We have previously seen how dangerous a visit to the gym can be here, here and here. Here is one more reason: Cosmo.
That's right. In my marvelous gym today, I made the mistake of checking out the reading material. Like a moth to a flame, I was drawn to the catchy cover of a magazine, which I realized too late was Cosmopolitan.
What I learned depresses me enormously. There was a detailed, graphically vivid article on how to spice up your man's sex life: hand job. I kid you not, ladies - it apparently brings back the anticipation of one's adolescence. Frankly, as far as I am concernedand as things stand, it is more anticipation than I can handle. The ladies were warned that this is an area that guys are, ahem, familar with - duh. Therefore the educational article stressed the importance of novelty, creative hand-positioning (One hand?! Or two?!! Turn to page 131!!), speed, rhythm, soda water, safety razor, dumbbell(e)s, gerbils and goggles were all explained.
My knees went weak. It was not the weights I was lifting, I tell you. I wished someone would have given me a hand.
(That was bad, yes)
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