My Gripe with Cosmopolitan Magazine
Is this really true?
A recent article published by MSNBC.com states that according to the National Center for Health Statistics, “very few American women need fear being an old maid.” In fact, 86% of women marry by age 40. Whoa!…Hold up here. Let me get this straight—86% (scratching my head)… Jeez, way to make the 14% out there feel like total shit. Talk about a blow to their self-esteem. With that said, I am having difficulty digesting this 86% figure. Ok, not for nothing, but I cannot even get a man to pay for my $2.04 coffee on a date, and this government agency is telling me that unless I completely let myself go or become a hermit, I will more than likely be married in the next 13 years. Now don’t get me wrong, the thought of having to endure another decade of dating clueless single men makes me want to vomit, but I have to wonder how can this be true? As women age, do the standards they hold for single men precipitously decline?
Once a woman hits a certain age, does she toss aside her principles and just accept any ole bachelor that comes along who is willing to tie the knot? No wonder single men refuse to follow “the rules.” (see previous blog postings) They know that when they are ready to settle down (if ever) there are plenty of women out there who will be more than happy to overlook their poor dating etiquette simply with the promise that a diamond ring will make an appearance in the near future. I really hope women are not settling. I know, I know…women want to look young in wedding photos and there is the whole biological clock issue…I get it. I just hope women are not letting men off the hook. I will tell you right now this single broad will never look twice at a man that refuses to fork it over on a first date or does not have the balls to pick up the phone to call for a date. I would rather be an old maid living with cats (even though I am allergic) than settle for some of the pathetic bastards that I have crossed paths with…. Now that I got that off of my chest…moving on…
Speaking of Bastards….Jon Gosselin
What a disgrace that Jon Gosselin is. Who does he think he is prancing around France posing for the camera with his 22-year old girlfriend? And then professing his love for his new flame to People Magazine. Now, don’t get me wrong. I have seen the trainwreck of a show that is Jon & Kate Plus 8, and to be honest I think Kate is a controlling bitch. Nevertheless, she has done nothing to warrant the disrespect he has shown her and his rat pack of children. The balding, potbelly fool is clearly going through a mid-life crisis. If I was a judge, I would give the bastard limited visitation and force him to pay Kate thousands of dollars in alimony every month. I don’t care if she needs the money or not. She can at least use it to pay for a new hair stylist (Christ, what the hell do you call her hairdo?) He should no longer be allowed to earn a profit from that show. I hope his sons do not follow in their Daddy’s footsteps…Ok, I have said my piece.
Yes, I admit it. To the chagrin of the Feminist Majority, I am a loyal subscriber to Cosmopolitan Magazine. And let me just say that despite Cosmopolitan’s claims of having a female editorial staff, I swear men secretly write those articles. The underlying message is always “make the man happy” or “how can you better please the man.” I can just picture a dark, underground room with a bunch of unattractive, bald, overweight single men at computer screens typing away and making “mwhahahaha” sounds.
Wtf Cosmopolitan Magazine?
Eh, well sadly I am a sucker. Every month I anxiously await my next issue in the same fashion Democrats await the next Republican sex scandal. Even though I know most of the articles are complete bullshit, I cannot help but get drawn in by the promise of new tips and revolutionary insight into the modern single man’s mind. Yeah, it’s pathetic I know. Especially considering men are such simple creatures. I mean insight into what? You can make the average single man happy by simply putting him in front of a TV, with a bucket of wings in his lap, a Miller Lite in his left hand and the remote in his right. In the words of Porky Pig, “That’s all folks.” It’s not the riddle of the sphinx we’re dealing with here. Nevertheless, every month single ladies like myself flock to the newsstand hoping that this month “eureka” will strike and we will learn how to attract a “nice single guy.”
In the August issue of Cosmopolitan, there is an article that I just feel compelled comment on. It’s probably one of the stupidest articles I have ever read…in Cosmo that is. Does Cosmo think its’ audience is a bunch of fools?!?! In fact, I was so disgusted after reading this piece I even contemplated canceling my subscription. Of course I didn’t (hehe)…but nonetheless I did think about it for a legit 60 seconds. That gotta count for something, right?
