(I was doing some cupboard painting for this very pretty full figured chick in my condo building. Halfway through, I came across a hand written book about some sizzling romance going between this same heavy chick and her very hunky boyfriend. The end result was that someone was trying to explain how they lost their precious virginity. Who says most guys don't want a little meat on their bones?)
"Love handles."
"And by that, Jocelyn, you mean?"
"You asked me what men love the most about my full figured body."
"That was over an hour ago."
"I'm a little slow without my morning coffee."
"Whatever, Jocelyn. Conversing with you is like being hit by a truck. I'm outta here! Besides, I can't afford to be late for work again."
"Honestly, Deb, you're the only woman on the planet I know that refers to volunteer assignments as work."
Debra didn't answer. She knew I was only trying to start an argument to keep her hanging around so I wouldn't be alone.
Instead, I watched as the tall freckled faced college grad turned abruptly and sauntered away from me, braving the busy street, narrowly avoiding whizzing cars by jumping back and forth over the dangerous lanes.
Suddenly I was all by myself again. "Damn," I whispered, knowing from here on in I would be unable to take my mind off of Raymond.
I suddenly thought about perhaps going shopping, but then I remembered that I had already been there and done that the last few times that solitude had given me the blues. With little more to show for my efforts than a wallet full of maxed out credit cards, there didn't seem to be any point in making the mall my destination of choice.
I sighed and languished over the mental image of Raymond's handsome face, now so illustriously front and center in my tortured mind.
"Shit, what do I do now?"
My well chosen words of wisdom were directed not only at myself, but also at the Gods, who had saddled me with two hundred and ten pounds of flesh over a five foot two frame. It wasn't that my body weight wasn't evenly distributed over that frame, it was merely that there was simply too much of me! Mind you, my face was amazingly pretty, and I had these spectacular emerald green eyes. When you added that to the silky curls of long gorgeous flaming red hair, what you came up with was one of the world's most beautiful women, but only from the neck up.
The problem for me was that guys rarely only focused from the neck up. Of a far more major concern for them was the size and shape of visible cleavage, and how miniscule a shapely waist was in concert with the curvy hips.
I had always pegged my ideal weight at one twenty and my maximum weight at one hundred forty, and yet, there I was, an embarrassing seventy pounds over my allowed maximum.
At first I supposed that guys might not want to date such overweight girls like me, and for a while, that seemed to be exactly what happened. No dates for me during the two years I had become bloated in size, and it wasn't for a lack of trying. So I began trying something different than bars and clubs. I began using dating sites, and at first, had no luck. But then suddenly, out of the blue, this tall, handsome, well-muscled guy named Raymond emails me saying he likes my profile and wants to know more about me.
So there I am, telling him more about myself, and also telling him that he must have misread the fine print, because I was definitely in the "a few extra pounds" category.
Then he shocks me by emailing me back to say he read the fine print just fine, and that he actually 'loves' full figured women, and jokes he won't date a thing unless it has a "good amount of meat on its bones."
I'm not sure if I should believe him, but then he emails me back again, only this time asking me out to a nice restaurant.
I meet him like he asks, and he is even better looking than his picture, a real stunner. He is absolutely gorgeous, well dressed, well mannered, and even has all his own teeth. Well, there's no sense looking a gift horse in the mouth, I figure, and so I let him kiss me quite a bit, and even invite him in for coffee, but not to try out my buns, if you get my meaning. Well, he seems a little saddened that I would invite him in for coffee and give him, well, only coffee, but I assume he'll get over it because I'm not that kind of girl. I tell him what kind of girl I am and it doesn't seem to stop him from calling me up a few days later and asking me out again.
That's when I pinch myself to see if I'm actually awake or dreaming cause this guy seems too good to be true. Well, my friend Debra instructs me to 'for heaven's sake have sex with him cause you don't want to take a chance some other woman with more than just coffee will invite him in.'
Well, my friend Debra's advice seems rock solid, just like the heavenly chiseled jaw that Raymond has. But I'm not one to take advice, and so I tell her in no uncertain terms that I am not that kind of girl, just throwing myself under a man's naked body the way some throw themselves under a bus. And so, she asks me what kind of girl I am, and I tell her that I'm the cautious kind. I explain that I'm a slow mover and she explains that some faster girl with a faster brain is going to give Raymond some real fast moves that are going to leave me behind in the dust.
I shrug at Debra's words, and go out on this second date, a hockey game at the gardens to watch the Rangers take on the Bruins. I had mentioned on our first date that I really liked hockey and so I figure that's why he took me there. Well, to make a long story short, we stop at a charming café later for some desert and coffee, and then he drops me off home. Well, I ask him if he'd like to come in for some coffee and he says we just had coffee at the café, but that if there was anything else I was offering, he'd be happy to step inside. Well, I nervously re-iterate that I only serve boyfriends coffee, and that's where he imparts the customary peck on my cheek with those heavenly lips of his, and then off he goes, into the night.
"He probably went off into the arms of another woman," was how Debra put it when I was telling her the story.
Anyways, a few days later, just like clockwork, Raymond calls me up a third time, and I'm like, 'wow,' here's a guy that likes me, all two hundred and ten pounds of me, even though I give him nothing but coffee.
"He's not going to keep talking to you forever if you keep talking to him with your clothes on," my friend Debra warns, as I tell her the story.
I shrug and continue on in my story, telling her how the third date was a round of bowling and then a movie I was just dying to see. It really impressed me how this guy was willing to sit through some mushy chick flick without so much as once trying out his octopus arms on me, and all would seem to be going well, until we got back to my place and he hinted strongly that it was time for me to take things to the next level. In fact, he used those very words, and I remember exactly what he said, like it was just yesterday. Actually it was just yesterday.
At any rate, he said, and I quote, "Jocelyn, we've been dating for almost three weeks now, as well as exchanging emails and phone calls. I like you, I really do. As a matter of fact I like you a lot. But I think we need to start talking about exclusivity."
Well, call me a dunce if you want to, but I had no idea of what the hell he meant by the word 'exclusivity.' Just my luck that my perfect and hunky man was also turning out to be brainy as well. I pretended I knew what he was talking about and just let him continue. I soon caught on.
He then said, and I quote again. "Whenever I look into those stunning emerald green eyes of yours, or kiss those sweetly sculpted cheeks, or allow my nose to tangle itself in your gorgeous flaming red hair and consume that fabulous perfume, I think of how wonderful it would be to hold you in my arms and make love, all night long, to the most beautiful woman in the world."
Well, he says all this with a flash of dazzling white teeth, and warm skilful hands caressing my bare yet ample shoulders and I'm just about ready to cave, when suddenly, I remember that I'm not that kind of girl, and I reluctantly tell him so.
And then he lays a bombshell on me. He would love to continue our dating relationship, but only now, make me his one and only girlfriend with a view to developing a long term relationship, but only, and he stresses the word 'only,' if I'm ready to take our relationship to the next level.
Well, I wasn't born in a barn on a farm and I didn't grow up in one either, so I was smart enough to know that what he was really talking about was getting down and dirty as the way to making me his one and only.
Well, my friend Debra, who, by the way, is just as overweight as I am, well, she just about blows a gasket when I tell her I turned him down, and left him standing all alone on that porch with the words, "I'll have to think about it," dangling in the warm summer air like pesky mosquitoes, willing to buzz but unwilling to land.
