France is Calling, So I Am Going
Repellers, I am flying to the South of France tonight.
a. Your eyes are not playing a trick on you. I am not a quarterback nor do I swim like Michael Phelps. In fact, I’m puny, I may even have scoliosis. Those aren’t my natural shoulders. They are padded. Yes, shoulder padded. I bought this shirt when I lived in Paris last year. I was a bit reluctant to buy it at first, but then I put my leopard print
stuffed animal jacket over it and the definition those pads added to my jacket had my lady boner erecting full throttle.
b. I’ve worn these high waisted shorts from Calypso on several dates with several (read: two) men. You may be asking yourself why I chose to wear anything high waisted on a first date. Well, fella Repellas, I was under the impression that Calypso couldn’t dick-deflect if it tried. I was wrong and alas, my affinity for spermiciding continues.
Encounter #1: Man who might be gay: So, what are those shorts about? Me: What do you mean these are so cool. Man who might be gay: Cool? That’s what you think? Ok. I love buttsex. Me: Yes, that’s because you might be gay. (The second part didn’t happen in words, just telepathic thoughts.)
Encounter #2: Tall man with accent: “Everything about you is cute except for those stupid high waisted shorts.” Me: I love you, call me.
Naturally, there were no second dates.
c. I love the peacock behind me in the above photo because he is the only peaCOCK that doesn’t jump ship when we are in the same proximity. That may just be because he is made from glass, or because a window 26 stories high lives behind him.
d. My going away doesn’t mean a break from repelling as usual. I intend to update, so intend to check in. The Manrepelifesto is coming overseas with me!
Au-revoir hetero, homo, trans, and bi-sexuals. I love you like my own Alexander Wang Polina boots.
Contact: ManRepeller@gmail.com, Tweetertwatter: @ManRepeller