It must be an experience common to all of us born as blokes with the wrong brain, to seize whatever fleeting chances we can to immerse ourselves in something feminine. I was reminded of one from my past yesterday by something that popped up in my feed reader at work, when I was much younger I always used to enjoy reading my sister's copy of Cosmopolitan. My peers laughed at me for this, but fortunately I had an "out", I was able to successfully demonstrate that Cosmo had far more top-shelf content in its pages than any of the behind-the-bike-shed publications they passed between them, the only difference being that it was written rather than pictorial. My rampantly heterosexual teenaged alpha male credentials salvaged, I continued to read about achieving the perfect female orgasm.
Yesterday's reminder came in the form of a text analysis of a year of Cosmo covers contrasted with a year of Maxim covers. The sentence "Nearly ever cover promises a story on sexual positions" made me laugh.
You can find the piece here: What Are the Messages of Cosmo and Maxim?.