Other men who were allegedly Derek’s friends would harass him if he went out with me, and in the cost-benefit analysis, they won. I mean, I had to hand it to Derek for explaining a mystical part of heteromasculinity that had heretofore been suspected but never, ever confirmed. Frankly, I’m sorry, but I just don’t have the balls to date you.”įrankly I just don’t have the balls to date you. “Listen,” he says, “you are my absolute ideal body type, okay? I mean absolute ideal, but if I dated you then my friends would never let me hear the end of it. He said something about being busy.Īnd then he leveled with me.
As each moment of hesitation passed, I felt more and more like a kid who just broke a vase and was awaiting punishment, vulnerable as hell. "If I dated you then my friends would never let me hear the end of it," he said. So, even though Derek had asked to see me multiple times in the first week and was clearly attracted to me, I did not push to see him in daylight outside my apartment because I was worried I would come off as too needy. Now take those rules and multiply them by somewhere between 10 and 1,000, and you’ve got the rules that many fat women face while navigating dating.
Even slender women know these horrible rules. You know the Three Ds? Don’t ask questions. This is another part of my fat girl dating story: Regular old generic misogyny says that straight women don’t get to be “too demanding” too soon. And by "hang out," I mean we spend time being sexy at my house. We hang out a second time, then a third time, all in the first week. He probably left my place at around 2 a.m. I’m ready for a man to sexualize my entire body, not just my breasts or thighs. He starts with caressing and then moves straight into what I would call worshipping it. By the end of the night he’s under my shirt, and surprisingly goes for my. I very quickly learn he’s an amazing kisser and his desire for me is undeniable. We meet up and our chemistry is ri- dic-u-lous. So Derek responds that he’s interested - very interested. I convinced myself that this was honesty. I would simply weed out the men who didn’t like fat women. But by that point I had had enough terrible first dates (and I mean terrible as in they excuse themselves to go to the bathroom and never reappear type of terrible) that I decided to take the harm reduction approach. Just putting it out there right away: “Yup, I’m a societal reject whose body is derided daily for others’ amusement, and if you’re not down with seeing me as an actual real human, well, then there’s the door.”īefore I started identifying myself up-front as fat in my dating profiles, I had spent hours, days, months pondering whether I wanted to be a party to upholding the worldview that the most important thing about me to a potential suitor is the size of my body. And more than that, it feels safe somehow. It feels scary, but good - really, really good. Derek responds to my ad in which I say I’m a BBW (Big Beautiful Woman) seeking someone who is “into that.”Ĭalling myself a BBW is new to me. Derek is my neighbor, though we met online. I am just starting to consider that after years of disordered eating, maybe my body is okay the way it is and I don’t need to spend every moment of my life trying to become smaller. I also currently have a body-positive partner who unapologetically adores me with a passion and humility that warms my heart every single day.īut in this story it’s around 2006, and I’m a new and wide-eyed transplant to San Francisco.
WOMEN DATE UP HOW TO
Nowadays, I’m a proud fat woman who teaches people how to love their bodies, writes books about it and has a podcast where I share with thousands of people the sounds of myself eating delicious things. His voice was deep and his pants rode low, sitting on his hips (hips I would soon know well, in the biblical sense).īefore we get any further into Derek’s pants, let me back up and give you some context. I want you to imagine Derek* (name changed to protect the guilty): tall with jet black hair and just a touch of shy swagger.
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