if that's how you like to get sticky. But it should be a way of having fun, not a way of playing Marco Polo with your erogenous zones because you think using words is cutting his balls off.
Q: He does the schmoopy baby-talk thing. It's annoying. How do I get him to stop?
A: Turn it into a joke. Try repeating this line from Forgetting Sarah Marshall: "I can see your vagina from here!"
And having a vagina, that would be terrible.
Q: Do open relationships work?
Call him when he's at work and tell him about a fantasy you "just had" that involves his protecting you from danger then jumping your bones. It'll make him feel more manly... and turned on.
I know I'm a beta and I got no game, but when I tell a guy about my sexual fantasies, I'm telling him my goddamn fantasies. It's a really personal and hot thing. If I just fucking make them up, that electrical sense of vulnerability and intimacy is gone. Also, shit, I've got enough of 'em already, I don't need to make up any more.
On fixing "sex glitches":
Oops, you're out of lube!
Mix 1 tablespoon of saliva (the thick kind deep in your throat works best--its viscosity makes it a good substitute for lube) with 1 tablespoon of water (to stretch out the spit). Swish it in your mouth to blend.
I didn't know that you could make the advice "just hock a loogie on it" 500% more complicated and 1000% more gross, but Cosmo, you managed.
God. It's sinking in slowly. You have to hock a loogie into a tablespoon, then slurp it back up, then put some water on the spoon, and slurp that in too without swallowing the loogie, then swirl it up in your mouth and then spit it out in your hand and then put it on your junk. I may be kinky but that's the most perverted thing I've heard all day.
You're feeling kinky but short on props (like a scarf) to tie him up.
Public Service Announcement: do not tie people up with scarves. They are a bitch and a half to untie and can cut off circulation while you're trying to find a hacksaw. Rope and restraints aren't "edgier," they actually work better.
This issue contains content on an iPhone app that means he's cheating (it deletes old text messages, so, you know, CHEATER), an iPhone app to listen to during sex (white noise, sexy), and an iPhone app that makes it into a vibrator (moisture damage not covered by warranty). I'm wondering about sponsorship.
You and your guy tend to be loud... but you have roommates.
Rent a horror flick (with plenty of yelling and shrieking) and tell them you're going to watch it in your room. If they hear any screams, they'll assume it's the movie.
"Holly, why do you watch The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, specifically the dinner scene on repeated loop, three times a night? Are you... okay?"
[Fair warning: linked scene is completely horrible.]
There's an article entitled "The Item of Clothing All Wives Should Toss." It's sweatpants, of course, because if you own a single pair, your marriage is over. There's even a great story in here from a woman who bought sweatpants and that very day stopped having sex with her husband.
[Dumbass] calls sweats the anti-lingerie, because there's nothing mysterious or gender-specific about them. He insists that even if we aren't in the mood for the wild sex that lingerie--with its straps and clasps--invites, Scott and I should still make quiet time seductive my rousing each other's senses.
Shit, man, don't I get any down time? I gotta be constantly fuckable even when I don't actually want to fuck? Should I wear cleats all the time too, just in case a golf tournament breaks out?
8 pages later, there's a pictorial of a well-toned young woman in a sports bra and very tight sweatpants doing thigh exercises in a very... flexible... manner. If her husband sees this he's going to be totally turned off and never fuck her again.
Oh Lord. This is already a long Cosmocking but I can't stop now because I just came across an article entitled "Could This Be the New Wonder Drug?" And they are not talking about modafinil. In fact, I wasn't entirely clear for a moment what they were talking about, because the graphic is a jar of translucent blue capsules.
Studies about the health benefits of semen landed on our desks.
I would have loved to be a fly on the wall at the art-direction meeting where they decided that making the capsules white would be just a little too much.
The studies in question state that women who have unprotected vaginal sex report less depression than women who use condoms, therefore semen is an antidepressant. (Presumably it isn't effective orally, but I'd like to make a trial with the transbuccal route.) Apparently the magical chemical has the extremely non-marketing-friendly name of "spermidine."
A few spas are now touting spermidine facials.
On camping (actually, on pretending to go camping by lying in sleeping bags in the backyard, oh Cosmo):
Don't worry about lying on the ground--animal studies suggest that bacteria found in soil may produce serotonin, a feel-good hormone.
And if you were eating the soil, and if serotonin was orally active, that would mean something! Specifically it would mean you might go hyperthermic and die! Because Serotonin Does Not Work That Way!
Thanks to your crap computer, you call the IT guy at work at least once a week. Last time, you greeted him with:
A) "Hi, I'm having trouble accessing the server."
B) "How's my favorite computer genius doing today?"
C) "I'm about to owe you a little sumthin'-sumthin' the next time I see you."
The answer is B. Because actual sexual harassment of the IT guys who undoubtedly hate your guts (if you're calling every goddamn week, it's not the "crap computer," it's what happens after you "deleted all those files I never use anyway") is going a little far, but being hilariously condescending is, according to the quiz, "working your sex appeal."
You know how you have that one fantasy that never fails to set you off when you're masturbating? There's nothing wrong with conjuring up that same image when you're with your guy. Just don't scream out R-Patz's name.
"OH YEAH, OH YEAH... TAKE IT ALL, R-PATZ!!!"