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Ridiculous Tips for a Miserable Sex Life: May 2012
Cosmo's summer tips, Men's Health's sex-boosting foods, and so much more.
BY BEN REININGA
Each month like clockwork, men's and women's magazines hit the newsstands, bursting with terrible sex and dating advice. And each month, we pick out the worst tips and mock them for your edification.
As soon as it gets warm, men’s and women’s magazines kick into high gear. I think it’s because of the beach: you need to buy a swimsuit, drop five pounds fast, tone your arms, lose your guy, find the SPF — and the new man — that’s right for you, then keep him ensnared in your sexual web until at least Labor Day... at which point you can hole up with some Funyuns in your bathrobe and wait ‘til next year.
"His Sweaty Superpower"
You know a glimpse of his glistening post-workout bod turns you on, but it can boost your mood too. Research shows that the scent of male perspiration reduces tension in women... so give your guy a big post-gym hug or stand extra close to the dude celebrating a softball victory at happy hour... and remember to breath deep.
I get it: anxiety is a burgeoning problem in twenty-first century America. We’re all stressed out, overworked, not communing enough with our inner children... but this is gross. Do what you like with your sweaty boyfriend, but strangers? Those girls at the gym — the ones with high ponytails who read Cosmo and Stairmaster like cartoon dogs falling through space — already freak me out. Now I have to worry that they’re going to try to chill out by huffing my masculine musk? PASS.
"Meet a Guy by the 4th of July"
To get a, er, jump on the hotties of summer, you have to know the latest spots to look...
This whole “meet a guy in x amount of time” is a Classic Cosmo Concept, and, I’d argue, a little anxiety-provoking. (Back off, sweat-sniffers!) But I guess a little desperation is good for business.
So, to get you manned-up for summer, Cosmo suggests that you go to a bunch of places you’d otherwise avoid. Man places, like outdoor concerts, lifeguard competitions, arcades, beer gardens (bafflingly, they suggest you bring along a game of Jenga), and bad 3D movie premieres.
It’s not the worst advice. If you’re in a dating rut (or any kind of rut) it is a pretty good idea to do new things. But in the words of my imaginary Yiddish grandmother: “There’s plenty of fish in the sea... and they’re mostly gays or goys.” And she knew nothing of frat boys and douche bags. Which is to say, if you’re pretending to do things you hate, you’re pretty likely to meet guys you hate. And even if you buy their advice on this one, skip the bad 3D movies. I mean, not to sound all Cosmo, but when I meet a girl who’s seeing Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter by herself, I don’t think “mother of my kids.”
"Touch His Butt Like This"
In the monthly “verb + body part” game, this May is all about your hands and his ass.
Slip your hand into his back pocket and lightly stroke his ass... since it’s totally private and hidden from everyone else, it conveys that you’re feeling especially attracted to him.
They say it’s always good to get a second opinion, so here’s one: there is no way in which putting your hand in someone’s back pocket is totally hidden and private. It is totally obvious and public, because while everyone cannot see your actual hand, they can see the arm that it is attached to. Also, it does not convey that you are feeling especially attracted to him. It conveys that you are a teen from Jersey who’s had a bit too much vodka, or gin, or whatever other clear liquor you've cleverly concealed in a Deer Park water bottle. Ah, youth.
"101 Things About Men"
His Summer Dream Girl is Someone Who... 1. Wears a dress 2. Has a sexy laugh 3. Smells like the beach.
Let’s go for a rhetorical Q&A here: are girls in sundresses great? Yes. Is a sexy laugh endearing and arousing? Double yes. Now, what does the beach smell like? If you said "Rotting horseshoe crabs and poorly-disposed-of diapers," then we both clearly have a more realistic olfactory image of the beach than Cosmo. Don’t smell like invertebrate death and poop, ladycakes. I like you too much.