You've All Heard The One About Fat Girls and Mopeds
THE QUESTION IS: WOULD YOU RATHER BE SEEN ON A DATE WITH THIS GIRL IN THE BLUE, OR WAKE UP NEXT TO HER IN THE MORNING?
My friend, he is one of those high standards guys. He is, in fact, the guy who sent the picture that inspired yesterday’s rant. Though not condescending towards those of us that choose to indulge in the pleasures of somewhat fleshy females form time to time, he certainly considers himself above it. So when his barber set him up on a blind date (and, really your barber? I mean, maybe your gay hair stylist, but your barber?) with a girl that was first described to my friend as, “Maybe, like thirty-ish,” I knew he was in for an unusual ride. Upon his mentioning that his last girlfriend had been 37 (he is 25) it was immediately disclosed that she was around 35. Or so. “Or so,” loosely translated, means “add 1-3 years.” She was also described as thick but not fat, with red hair, a large chest and a big ass. So, upon my misguided advice (“Dude, she’s in her thirties and has red hair. She’s gotta be good in bed”), my boy took the proverbial plunge and agreed to meet this apparently well marbled, aged to perfection lady for drinks at the Kendall Ale House.
The Ale House is a perennial hangout for all of the West Dade All-Stars on any given Wednesday-Sunday. Why this Florida chain restaurant featuring mediocre food and dirty bar lines is so massively popular among the young-and-Cuban set is beyond me, but suffice to say when my friend arrived it was wall to wall people. He sauntered up to the bar, ordered himself a Guinness, and waited. He briefly considered leaving when a large, red-haired girl stepped up right next to him at the bar. He was disgusted, but as he saw her pull out her cell phone, he knew immediately who she was going to call. “Is your name Beth?” he asked her, hopefully, When she replied in the affirmative his heart sank. Not that he hadn’t been expecting this, given the description, but his worst fears had now been realized. He was on a date with a fat chick.
Now, in his defense, he did not know that she would be hideous. So taking her to a popular local hangout did not seem like such a bad idea. But after exchanging a few pleasantries with this red-headed behemoth, my friend looked across the bar and saw just about the last thing anybody on a date with a fat girl wants to see. It was his friend Frenchy’s neighbor, flanked by said neighbor’s girlfriend, flanked by Fenchy. All staring, eyes agape, at my friend and his metabolically challenged escort. They all looked over at him and smiled that “Man, we are gonna give you so much shit for this later” kind of smile that you fear when being caught in the amorous presence of an oversized female.
Were this not bad enough, as my friend sat down at a table another familiar face approached him. “Hey, what’s up, bro? Remember me? I’m H-Law’s roommate! She’s around here somewhere if you want to say hello.” H-Law is a co-worker of my friend’s that he had sex with on occasion just because he could, though he found her to be one of the single most annoying people he had ever met and eventually cut things off. And while her opinion is about as relevant to him as that of your average third grader, he certainly was not looking forward to a girl that he had rejected seeing that he was, in fact, out with a girl roughly twice her size. “Oh, I get it now. I was too SKINNY for you. Well, I’m sorry, I like you but you’re definitely not worth putting on a hundred pounds for.” It would only serve to inflate her already overpuffed ego. Although I suppose an overpuffed ego is still preferable to an overpuffed ass.
Were the presence of two good friends and an ex-fuck buddy not enough, as he continued to draw out this super-sized fiasco he felt a brush against his left shoulder. He turned around he saw yet another one of his friends, known as Brain, walking past his table. Brain turned his head slightly over his shoulder, gave him the smile of shit, then turned back around and joined Frenchy at the bar. The friends left shortly afterward, making sure to scream goodbye at the top of their lungs to him as they walked out the door. Just so he knew that they knew that he would be getting chided for this as soon as he dared to pick up his cell phone.
Now, I have made no secret of the fact that I have had some thoroughly unattractive women in my time. But I have never been on a date with any of them. That is to say the only people who saw me with my great white whales were whatever random bar patrons happened to be frequenting the Tavern on that particular evening. And I take a small amount of ironic pride in being able to stomach such nastiness. So, I would like to pose the question: Which is more embarrassing? Sleeping with a fat girl and admitting it or being spotted by half of your known acquaintances on a date with a girl who could play Leonardo DiCaprio’s mother, but not touching her?
Please offer your opinions freely. I will relay the results to my friend.