The Man Who Loved Himself and Hated Fat Chicks

After about a week or so of emailing Curt (don’t judge, it’s the first name that came to mind), I gave him my number and made plans to talk on phone on Thursday. Wednesday night I received an unexpected phone call saying he only had a minute because he had friends over, but wanted to say hi. Oh, how sweet – right? Hold that thought. So Thursday rolls around and we end up talking on the phone for more than three hours. There was no shortage of laughter, he was a funny guy – unfortunately it seemed to be at the expense of others. Not that I was completely innocent – I definitely encouraged his ranting, but the entire first hour of our conversation surrounded the fact that the girl he had met the night before had a “FUPA” and he doesn’t like fat girls. (If you don’t know what a FUPA is, I’m not telling you. Sorry about it.) 

Remember how he had called me the night before while he had “friends” over. Ding. Ding, Ding. Turns out he didn’t want to be rude – so instead of making up some lame excuse or asking her to leave, he went into his bedroom leaving her in the living room with his roommate and his roommate’s girlfriend. No, No, not rude at all, very gentleman like in fact. Someone get this kid a prize. So he goes on to say that her personality was as bad as her figure and all she talked about was how great she was. I began to wonder if this upset him the most because it cut into his opportunity to talk about how great he was.

We went on to talk about his music career – his CDs, the well-known bands he opened for and the fact that he walked away from it all to pursue a law degree. We also covered other pertinent information including his fondness of oral sex. Wow! I consider myself a pretty open individual and am all for getting to know each other, but I usually limit first conversations to topics like favorite foods, best vacation spots, you know – things you generally do with your clothes on.

When the conversation finally ended, I hung up the phone with mixed feelings. The guy definitely made me laugh A LOT, which was really important, but mostly at the expense of a fat girl. And let’s face it – I was a fat girl. Maybe not at that second but I have spent a majority of my life over weight, not being able to shop at the stores my friends did (5, 7, 9? Oh yea - I can shop there, if they are selling SHOES) and not getting a second glance by guys who would check out my friends. Although I would have probably been considered “average”, at the time (hope so – since that is what my profile claimed!) I did not need to be worried about the person I was with not loving me in the event I packed on a few pounds, got some extra junk in my trunk, etc. Not to mention many of my family members frequent the “Women’s” section much more often than the “Bikini” section. The messed up thing was, he was not a buff or even average guy! And he admitted it and then said how he had always dated smaller girls – he actually talked at length about his ex-girlfriend, which was grand. He summed it up with this, “There is nothing sexy about two fatties rolling around together“. Lovely.

He also explained that his love life was suffering from the whole “law school” gig. With much confidence he said when he was a musician it wasn’t hard getting chicks, they approached him all the time. Modest. Ultimately I was having a hard time imagining a relationship or something serious resulting, based on our conversation. There was one way to find out.

The night we planned to meet I set out for his apartment with plans to go somewhere for a drink. I wasn’t exactly familiar with that part of town and the fact that it was dark didn’t help. So I called him when I couldn’t find where I was supposed to be turning and he was completely rude: “I’ve told you where it was like five times! You passed it AGAIN.” Sooo sorry I don't’t frequent downtown and could care less if the building is 12 floors or 168, doesn’t exactly help me out in the dark, now does it, genius?! I parked my car per bossy bosserson’s instructions and walked towards the building, where he met me. Let’s just be honest – I was less than impressed. Now – as we’ve covered, I don’t consider myself big on looks, I am no Jennifer Aniston. It was more about his face, which was not what I was expecting, after seeing his pictures. He was much shorter than expected and sans the facial hair I found very attractive in his pictures. Not to mention, he was much heavier than his pics portrayed (out of date, maybe?!). While this wouldn’t usually be a big deal since I not only appreciate but prefer a man whose lap I could sit on without causing pain – after the fupa tirade, it was just difficult to get past.

We decided to go to a nearby bar for dinner. Conversation was okay but I wasn’t entirely comfortable and found myself having ZERO to say to this guy, which was not typical. After dinner we went back to his place. I felt okay about it because his roommate was there. In hindsight that maybe should have made me a little apprehensive – I could have been walking myself right into a gang bang.

We planned on watching a movie but his roomie was watching baseball – so after talking with him for a bit we went into his bedroom to listen to his CD, in the works. We ended up laying down, kissing a little and cuddling. The entire time I was wondering how long I should give it before jetting. But the kissing felt nice, it had been a while - I had officially went from lonely to desperate, spending the evening making out with a guy who not only I wasn’t attracted to, but who actually grossed me out a tish. After an hour or so I made my escape, kissed him goodbye and good riddance (he didn’t know that part). I emailed him a couple days later with the first of many emails insisting, “I had a great time but I recently met someone who I want to concentrate on“. That seemed nicer than “I think you’re kind of an ass and couldn’t wait to leave your apartment; you should grow the facial hair back.” The worst part about it was the next day I realized I had lost one of my favorite earrings there. Pisser.

In the midst of this, I was in the early stages of talking to disaster number two.  He replied, “thanks for being honest – blah blah blah.” The end? Not so much – a few weeks later he sent me a message saying “noticed you were on-line in the last 24 hours” (nothing is sacred on these damn dating sites). “What happened with the guy”. Once again, I thought out loud, ”I’m sorry – WHAT?” No. Seriously? I shook my head and wrote him back telling him I had been online to show my co-worker the other guy’s picture, which was the truth. What I didn’t say was “And I’m still keeping my options open – you’re just not one of them”, which was also true. NEXT…