Men aren't called 'Beautiful' very often -- handsome or virile maybe, even studs -- but this is a story about the man's side of the BBW equation. The side that shows a large man can be treated and avoided as often as a large lady. You might say that it's okay to be here, if I don't have to date you. So I call it the story of a Big Beautiful Man, a BBM.
I needed a job. I was a working woman in a man's world, or I wanted to be. I'd been out of work for more than six months and was running short in my bank account. I'm a hard worker and a minor computer geek and know some of the standard PC applications like Word, Excel and Access. But, doesn't everyone? My last job was lost during downsizing and you know the current economy.
I'd been out everyday, beating the bushes, checking every Internet job search site I could locate and had gone to the classified ads in the newspaper. It was near the end of the day and I was tired and frustrated. The last guy I'd called had left it with "... don't call us, we'll call you." Right! And I'll win the lottery tonight.
I sat in the car, about ready to head home, when a small ad in the paper caught my eye. I'm not a domestic, but my place is clean, and this was a small ad placed by a single guy, living alone, looking for someone to do part-time domestic work like cleaning, dish-washing, clothes-washing, and other regular stuff. The pay was good for two to three days of part-time work, and it would leave me free to pursue other job opportunities. It couldn't hurt to call, so I did.
I got an answering machine asking the caller to phone back after six. It was already after five-thirty, and the voice was nice, so I headed home and planned to call back when I got there.
At about five after six I called again. This time he answered the phone. I explained why I was calling and he sounded interested. He asked me a few careful questions and explained more exactly what he expected. I verified the salary and he asked when we could talk more. I made an appointment for six-thirty the following evening and wondered what he looked like. He sounded educated, polite, soft-spoken and interesting.
When I got there the next evening I was rather shocked. The apartment was a kitchen, living room, bathroom, and one bedroom. It was already clean and neat because he told me that he'd cleaned up a little after we'd talked last night. I could handle the work easily and with the salary it would help out my financial plight. He also had all the machinery I'd need to help in cleaning.
My shock came when I saw the guy. He was six foot tall, not bad looking, had a small mustache and Fu-Manchu, and long brown hair and he was indeed very polite. The surprise was the guy must have weighed over four hundred pounds -- he was a very large man. His size made him walk kind of funny, but he was nimble. All of his furniture was oversized, too.
I'd worn a conservative outfit, skirt and blouse suitable for an interview, and he was dressed in white shirt, tie, and slacks. He asked me to sit at the table and then went through my references. I was only slightly uncomfortable because of his size, but he soon had me relaxed, and the interview went well. However, because of his size I wasn't sure now that I wanted the job and asked for time to think it over if he was interested. He said that he was interested and made me the offer and then he gave me his business card and asked me to call with my decision.
I wasn't really planning to do more than call him the next day and turn him down, but that morning I got a call from my bank. It's a good bank, but they told me that they'd just cleared the check for my rent. They also said that I had about eight dollars left in the account and that I would be receiving a service charge from the low maintained balance.
Well it was hard times, so I called the guy and accepted the job. After he'd thanked me for calling back and for accepting, he told me where to find the key for his apartment.
I went over just past noon and found the key right where he'd told me. I left the door open until I'd checked the entire apartment and made sure I was alone, and then closed it and went to work. I started with the dishes, not many of them because he apparently ate out most of the time. When I opened the refrigerator, it was nearly empty, but I discarded some sour milk and a plastic bag full of green and squishy stuff that might have been lettuce in an earlier incarnation. I also removed some small bowls that contained things that had dried or molded in place. I emptied and washed the bowls.
Next, I straightened the living room, discarded old junk mail and some old newspapers and then vacuumed. Finally, I moved on to the bathroom and bedroom. I washed the tub and shower even though they really weren't dirty and I put a few things away. I changed the towels and then pulled the sheets from the bed and changed them. I picked things up and straightened things out and then I got clothes from the hamper and went down to the apartment complex's laundry room. I used my own money to wash and dry the stuff and went back upstairs.
While I folded and put things away, I noticed several pair of his briefs. Because I was curious, I wrapped one of them around me, and it almost made four complete trips. I'm only five foot two and weigh about a hundred and fifty, so I'm no small girl, but this guy was huge. I finished cleaning and left.
About six-thirty my phone rang and it was him, again. He thanked me for everything I'd done and noticed that I'd washed and dried clothes. He said he would leave some money on the kitchen table to reimburse me. What a kind man I thought, to call me, thank me, and reimburse me.
