The choice: vaginas or dicks? I chose the latter. Last night, I skipped The Vagina Festival cocktail party to attend the 2008 Cosmopolitan Bachelors debutante ball at Mansion NYC. Married women who get scribbled on guest lists usually have their spouses automatically added, too. “Are you guys coming to the party?” “We have to see if we’re free.” When you’re single, your name gets added by itself. One line: Hines, Twanna. Because I decided to go to the event at the last minute, I didn’t know which one of my friends was free for the evening and I wasn’t sure if I could get them on the guest list anyway. So, I could either go to the party alone or not go at all. I went. I wasn’t gonna miss that.

I must say, I was charmed by the Cosmo boys more than I thought I would be. Seriously, they were so cute on the red carpet while clad in stylish dark jeans and tight black shirts hugging their hard bodies with the word “Cosmopolitan” and the name of their state printed in white letters on the front. In unison, they chanted in manly deep voices: “Come on guys, this is our night!!!” They smelled like testestorone, condoms and bubble gum. I felt like I was at the Hard Hotties Debutante Ball. Guys with dashing smiles flanked by perfectly straight white teeth possibly secretly wondering WHICH one of them was gonna be the winner. It was cute!!!! I probably would’ve stayed much longer if I actually knew people at the party. I can hold my own and strike up a conversation with anyone at mixer / networking / social events. The Cosmo Bachelors party was attended by several small groups of 5 - 7 stilettoed women chatting closely into each other’s lips; I felt like I was crashing 101 simutanious girls’ nights out. So, I left early after chit-chatting with only a couple people.

On my way home, I thought about the whole “single people at parties” vs. “coupled people at parties.” Life Lesson #175,375: It’s easier to attend some parties with someone else than it is to attend alone. So, I’ve decided to make up a name: Alex Hobbs. Everytime someone tells me they’re putting me on a guest list, I’ll ask them to automatically add that name, too. That way, if I decide to drag someone along at the last minute — current date, fuck buddy, friend, next love of my life, whoever — I know they can say that name at the door and get in with me. Ah, singlehood. On a different note, on my way home last night, I saw this written on the wall/ceiling of the 28th Street entrance to the subway station at Madison Square Park. Nice, huh?

Question of the day for single people (and people who used to be single): Would you go to a party alone?

Technorati Tags: Chris Whipple, Christopher Stewart, Cosmopolitan bachelors, Cosmopolitan magazine, Jared Cotter, Lamar Ruxlow, Mat Vance, Michael Hooper, Shane DuBay, Steven Goodson, Zo Goodson

Okay, so, my little Nikita spy at Cosmopolitan magazine tipped me off that the annual Cosmo bachelors contest launches today. Same deal as last year, I think. Go to the site. Drool over the photos. Vote. I already peeked, and I can tell you this: The. Guys. All. Look. Alike. Watch the parade of fresh-faced, hairless/waxed/shaven-chested, “All-American” Ken dolls in brown and peach versions — including two dudes from Michigan. Heeeey, why the hell is the Wolverine State so fucking special???  ;)

VIDEO: http://www.etonline.com/news/2008/10/66212/

Where’d they find these guys? Abercrombie & Fitch?!?!?! Cosmo seems to have a type. Hmmm … On a related note, the “doesn’t everyone have a type?” conversation came up Saturday night during my trip to DC to see Mags and catch the NKOTB reunion tour. (Don’t ask.) Bro, Mags, a blogger named Match [NSFW] and I eventually ended up at Chi Cha Lounge. Around 1am, I spotted this GORGEOUS man with short thick black hair, charcoal eyelashes, big brown eyes and a dark olive-complexion. Only a couple feet away from me and dressed in a nice suit, he danced his ass off to Elvis Crespo’s Suavemente. SEXY!!! I totally fucking swooned. “See that guy?” I told Match. “I think he’s hot.”

I swear I date the same guy — just dipped in different coats of paint. Sometimes they’re peach. Sometimes they’re dark brown. Sometimes they’re dulce de leche. But, it’s basically the same dude. Identical features. Works in finance. Usually foreign. Alpha male. Needless to say — and as evidenced by my sometimes vomitworthy NYC dating life — my “type” isn’t necessarily working out for me. “You say you think the New York dating scene is like a playground,” relationships coach Keith Dent recently told me at Starbucks the other day after I mentioned I’m repeating the same patterns in my dating life. “But, if you’re playing in the same playground, you’re only going to encounter the same players, right?” I agree. I know I need to mingle in different circles and meet a wider variety of guys. Tons of Manhattan dudes neither work in media nor finance. I wanna meet them. You know, I totally had a point in the blog post. But, I’m not sure if I remember what it was and/or if I ever made it. Long story short? Saw the Cosmo dudes. Thought they all look a little Abercrotchieish — a look I don’t usually go for, by the way. And, it made me come back to that “Does Everyone Have a Type?” question. I certainly do. What say you?

