Behind Closed Doors: Sex best played on individual terms
April 11, 2011
Claiming that you read Cosmopolitan Magazine for the beauty advice is like claiming that you go to Hooters for the wings. It’s all an elaborate sham to cover up your true sexual fiending. Cosmo exploits the “sex sells” mantra to its fullest. It publishes everything related to sex, from daily sex positions online to more “Better Sex Guides” than a person could read over an entire lifetime. But Cosmo’s rapport is flaccid at best. Its advice not only misses the mark, but also racks up a staggering number of innocent casualties.
When you mix two great passions in life, sex and food, the end result is dynamite. However, Cosmo somehow butchers the combination with advice that becomes ridiculous. Possibly the most disturbing advice I’ve ever come across: Cosmo’s Ultimate Guide to Sex suggests that women should, “Get fruity! A mashed banana or peaches inserted in your vagina is a delightful invitation for him to whoosh his penis around in it! Once you climax, switch to 69 position for sweet afters.” Really, Cosmo? I’m pretty open-minded, but a mashed banana? I don’t think many vaginas are very happy when they have to deal with fruit stuck inside them. And my limited anatomical knowledge simply cannot fathom how to clean out all those tiny crevices.
Maybe you prefer savory to sweet. Well, in that case, Cosmo recommends this little tidbit: “Sprinkle a little pepper under his nose right before he climaxes. Sneezing can feel similar to an orgasm and amplify the feel-good effects.” So, let me get this straight. Hide a pepper shaker under a pillow. Then, at climax, surprise-attack your partner with a sensation similar to the combined explosion of farting and sneezing. People talk, you know. You’ll be referred to as that freaky kid with the ground pepper fetish.
And when all food fails, Cosmo wants you to take sex into your own hands and fingers. Cosmo claims that fingering a male’s anus during sex will activate his prostate gland, producing an overwhelming orgasm. Sorry, Cosmo, I’m going to have to decline this one. Bottom line: I don’t mess with poop. No way, no how. I don’t care how overwhelming this orgasm might be; playing with poo-poo is a no-no for me.
Clearly, Cosmo has nothing to do with my sexual selection. Its tips range from flat-out wrong to downright torture. It’s like the Cosmo staff wants to produce the most unnatural, painful advice possible. I’m looking at you, columnist who wrote that yanking at your partner’s pubic hair is a thrilling turn on. As the legendary Avril Lavinge once said, “I’m thinking, ‘what the hell.’”
Hopefully, after you read Cosmo’s golden rules for sex, you’ve shared a chuckle, maybe a grimace here or there. Cosmo is utterly ridiculous, so just laugh it off. Instead of lamenting over the misleading information, poke fun at its over-the-top advice. Anyone up for a rousing game of sex position charades?
And really, let’s eliminate the belief that we should abide by a singular, ultimate guide to sex. Nobody can confidently say they know how to define “acceptable,” American-pie sex. Don’t take any outside opinion too
seriously. Certainly not Cosmo’s advice, but let’s get meta and talk about Behind Closed Doors’ sex advice.
Don’t believe and practice everything that you read, even in this column. Though I’m not subscribing to Cosmo any time soon, I would hate for you to feel pressured to believe my sexual beliefs. Just because I’m not a fan of feces does not mean you must follow suit.
Make your own sex guide that’s personalized to your preferences. If you get aroused by the texture of mashed bananas, then don’t let me stop you from your simultaneous grocery shopping and booty calling. If you live for the lethal combination of sneezing and climaxing, you’ve got my blessing. Find your own independence. Be a little selfish and do what feels pleasurable for you.
Thrust to the beat of your own squeaky bed. Try out some sex advice, but don’t get all heartbroken when your partner doesn’t like the Indian-rub-burn hand job. Feel free to experiment on your own terms, without Cosmo breathing down your bare, sensually oiled back.