I am a Cosmo devotee. Have been since I started stealing my mom’s when I was twelve. I am amazed monthly by the hair, the witty captions, and their never ending innovation of synonyms for the word penis. Many of my friends, acquaintances, relatives and sisters swear by Cosmo as their Bible (and for the most part I do too). But there are some times (well…many times) when Cosmo’s take on real world situations is - in a word - whack.

I will still accept their declarations of lip gloss superiority like they were handed down from the divine, but when it comes to their interpretation of all things men (or at least all things greatly generalized and stereotyped), I think I’ll be reading with a grain of salt handy.

And I’ll pass that grain onto you. With every passing month and, in turn, every new “Secret Sex Fantasy Guys Won’t Tell You!” revealed, I will be here to break it all down for you. I will find the truth buried deep between the unsafe sex positions and “things he secretly loves you for,” so you don’t end up with a stiff neck, an angry boyfriend or some seriously embarrassing sexcapades.

Case in Point: His Body Reveals What He’d Never Tell You

This month, Cosmo attempts to decipher the inner workings of the male mind via seemingly trivial physical cues (again.) You’re man’s scratching his ear? He’s prob cheating on you. What’s that? He blinks more than 50 times in a minute? His favorite sports team is winning. Seriously though, the things that Cosmo interprets from the following random body language are hardly the earth shattering revelations I thought I was in for.

Printed to the nines in red and black boldface, I immediately assume that this article contains crucial, non-regurgitated info. What I find is quite a lot of previously printed concepts, some “DUH” points, and (obv) euphemisms for penises. Read More »

“You’re a feminist, aren’t you?”

And with that devious rhetorical flanking manuver, you have lost the argument. Anything you say can and will be held against you in future debates. It doesn’t matter what an intelligent, erudite, level-headed individual you were before; you have now become the batsh*t crazy feminazi. Your mouth wiggles furiously but nobody hears anything you say.
Sometimes, I have to put my life on hold and just let myself be baffled.

Because you know what gets me? That guy who’s been insisting to me that Frank Miller isn’t a mysogynistic assh*le is probably a feminist himself. And if I were a betting man, I’d bet good money that you are too, even if you don’t know it.

Case in point: I was walking around London with a female friend, and a glance at the newspaper headlines lead to a debate about politics, then social issues, and then the f-word came up. “I’m not a feminist or anything,” she said. “I mean, I think everyone should be equal, and we should be allowed to do what we want, make our own choices, all that stuff. I think civil rights for everyone is obviously very important. But the whole man-hating thing, I don’t get that. I don’t think I’m a feminist.”

“Yeah? Is that so,” I said.

Because you know what? Feminism, at its core, is mostly about being nice to people. It’s not about hating men and their big, dumb penises, and if you asked most feminists, they probably wouldn’t tell you that all heterosexual sex is rape. The name is probably the worst part, because it implies that you either need to be a woman or believe they’re superior to men in some way. But it’s not about a battle of the sexes, and it’s not about choosing sides — well, to be more accurate, it’s about letting everyone choose their own side. Read More »