Wondering if I have ever seen a man looking through a magazine any other time than in a doctor’s office, I lay the ‘Men’s Journal’ on top of the stack of mail, bringing it inside for the traditional sort-and-shred. Normally I would have used it as a sling for the rest of the bills and junk mail, but the guy on the cover was too engaging to smother. Must be Honey’s.
True enough, it’s addressed to my man – the cover promising sexual secrets and photos of smiling athletes. Surely, this publication was made for women…
The heap of incoming lies on the entryway table, handsome hunk gazing my way… tempting me…
Let’s just take a peek; I mean, it’s not sealed; Post Office spies could never prove that I opened another citizen’s mail. Still, I pause.
My little shoulder demon snaps to attention: “Oh, go on. You know you’re going to. Why wait? You’re all alone here, nobody watching… o p e n it.”
Okay! Okay!
I reheat a cup of coffee to postpone my looming crime, hoping to avoid being called a wus by my on-looking conscience. I’m aware of the little white pixie on the other side, trying to reach over my head to get in a good bash with that wand thingy, aiming at my bad deed devil.
How ‘bout I just thumb through it? Couldn’t hurt - right? Here goes…
Yep, it’s all about how to look like a god. Vitamins and drink powders, cars and cycles, hair cuts of the stars and sunglasses sandwiched between lots of young, muscular, almost naked men with perfect skin, looking into my eyes - knowing me.
Yum.
My guilty conscious envisions a camera chip on the page sending my image back to Federal headquarters to ascertain if I’m man enough to be opening this issue.
But there’s something else… something on the edge of my mind that says “Whoa, there kitten; do that again.”
Obediently, I flip through the pages a second time.
Then a third, this time with my eyes closed.
I open my eyes, repeat the scan, and realize there are no less than three cologne sample pages. That’s as much or more than the average girl’s magazine!
I close my eyes again and repeat, breathing deeply. Multiple clean, 
Wow! I open my eyes and vow to blog this one.
I still wonder if men actually READ them, but now I realize this magazine is probably very clever fore play; leave an issue of ‘Men’s Journal’ on the coffee table while you go get the cheese tray, guys. Your date will be well primed upon your return.
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