Sex is a game for two. Sometimes three or more.

The letter request:

I’m looking for work and saw my dream job advertised but I noted applications had closed a few days earlier. I phoned the company and asked if they would accept a late application, explained my qualifications and gave a bit of history. They said they would like me to apply so I pulled an all-nighter and submitted the next day. Two hours later I received an email advising I had not been successful.


The letter:

Dear HR Manager,

Sex is a game for two. Sometimes three or more, sometimes one, but often two. When someone fakes an orgasm, it is generally for the benefit of the other person involved. There is no great enjoyment to be had from faking extreme pleasure; it’s just something one might occasionally do to make someone else feel better about their performance. Altruism, you might call it, for want of a better word.

Last week I applied for a job with your company. We spoke on the phone prior to my applying and you seemed enthused by my experience and credentials. You said, ‘Yes! Please Apply! Just make sure your application is in by 5pm tomorrow.’ I spent many hours writing, gave considered thought to each of your selection criteria, sought consult from friends, checked in with potential referees and finessed my resume. I spent a few hours daydreaming the logistics which in this case involved imagining myself resigning from my current role, imagining myself moving across the country to take up the position, imagining the impact on my relationship – you get the drift. I was quite excited.

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Pack away the hula-hoops and never mention them again

The letter request:

I supervise this guy at work and I really think he should date another of our co-workers, because she’s great and they have a lot in common. I know nothing about him really so I’m not sure how to broach it. Is it bordering on sexual harassment? Can I tell him I require it as part of his job?


The letter:

Dear Steve,

Team building. How does it make you feel? I know, I know, it can feel forced and naff and awkward BUT it can also be a cool way to learn some crazy arse skills you wouldn’t dream of learning otherwise. Like semaphore flag signalling, for example. Or hula hooping. Or writing a rap song.

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The only way is up

The letter request:

Donna, my best friend’s wife, always says something nasty/creepy/passive aggressive to me every time we socialise. Recently, at a friend’s party, she cornered me and started talking about golf – about going on vacation to play golf, about how cute her little girls are when the play golf, about how her little boys fight when they play golf… She has three subjects she talks about: doctor things (she’s a physician), at which time she uses really big terms so if you’re not a doctor you won’t understand what she’s talking about; golf, which bores me to tears; and her kids. So I came up with a plan (big mistake). I purchased a couple of books on cocktail party conversation, and a magazine subscription called Mental Floss, and suggested we meet to devise a plan where we could talk about things worldly and not about golf (did I mention I hate golf?) as a way to connect with each other on a more personal/friendly level. I sent her a text message. No response.


The letter:

Dear Donna,

So the other day I was reading an article in the New York Times that made me pause and think. It was about conversation and one particular sentiment leapt out at me: ‘In conversation, we are called upon to see things from another’s point of view.’

If this is indeed true, this is how I see your world after a conversation with you: You’re a committed medical practitioner who enjoys playing golf and adores her children more than life itself. True? Win!

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An extra fifty bums

The letter request:

My local hotel has no designated or obvious dance floor. They have far too many wall-mounted televisions playing sport, a smaller room with two pool tables and a juke box and one TV connected to that playing music video clips but no space to dance near the juke box. I would recommend they move their pool tables into the bigger room and create some floor space near the jukebox for dancing in the smaller room where they should also move their lounges. In the past, this place has been renowned for its great outside dance area, good bands and music. Keep the dream alive baby!


The letter:

To the Publican at the Spinifex Hotel,

You can’t deny that supermarket aisles are the true unsung heroes of the supermarket. People rave about variety and price but where would they be without those quiet and unassuming patches of linoleum between the shelves? Without aisles, how would they see the produce? How would they access their favourite box of muesli bars and their preferred brand of cheese?

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If it wasn’t hard, everyone would do it

The letter request:

I have been working as an artist for 18 years (theatre, writing, movement, performance, even (short) film) and yet, why do I feel like I am going nowhere? Or in fact, needing to go somewhere? Where is the place I am going? Does it exist? How can I make a living as an artist? I often feel lost.


The letter:

Dear Amaara,

Everyone has a story. In fact, everyone has multiple stories. Some stories play out in the real world and some play out in our minds. I don’t mean that as in, ‘In my mind, the universal acclaim of my art affords me a lifestyle where the word Centrelink has no meaning to me whatsoever, and I can travel the world and never have to worry about how I’m going to pay next month’s rent and, oh yeah, I’m married to Michael Fassbender and our sex life is OUT OF THIS WORLD and on top of that he totally loves making me tacos and doing the dishes and ironing my expensive frocks and, guess what, he knows all the right settings on the iron so the fabric never ever burns.’

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A spit and polish

The letter request:

The head of the school – a professor, they tell us – is an utter buffoon. Every now and then he sends out a group email to congratulate someone who has decided to jump ship. This is a reasonable thing to do. However, what drives me nuts, and also makes me feel sorry for him in a you-have-toilet-paper-poking-out-of-your-pants kind of way, is his tendency to use question marks at the end of rhetorical questions that pertain to his capacity to do something. Can you help me encourage him to consider the danger his question marks are putting him in?


The letter:

Dear Professor,

Do you know what an eroteme is? You probably do, being a professor and all. I have to admit that, until I looked it up just now, I did not. I don’t mind telling you that. The best way to improve oneself is to allow that we all have surfaces that could do with a spit and polish. Nobody’s perfect, right? We all have room to grow.

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Unreconstructed 70s male

The letter request:

Dave is an English dude who has lived in Portugal for six years, he’s divorced and is now around 50yrs old. He’s kinda stayed sexist in that old fashioned, women-belong-in-the-kitchen, hasn’t-realised-he’s-old-yet-and-still-perves-on-young-girls kinda way and I think he needs a kick in the arse to wake up and realise that the world is more progressive than the time warp he seems to be stuck in.


The letter:

Dear Dave,

Elvis is dead. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but it’s better you hear it from me than some complete stranger. Also, John Lennon is dead too. Double whammy. Take a moment to regroup, I can wait.

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Knock me down with a feather

The letter request:

Could you spell out to Qantas that if they are going to make me spend the whole day waiting outside the airport with a dog because a bird has suicided into their plane they should at least give me a free meal when they squish me onto a red-eye.


The letter:

Dear Qantas,

The idiom ‘You could have knocked me over with a feather’ means that when someone is shocked or in some way unstable, they are easy to knock over. The imperative part of this being that the issue arises before the feather but the feather is not the issue.

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Be cautious of free-roaming animals

The letter request:

I’m really glad that my friend has fallen in love and is moving to the side of the world but I just want to make sure her new beau realises that we’ve still got her back and we’re fierce over here


The letter:

Dear Max,

On behalf of Lucy’s homeland, I just want to tell you how excited we are that you and Lucy are about to build a life together. You are the luckiest man in the world because Lucy is an absolute catch. As I’m sure you already know she is gorgeous, super smart, fun, a true friend, a fabulous cook, always up for frivolity and an expert in all things Lego.

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Brave and smart

Dear Mel,

If we had super powers and could make stuff happen we would genetically engineer humans so that, when someone is emotionally available, their head lights up like a vacant taxi ready to drop you home. We’d then make it so, if they weren’t emotionally available, they’d glide by in the cover of darkness and you wouldn’t pay them a second glance. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice they were there at all.

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