The article is titled, “12 Sexy, Totally Free Dates” by Molly Triffin and can found on page 120. (I am giving you the page number so you can bypass the plethora of perfume and handbag advertisements.) Listen, I know times are tough. We are all looking to cut back. But, these dates are so lame and that no single man or woman (no matter how strapped for cash) would ever actually go through with one. I would love to confront Ms. Molly Triffin and ask her which planet she is living on and, most importantly, who the hell this idiot banged to get such a great gig at Cosmo. Anyway, so here are a few of the dates Ms. Triffin suggests for those financially challenged singles out there …
Date #1: Going to dinner with your guy usually means forking over a lot of dough…unless you feast on complimentary samples. Head to a grocery store that gives out nibblers (Costco, Trader Joe’s, Whole Foods). Then hit up a wine shop during a tasting night. For dessert, stop by an ice-cream parlor and ask to try a bunch of flavors.
Wtf? Just picture this for a second. Can you imagine how pathetic that would be…just think about. I hereby make a plea to my friends out there. Listen, if I ever date a guy who makes me beg for a sample of chicken cordon bleu at Costco then hauls me off to Coldstone to assault the teenager working the counter for free scoops of chocolate ice-cream…Please just shoot me! Really, I am giving you complete permission via this blog. Does Molly Triffin also want us to sing Kumbaya as we skip from Ikea table to Ikea table pleading for free samples? Give me a friggin break. If I am going on a date, I want a nice meal God damit. Sorry, but “nibblers” are not going to suffice most people’s appetite. And might I add, I take offense to her first statement “Going to dinner with your guy usually means forking over a lot of dough”….sweetie, did you read my Rule #3…Us ladies will not be forking over anything 
Date #2: Split appetizers at your favorite chain restaurant, and have them foot the bill. All you have to do is join their e-club.
Date #3: Don’t shell out to see a football game. Some pro teams let fans watch them during the preseason for free. Bonus: You can make out in the stands without being surrounded by drunk dudes.
Ok, first of all what professional football teams in this day and age actually let fans watch pre-season games for free? Christ, it costs $5 for a freaken bottle of water at most of these stadiums. Granted, I mean you probably couldn’t even pay fans to go watch a Detroit Lions or St. Louis Rams pre-season game, but otherwise competitive franchises sell their tickets for a pretty penny. Second, who really even wants to go to watch as teams pit their “all-star third-string” lines against each other. Do I really want to go see a bunch of guys I don’t know run around hitting each other and grabbing their crotch? If I am going to have to watch a football game, I want to see some Tom Brady action. Sorry, but Matt Gutierrez does not do it for me. Third, and no offense ladies, why would a man want to even go see a football game with a woman? For christ sake, very few of us actually understand the game. Why would he want to be barraged with questions? As smart as Ivy-League educated, Supreme Court Justice nominee Sonja Sotomajor is, I bet even she doesn’t understand the difference between a zone and a man-to-man defense. Hell I bet even the poetic genius Maya Angelou is thinking “A Rock, A River, A Tree, what the hell is a red flag penalty?”
Date #4: Want to have a night out with him—art, wine, cheese—and pay nada for the whole shebang? Go to a gallery opening.
Molly, you are killing me here. A gallery opening? Christ, if I cannot afford to go to Giant (Stop& Shop for you Bostonians) to buy a bottle of Yellowtail and a block of Cabot, then what on earth makes you think I have a designer little black dress in my closet and Jimmy Chu heels ready to hit the town. Not to mention all the primping that goes along with such an event. And let’s back track…why the hell after a long week of work would I want to schmooze with a bunch of phonies and pretend to be awestruck by artwork that resembles my pre-school finger paintings. I want a date to be fun. What are you going to suggest next…a quick jaunt over to the Holocaust Museum.
Welp, that’s all I have for this edition. Again, if you have any comments or know Molly Triffin’s cell phone number so I can prank her, feel free to contact me at Kristinablair8@gmail.com.
