Chub’s Second Chance With Her First Crush
I’m a big believer in the saying “everything happens for a reason.” For being a self-professed cupid-loving, hero-seeking, hot blooded female, hell yes I believe everything happens for a reason. I think you have to when on the lookout for love. So imagine how tickled I was when an old flame from my playground days reached out to me via Facebook 15 years later. Now when I say flame, he was basically my first intermediate school crush. But his attention was fixed on a chesty fourth grader who wasn’t rolly polly chub like me. I can close my eyes and still hear my chunky inner thighs rubbing together in my Unionbay overalls gliding down the tiny school halls. My gold-rimmed glasses and blobby face smiled, even though I was round and no boys fancied me. It was okay because I had my Beverly Cleary books and my humor. And this little boy I had a crush on (we’ll call him Jake) liked me as a friend.
Fifteen years flashed by and we both landed in Dallas for our first “grow-up jobs.” Good ol’ Facebook allowed us to re-connect. He asked me out on a date and the little fat girl was jumping for joy inside as I realized this was finally my chance. It was my ugly duckling turned swan moment. I remember my mom assuring me a moment like this would happen. It was simply too hard to believe her as we were shopping in the Pretty Plus section at Sears, browsing the ample selection of elastic waist jeans. But this was my moment to let that little fat girl shine. I couldn’t wait for Jake to see me in a silk little number I picked out just for the date. I wanted his jaw to hit the floor.
We decided to meet in Uptown for a quick drink and then dinner. I was shamelessly giddy, making certain every hair was in place. Plus, a girl always loves a little extra motivation to shave the legs. I was pleased with our initial greeting. He still looked just as cute as he did back in our little elementary school desks. When he reached in to give me a squeeze, I was flushed with excitement and nerves. Doing a happy dance inside, we got in his car and headed to the restaurant.
As we looked over the menu, the conversation flowed smoothly, just like the wine. I kept invisibly pinching myself, unable to believe destiny was calling and giving me a second chance at the plate. After our first date, he consistently texted and called me every single day. He’d start the string of texts each day with “How’s the day?” He was out of town a lot for work, but made sure he contacted me daily. When he popped into town, he would make time for a date. As my interest and affection grew for him, it went south.
I soon realized he was a huge partier. When I say partier, I mean frat boy, blackout drunk partying. No offense, but I never dated a frat boy in college and I sure as hell ain’t gonna start now. Some of my friends and I were planning to meet up with him and his pals. He continually called me, anticipating the meet-up and was three sheets to the wind. Slurring illogical shit together, he would hang up and call me right back. Each time he called me, he had no recollection of the previous call. After this repeated nine times, I was beyond perturbed. As I was washing my hands of this nonsense, his slop-drunk ass appeared in front of the patio where we were waiting. I have never seen such a stumbling, gross fool. His attractiveness plummeted and I soon realized he was not the same boy I had a crush on years ago.
We joined him and his friends for a hot minute. I got groped and smooched on my cranium and then I peaced the hell out of there. Having every intention of deleting his number, he called me the next morning apologizing profusely for his “out of character” behavior. One of the most valuable tidbits I’ve learned along this roller coaster of love is that if someone says his behavior is “out of character,” it’s probably a lie. I’d put money on it that it’s absolutely in line with his character; it’s simply a trait he realizes isn’t admirable. Anyway, like a puppy love fool I gave him another chance.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on the little fat girl who so desperately wanted this to work. A couple weeks later, it’s déjà vu all the hell over again. This time I was home, fast asleep and I get a booty call in the middle of the night. Now, we had never even kissed at this point and Jake is blowing up my phone, telling me how amazing and sexy I am. In fact, he was wanting to come crawl in bed with me. He was even feeding me bullshit (which I eagerly consumed) that I was unlike other girls and the kind of girl you get serious with. I boldly retorted, “Maybe you should kiss me after a date first, before we jump into the sack and bone.”
The next day rolled around and his sober self conveniently didn’t recall the conversation. He was such a bore on our date. It was our sixth one and I was sick of purchasing “first kiss” outfits. Every time he took me out, I kept thinking that it was going to be our first kiss. After our sixth and final date, I was feeling insecure and confused as to why he wasn’t making a move. I couldn’t stand it anymore so I called him afterwards and explained I wasn’t really feeling it, partly because of his drunken little fits and because he wasn’t making a move. I am all about chivalry, but in this day and age, a first kiss after fifteen years and six dates is basically mandatory. He assured me he thought I was beautiful and sexy, but he was just waiting for it to click. Finally…an honest, straight answer. Not the answer I wanted but at least he was giving it to me straight. Us girls really do want the hard, honest truth. It doesn’t help us when you sugar coat that shit. He said he wanted to keep dating, but I knew it wouldn’t end pretty. When the chemistry isn’t there, it simply isn’t there.
Although this tale of a schooldays lover didn’t end in a lip-lock, let alone matrimony, at least I got my second chance. I definitely owed it to the little chubby-cheeked girl inside of me. I think that is truly the sweetest, most blissful moment a formerly fat girl can have. Although I didn’t snag the man, I certainly snagged my day in the sun.