Shoeboobies

Now you know, and I know, Cosmo gets guys.

So when they say they can ‘plant me in the path of dozens of quality cuties’, then hells, I adopt the brace position and prepare for the man-pede.

But when my eager eyes drift from the article’s tagline to the full-page photo opposite, I begin to wonder…

*NOT ACTUAL PICTURE FROM MAGAZINE! JUST A DRAWING!*

The three shirtless men-folk flexing their muscley bits are plenty purdy, with nein a hair on their sculpted torsos (and I looked so hard I crinkled the paper with my breath).

Note to Cosmo: I’ve already met plenty of these guys. We sing Kylie together, and discuss the merits of being a Top VS a Bottom while quaffing Appletinis.

And for the love of Ryan Seacrest, if you want me to put my lack-lustre lovelife in your capable hands, puh-lease, nix the men’s skinny white jeans. I like a man I can spill on (without risk of being biatch-slapped by his boy bangles).