—————

NOTE: By the way, speaking of “Abercrotchie” … The dude representing my home state, Illinois, is Kyle Rudduck (pictured, photo credit: image is online at Cosmo). I can’t be sure it’s the same guy, but a Chicagoan named Kyle Rudduck on Facebook and LinkedIn { UPDATE: See the comments section; it’s the same guy. He just friended me on Facebook. } says he was an auditing intern at … drum roll, please … Abercrombie & Fitch. Coincidence? Hmmm …

Technorati Tags: 2008 Cosmo Bachelors, Bachelor of the Year, bachelors, Cosmo, Cosmopolitan, Cosmopolitan magazine, funky brown chick, funkybrownchick, hottest bachelors, Kyle Rudduck, November issue, single men, Twanna, Twanna A. Hines, Twanna Hines

I’ve been all up in Cosmo’s business lately. One of my favorite little birdies at the magazine chirped into my ear, and I now know they wanna help a fun, fearless, female singer/songwriter launch her career in the music industry. I’m not sure if they’re promising fame or fortune, but I looked at the contest video thingy on YouTube and it looks like it’s fairly easy to enter. I know a bunch of my readers are guys. But, I’m wondering if I’ve got any female songstresses out there in the crowd?? If so, you should enter their contest. Why? Because I wanna be able to say, “Heeeey, one of my readers TOOOOOTALLY won that contest. I knew her waaaaay back when she used to read Funky Brown Chick.” :)  I can’t promise you’ll win. I have just as much influence in what happens at Cosmo as I have in deciding what John McCain or Barack Obama will eat for dinner tomorrow. That said, if you enter the contest and lose, I’ll give you a virtual pat on the back for trying. If you win, can I go to your concert and meet Solange Knowles??? Come on. Give it a shot. I want you to be famous. Here’s the link: http://www.youtube.com/cosmostarlaunch

Technorati Tags: Cosmopolitan magazine, Cosmopolitan StarLaunch

[ADVISORY: DON'T EAT WHILE READING THIS.]

“Ewwwww!” I practically scream as my throat closes and gag reflex kicks in. “I’m sooo not a fan of having sex when I’m on my period,” I tell Desiree [NSFW] during yesterday’s brunch in Fort Greene. She disagrees. Like many women and men, she’s okay with “sex on red day.” Me? Let a man enter my slippery red canal and — possibly, if the guy so desires — go oral for a few drops of the thirsty red liquid? My eyes water at the thought. “I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit,” I tell her. I whimper and pick up my glass, quickly dousing my throat with fluid to clear the taste of vomit. Desiree smiles.

To be fair, I should explain that I’ve had sex on my period before. Once, I think. It was in Chicago. A male friend that I’ll call “Dude” and I were out drinking and partying. At the end of the night, we went back to my place and took off our clothes. Tired and tipsy, I forgot I was clearing the final day of my period. (It was almost over, but not quite.) As Dude went down on me, he quickly squished up his face, used his fingers to wipe his tongue and cried out in disgust: “¡ay Dios mío! The taste!! YUCK!!! The taaaaaste!!!!” That was the first — and, needless to say, LAST — time I attempted to have crimson sex.

Of course, I know the benefits of canoing the red river: hormones rage, horny level goes up and the risk of pregnancy goes down. And, not to mention, dancing the horizontal Tango reduces cramps. Yeah, yeah, yeah whatever. I’m still not a fan. Sex is best when I feel sexy. I don’t really feel desirable or turned on when I’m bloated, messy, carrying an extra 5 pounds of water weight and flowing like the Mississippi. But, hey, don’t agree with me. You’re feel free to have your own thoughts. So, what say you? Sex & blood — “I love that sh*t” or “that’s f*cking disgusting”?

Related links:
Does menstruation affect my sex drive? (Cosmo)
How should I have sex during my period? (Cosmo)
Have Great Sex While She’s Menstruating (Askmen.com)
Period Sex: A ‘Do’ Or A ‘Don’t'? (Jezebel)
Sex with period and tampon? (Go Ask Alice!)

Photo credit:
Image is from Nicolas Raymond. Montreal, Canada.

NOTE: Check out Desiree’s “pro-period sex” post. [NSFW]

Technorati Tags: Cosmopolitan magazine, menstrual cycle, menstruation, period, red day, sex, Twanna