Now, the "The Pillars of Hercules" would be a sex move, ending up with four weeks of
physical therapy and six weeks of emotional therapy.
At first, The Cosmopolitan was a family magazine, which, back in the day, meant it was mostly for dudes, with a small section for women featuring articles such as "How to Shut Up and Listen to Men" and "Seriously, Shouldn't You Be Cooking Right Now?" Eventually, it morphed into a literary magazine, publishing stories by the likes of Rudyard Kipling and H.G. Wells, none of which involved very useful blow job advice.
"69 Orgasmic Positions You Must Try Before the Martians Drain
Your Blood and Throw Your Corpse Into the Flames."
The Cosmopolitan continued enjoying moderate success among family-minded conservatives well into the 20th century, when changing times and a lack of innovation finally forced the magazine to start looking for ways to shake things up. For better or worse, they found their new niche when the reins were handed over to editor Helen Gurley Brown in the '60s, who abandoned the white picket fences and posh literature to shift the magazine's primary focus to drastically overthinking how we fuck each other.