March Madness

Why hello, new issue of "Cosmo". Is this the month you change my life? From the looks of your cover, it's possible. You have "The Sex Quiz I Must Take". Time and Newsweek just have that annoying Hosni Mubarak.

So this quiz. I'm expecting a lengthy, detailed, probing list of no less than 25 questions. C'mon - it's supposed to leave me feeling "lustier than ever before". That seems like it might take a while. Nope - four questions. Four. And what does it tell me? That my "pleasure MO" is verbal. Meaning dirty talk. Hmm. Not really my first time at the rodeo, Cosmo. I sort of figured that out years ago. And speaking of the rodeo - when did "woman on top" become "cowgirl" and its no-sense-of-direction cousin "reverse cowgirl"? There was an embarrassingly lengthy period of time when I thought this was some new position, not an old stand-by. I was kind of convinced it involved a saddle. Or at least saying "Yee-haw" a lot.

I normally gloss right over the fashion stuff, because I'm not really their target audience. I haven't needed to know what's hot in da club for years. Big problem - of their "7 Sexy Must-Haves", one is high-waisted jeans, and another is a strapless floral dress. I'm gonna save you a trip, Stacey and Clinton. I did these jeans the first time. And you know what I learned? High-waisted jeans on a short-waisted girl means those aren't quarters in my pockets; they're my nipples. And strapless now equals topless shortly, at least in Cleavagetown. Where I've been acclaimed the Mayor for a record sixth term.

A super easy love booster? Sounds promising. Simply looking at photos of happy moments will reinforce pleasant memories and will make a guy feel closer to me. I'm reading between the lines here, but I think they mean a guy you're already in a relationship with, and not the poor guy across the hall you've photoshopped into the pics from your sister's wedding. Again, I'm making an assumption, but I'm pretty sure there's a fine but definite line between reinforcing pleasant memories and restraining order.

Page 112.  "Why Men in Love are Dragging Their Feet", during the five major stages of a relationship. Stage One: asking you out. Apparently, men's fear of being turned down is extremely heightened these days. Something to do with the recession. Great - even my chances of getting to second base are tied to the housing market. I'm told I need to learn how to encourage a guy to step up by giving him a strong "go" signal, because guys want to feel needed before they make a move. The article isn't overly helpful on how to accomplish that, though.  Am I supposed to stand around by a puddle and hope some guy pulls a Walter Raleigh? See if he can open this jar of pasta sauce I have in my purse? I don't think I can play helpless very well. I'm going to die a virgin. Okay, virgin-ish.

Stage two:  guys are waiting until after the fifth date to sleep with us these days, at least if they're really interested. Not just their feet they're dragging, I guess. I can't fault this; I think this is mostly awesome. It's purportedly because women are so sexually confident now and guys feel extra pressure to wow us. Judgy bitches are advised to make it clear  to a guy we don't consider sex to be a test of his merit. Um, some of us don't, not the first time out. We're too busy trying to make our thighs look thinner. It isn't American Idol, for Christ' sake. There is no golden ticket. And in the vast majority of cases, Steven Tyler isn't in the room. There's more talk that guys want to be the ones to make the first move towards the bedroom; they just need a big ol' green light.  So my take away from these first two stages is that guys and subtlety don't mix, and that you pretty much need to drop a piano on a guy to let him know you're interested. I have a piano. Coincidence? I think not. I didn't bother with the other three stages; I have to go Wile Coyote that bitch and bide my time. And who are these women who are seriously grading men the first time out? You're giving the rest of us blue balls. I bet it's the same women who hate chest hair.

23 Great Places to Meet Men actually had some useful tips. Or they would be useful,  if I was willing to hang out at a guitar shop or at the finish line of a 5K run. Which I'm not. But one caught my eye: go to the website of a local real estate company and check out the agents' names and photos. Email a few and set up appointments to see their listings. Doesn't matter if you're not looking to buy. This might be the real reason the housing market is in trouble. This is so sleazy. Look,  I asked a lot of stupid questions when I was buying my house ("Do you think it's haunted?"), but I think most agents would know something was up if you didn't notice the appliances but you did ask if he worked out and what he liked to do for fun.

Finally, we have "The touch that will melt his boxer briefs". Apparently, it's a light one. Except I could have sworn it was a firm one about two issues ago. Damn you, Cosmo - make up your mind. Here's what's going to happen:  I'm finally going to meet some guy when I'm hanging out at the hospital cafeteria (I can't make this stuff up), we'll make it to five dates, and then I won't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do. Rough? Featherlight? What?  And I'll be wearing high-waisted jeans and carrying a lasso while I'm trying to figure it out.