15 August 2010

When a Man Repeller tries to Propel

I have recently developed a little crush on a fellow that we will, for his sake and mine, call Clive.

crush face

After no movement from his side I decided to take the matter into my own peen-deflecting hands.

This is risky for a number of reasons - namely, I repel men, so chances of success are slim.

With this reason in mind, I speculated one thing:

Can a repeller become a propeller?

To this, Anna Lou replied "A leopard print one-sie will never be Guess hotpants, and you my dear are the one-sie".

Working in the service industry, the only encounters I have with Clive are from the other side of a big counter (not likely to change any time soon).

Even though I have come to terms with my Man-Repelling, it doesn't ease the anxiety that comes from putting oneself 'out there'.

When I asked the one excrutiating question to Camden*; "what if I'm rejected?" I felt infinitely better.

Camden: "Who gives a fat fuck? Six billion other people in the world."


Keeping these sentiments close, I decided to step out of my comfort zone and attempt the impossible.

Creativity always scores high in my books - so I wanted to go about this in some sort of innovative, never-before-seen way.

I reached out to a number of friends, who helped me to create a masterful and extraordinary plan.

Together, we came up with a number of ways to convey to him my interest.

Re-enacted below are my favourite options, should you wish to try them out yourself. Do let me know if you do - we can see which is most effective! (It'll be fun!)

one. Give him a random item as a token of my interest - such as a spoon or an avocado.

two. Write him a note with appropriate message, fold into paper plane and fly at his head, then run away.

three. Write him a note, employ skilled origami maker to create work of art with note, then deliver via post to his work.

four. Draw him a picture and deliver to him.

And my favourite of them all, with thanks to my friend Will:

::::Drum Roll:::::

five. Write a song and employ a selection of friends to perform it. Whilst performing, friends will reveal their stomachs to show him a single digit of my phone number. Song lyrics suggested include: "Clive, Clive He's our man, did you know I'm your biggest fan!"

Will's idea left me overcome with fear enjoyment, however I decided something less extravagent may be more fitting.

I couldn't dispel an image of myself throwing the note in a frenzied fit at the poor fellow, then running out the doors, arms flailing, sobbing hysterically.

In the end I took the least fear-enducing route; because I'm a pussy.

[See below the note].

Folded into a $10, I handed over my note, then ran away, arms flailing, sobbing hysterically disappeared mysteriously into the crowd

At the end of it all, having heard not a single peep from our note receiver, I have at least achieved success in a few notable areas:

one. I have successfully fucked up my chances of enjoying the location Clive works at, forever**.

two. I have successfully illustrated what NOT to do.

three. I have successfully convinced Clive that I am a freak.

*More to come on Camden
** Okay, maybe not forever. Definately for at least an entire week.


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. Hahahhaa Rachel!!! You make me want to write a novel! But I'll just keep reading the blog because these aren't my great ideas but your reality :P

  3. Fuck Clive. Come to Melbourne and pursue me instead.

    Besides - I heard a rumour that he's gay.

  4. I am positive there will be an answer given at some point. With such illustrative talent (of your house) he will def find his way. Plus you DID leave a 4 dollar tip with the note.

  5. yeah, was hoping that, should the note not be convincing enough, maybe throwing some cash at him would tip the scales.

    Now that I've slept on it, it probably made me look even more like a looney.

    gee i could really do with that four dollars.

  6. i see your art has improved ;)

  7. why thank you. It was a moment of pride when i looked at the finished result.