Cosmo has a (seemingly new) advice column on its website called "Ask Him Anything", and though it may come as a shock to some, we kind of expected better from the ingenious magazine that brought us the cover line "Dirty Sexy Sex". But that's okay, because we were feeling service-y today and decided to re-answer some questions ourselves, starting with Should I Say Something About My Fears?:
The guy I'm seeing is incredibly well-endowed. I'm really nervous about sleeping with him; I'm afraid it will hurt. Should I say something about my fears?
Um, my first inclination is that if you tell this dude you are afraid of his dick you are going to be reenacting that scenario "Ohhhh I'm so scared your massive portion of manmeat is gonna hurty wurty my tight little child-gina" six months from now. But wait a second, how big is it that you have seen it, and yet have not put it inside you? My guess is if you have gotten naked with him and haven't, you know, done anything with his "member" and he hasn't acted like this was, like, weird at all, he knows what you're thinking and will be gentle. So drinking-game those nerves away and get fucking. Keep lube at the ready, but if you need it to get started, you're just not that into him. Which is just the thing: you're wasting time by worrying about this problem now. Down the road, if he's as big as you say, you'll have to deal with the fact that you both hate using condoms and that to blow him defies the Geneva Convention. So you'd better make some happy amorous memories while the relationship is still young and wet.
I met this boy at a party, and he seemed to be into me. He asked if he could give me his number and handed me his business card! What's up with that?
Uh, what's up with this question? You asked for his number, he gave you his business card. That way, you get his number, his email, his place of work, his title...it's like, hey lady! I'm giving you my business card because I want you to know how to stalk me! Not because I want to be stalked, but because after only a few minutes of talking to you, I not only trust that you're not a stalker, but am sufficiently interested to let you know what more about myself you can find out by me giving you this card. Look at it. Is it thin and maybe perforated and does it say I'm a "partner" or "managing director" in some company you've never heard of? Then I want you to know I'm a little eccentric and entrepreneurial and maybe work odd hours and wake up every day scared shitless of failure but hey, that's who I am and I'd be remiss not to share that with you. Is it heavy and embossed and does it read "Goldman Sachs"? Then I'm pretty fucking impressed with myself to a degree superseded only by the degree to which I want others to envy me, and that includes you, but hey at least I'm being honest about it. Is it purple or plastic and listing of a vague title like "brand heat operative"? Then I'm one of those guys who is going to talk about music and go to events a lot. Either way, I'm giving you my card with only one screening mechanism in mind: that you're not one of those girls I meet at a party who gets all pissy because I don't want to scramble while she adds my name to her phone. Dude, it's a party. What do you want my name occupying valuable flash memory in your phone for if you're looking for a lawyer when I'm an IT manager?
A few weeks ago, I got really drunk with my best male friend. He confessed that he was attracted to me, and we ended up having sex. Now he is claiming that he was wasted and doesn't remember what he said, and he's been avoiding me. I just want things to go back to normal. What do you think I should do?
Ugh, I hate this. For one thing, he is lying, because when a person truly doesn't remember what happened when he was drunk and fucked his "best friend", he doesn't go and avoid the best friend because he doesn't know there is any reason to avoid her. Of course, that's another good reason God invented the "I don't remember anything I was drunk" excuse; so that people can go about their relationships like normal without having to submit to romantic comedy-perpetuated cultural mores such as "Sleeping with a good friend while drunk probably means there are unresolved feelings of True Love between me and good friend that would be scary to confront." But lying to you about not remembering and avoiding you simultaneously means the worst thing: he expects that you have succumbed to said romantic comedy cultural norms and that you, against all rational logic, feel there must be unresolved feelings of True Love between yourself and Mr. "I Can't Remember Why I'm Avoiding You." What a little jerk. Why are you friends with him anyway? Nevermind. Pretend you don't remember.
My boyfriend just bought a PSP. Now it seems like he's dating his video games instead of me! Should I try to join in on his new hobby or tell him how I'm feeling?
Do you like video games? The curmudgeon in me says, fuck video games, go read Economist instead. But the self-loather in me thinks of this one time when I read the Economist and it said that women performed better in certain diagnostic testing after they played video games. I dunno. And meanwhile the hater in me thinks, wow, "he likes video games more than me" is probably the most pathetic statement I've heard in my life. Go buy yourself a new toy before you begin to project such intense self-pity it actually comes true.