Mens Magazines

I subscribe to three men’s magazines: GQ, Esquire, and Best Life. Of the three, Esquire has the best writing, Best Life is the least lewd, and GQ has the most advertising.

I used expiring airline miles to subscribe to these and it might have been the best thing I have ever done. I have been so impressed by this airline program that I have begun to purchase flights that I do not need and have not intention of taking. I need my miles because want to be ready when my subscriptions are about to expire.

I have learned so much from these magazines. They have more helpful tips than the Yellow Pages (dialing is so 1999), the Internet (WebMD once told me to rub Rogaine over myself to treat a bad hang-nail), or the Bible. (Love you neighbor as yourself? Turn the other cheek? When do those things apply to anyone’s actual life?).

I learned what my watch says about me (I’m curious about time). I learned what my shoes say about me (I’m co-dependant on them to keep my feet warm). I learned what my hair says about me (that I have no hair).

With all my clothes saying all these things about me, I began to get a big head when all I really wanted to get was dressed.

But their wisdom is not only limited to clothing. They cover everything I cannot afford. I have learned that I cannot afford $1,395 for a watch. Nor can I pay $230,000 for a sports car. Even in my wildest dream I will never be able to pay for a trip to an exclusive Bahaman Resort that charges $2,000 a day.

Before these magazines I was under the impression that I would one day be King of, if not America, then at least a majority of the Midwest, but they put me in my place. They have opened me to an entire world of opulence that I didn’t even know existed. I was feeling good because I owned two cars! I mean come on, two cars! My wife and I can both drive at the same time. But thanks to GQ, I am enlightened. I know I’ve been living a two-car life in a three-car world.

For instance I can’t stand to look at my watch anymore. I don’t just see the time of day, or a gift from my wife. All I see is how it isn’t a $2,590.00 Cartier. This has thrown me into tension because Esquire said that a man should always wear a watch, but Best Life said that a cheap watch is worse than no watch. (Where’s my credit card?)

Nor can I any longer look at myself in the mirror. I read an article on exfoliating my skin and I did it wrong. My face is bright red. I look like an evil mime.

That’s all right because I wouldn’t go out anyway. I’m saving money to by a $7,000 handmade Italian suit. I’ll just stay inside in my bathrobe and wait for the mail to come, hoping that a new edition of one of my magazines will arrive and make my life just that much better.