Life Changingly Awesome Query Letters Part 3: Cosmopolitan Magazine

Introductory Apology: Last week was the nation's bday, and a holiday week for me from the stress and grind of sitting in front of my computer sans pants. So apologies on the lapse. If it makes you feel any better, America liked most of its presents.

To: Kate White,
Editor in Chief
Cosmopolitan Magazine

From: Kevin Alexander

Dear Ms. White,

Heyyyy Girl!!:) Kate, can I totally confess something? I’ve been Cosmo Crazy on and off since I was 13, mostly depending on my older sister’s diligence in renewing her subscription. And although not as sexually explicit as Redbook--the full figured women's mag of the 90s--you did and continue to answer many questions I hadn't even thought of about sex positions every Cosmo Girl should know and abdominal moves needed to get a bikini bod for summer. But telling you I'm Cosmolicious isn't the only point of my letter. It is the main point, of course, so I kind of regret putting it in the lede. But it does lead (LOL!) me nicely to a boxer-brief story:

While spending several days at my mother's house commenting on Elizabeth Hasselbeck’s outfit choices on a View blog I edit frequent (enough with the babydoll tops, Lizzie!), I came across a piece of information. Apparently the dude who was writing your "Ask A Guy" column is leaving. Or left. Or maybe he wrote for Glamour. Honestly, I can't remember. But either way, I want to take this opportunity to avail myself for the allegedly vacated position. Here's why: I am a guy. And I tell it like it is. Sometimes, I even tell it like it isn’t, but should be, which is probably refreshing. And believe you me, Katy, I have qualifications: I’ve owned a semi-cute cat, I like romantic comedies starring either Taye Diggs, Vin Diesel or Josh Hartnett, I use face lotion, I like to dance like no one’s watching even when people are watching and kind of embarrassed, I own more than one pair of distressed status jeans, and, finally, I've had two separate dreams where I thought I was Drew Barrymore. Now if that doesn't shout CosmoGuy, well, I dunno. I guess it's probably not a good thing for me.

But Katie, despite my Cosmolifications, I realize that you probably can’t just hire me sight unseen to write this column. First you need to know if I can handle the position and write in a girl-friendly way while giving your readership “straight talk” about how guyz “really” think. I get it. You need to proverbially taste the proverbial cocaine before serving it to your guests at your proverbial orgiastic “key” party. And because I understand ladies, Kathy, that’s totally fab with me. Relatedly, I just read on Wikipedia that ladies love poetry. So in that spirit, here’s a sample of what you would get if you bring me on, in the form of a poem I wrote for an ex-girlfriend in college after she dumped me and I mutually separated. This poem is entitled "You Know Who You Are, And If You Don't, I'm Talking About You, Kate Boardman" and although I haven't got official notification, it'll probably be published in the Kenyon Review sometime later this Fall:

You Know Who You Are, And If You Don't, I'm Talking About You, Kate Boardman
(words by Kevin Alexander)

Darkness. Your Soul is
Dark Since
You Won’t Return
My Call(s).
Did You Change
Your Num-
Ber Again? Not
Cool

Wow, I just got goose bumps. And if you can believe it, Kathryn--I wasn't even an English major!!! I know. I guess it's genetic. Anyway, my time at this Internet Cafe is drawing to a close. I'm going to be on vacay in a few weeks, but you can email my friend Casey (it's BigCatMeow@hotmail.com) when you decide on a salary and he'll spread the good word. I look forward to our continued work relationship and good personal friendship. And if you need any more poems, don't worry: the well is nowhere near close to dry, Kit Kat.

Cosmo' Money, Mo' problems,

Kevin Alexander
Future Cosmolumnist

PS- Pictured Below: Drew Barrymore minutes before she was told she didn't get the role in Million Dollar Baby and the only poets in the US that can hold a candle to yours truly.