The Ole' Guys Vs. Girls Argument

So I'm standing in line at the supermarket yesterday to purchase a measly box of couscous, when my eye happened to settle on this. 

And as a fully red-blooded female, of course I bought it.  Why?  LOOK at all of the sexiness that is Ryan Reynolds.  That grimace/smirk he's giving the camera screams that he is the kind of hot that would melt metal.  (Lord/My Husband forgive me.  I'm sure if there was a picture of his wife, ScarJo, floating around, he would be ogling it too.  My husband, that is.  Not the Lord.  The Lord is far too holy to ogle.)

However, after I stared at the photos for what I ashamedly admit was far too long, I found myself flipping through the magazine, and before I knew what had hit me, I had spent about an hour actually READING the articles in a magazine whose target audience are those of the penile variety. 

Now, I've read almost every female-targeted magazine out there.  Cosmo, Glamour, Marie Claire, Lucky, Ladies Home Journal, Redbook, Family Circle, Allure, Elle, Vogue, W, and even the Oprah magazine, and what I'm about to admit is so shameful that I might have my girl card revoked forever. 

In terms of quality and entertainment value, the articles in GQ FAR surpassed any other article I have ever read in a typical "girlie" magazine. The shame!  It burns! 

The articles were devestatingly fantastic.   One article delves into the identity, capture, and conviction of a suicide chat room stalker who befriended members only to encourage them to do the deed and even went so far as to request they commit suicide over a webcam. 

Another details the possibilities that water-god-worshipping (if you don't know the story, you should) Libertarian Rand Paul might become a senator. While another discusses this year's great American novels. 

A more superficial article detailed the locations of the 25 best bars in America that serve up sinfully delicious cocktails.  The pictures had me lusting after a bar with not only ambiance but a mean Manhatten.

The magazine, to say the least, left me incredibly satisfied in every possible facet. 

Any constant reader of magazines such as Cosmo, Glamour, Marie Claire, etc... will tell you that after reading faithfully for at least a year, you will come to realize that certain articles are simply re-packaged in some shiny new wrapping, but that they are, in essence, the same articles you read six months ago.  There are only so many times you can learn "New Ways to Please Your Man!" or how to "Get Sexy in 30 Days!" or view the "Hottest Looks for Spring!"  For those of you who frequent such magazines, you know precisely what I'm talking about. 

So when I picked up this male magazine yesterday and found myself completey engrossed, I admit that I was shocked and simultaneously disturbed.  Did this mean that I was less of a woman?  Did this mean that because of my enjoyment, I was disowning everything that has defined female-dom for the past twenty years?  Did this mean that I was some kind of freak, some female anomaly who didn't know or understand what it meant to be woman and hear me roar? 

I still can't answer these questions.  But I can say, that if the checkout girl DARES to dart a strange glance my way when I purchase next month's GQ, I'll quell my urge to slap her and merely smile as I swipe my debit card.