Maximum Weight

(I was doing some cupboard painting for this very pretty full figured chick in my condo building. Halfway through, I came across a hand written book about some sizzling romance going between this same heavy chick and her very hunky boyfriend. The end result was that someone was trying to explain how they lost their precious virginity. Who says most guys don't want a little meat on their bones?)

"Love handles."

"And by that, Jocelyn, you mean?"

"You asked me what men love the most about my full figured body."

"That was over an hour ago."

"I'm a little slow without my morning coffee."

"Whatever, Jocelyn. Conversing with you is like being hit by a truck. I'm outta here! Besides, I can't afford to be late for work again."

"Honestly, Deb, you're the only woman on the planet I know that refers to volunteer assignments as work."

Debra didn't answer. She knew I was only trying to start an argument to keep her hanging around so I wouldn't be alone.

Instead, I watched as the tall freckled faced college grad turned abruptly and sauntered away from me, braving the busy street, narrowly avoiding whizzing cars by jumping back and forth over the dangerous lanes.

Suddenly I was all by myself again. "Damn," I whispered, knowing from here on in I would be unable to take my mind off of Raymond.

I suddenly thought about perhaps going shopping, but then I remembered that I had already been there and done that the last few times that solitude had given me the blues. With little more to show for my efforts than a wallet full of maxed out credit cards, there didn't seem to be any point in making the mall my destination of choice.

I sighed and languished over the mental image of Raymond's handsome face, now so illustriously front and center in my tortured mind.

"Shit, what do I do now?"

My well chosen words of wisdom were directed not only at myself, but also at the Gods, who had saddled me with two hundred and ten pounds of flesh over a five foot two frame. It wasn't that my body weight wasn't evenly distributed over that frame, it was merely that there was simply too much of me! Mind you, my face was amazingly pretty, and I had these spectacular emerald green eyes. When you added that to the silky curls of long gorgeous flaming red hair, what you came up with was one of the world's most beautiful women, but only from the neck up.

The problem for me was that guys rarely only focused from the neck up. Of a far more major concern for them was the size and shape of visible cleavage, and how miniscule a shapely waist was in concert with the curvy hips.

I had always pegged my ideal weight at one twenty and my maximum weight at one hundred forty, and yet, there I was, an embarrassing seventy pounds over my allowed maximum.

At first I supposed that guys might not want to date such overweight girls like me, and for a while, that seemed to be exactly what happened. No dates for me during the two years I had become bloated in size, and it wasn't for a lack of trying. So I began trying something different than bars and clubs. I began using dating sites, and at first, had no luck. But then suddenly, out of the blue, this tall, handsome, well-muscled guy named Raymond emails me saying he likes my profile and wants to know more about me.

So there I am, telling him more about myself, and also telling him that he must have misread the fine print, because I was definitely in the "a few extra pounds" category.

Then he shocks me by emailing me back to say he read the fine print just fine, and that he actually 'loves' full figured women, and jokes he won't date a thing unless it has a "good amount of meat on its bones."

I'm not sure if I should believe him, but then he emails me back again, only this time asking me out to a nice restaurant.

I meet him like he asks, and he is even better looking than his picture, a real stunner. He is absolutely gorgeous, well dressed, well mannered, and even has all his own teeth. Well, there's no sense looking a gift horse in the mouth, I figure, and so I let him kiss me quite a bit, and even invite him in for coffee, but not to try out my buns, if you get my meaning. Well, he seems a little saddened that I would invite him in for coffee and give him, well, only coffee, but I assume he'll get over it because I'm not that kind of girl. I tell him what kind of girl I am and it doesn't seem to stop him from calling me up a few days later and asking me out again.

That's when I pinch myself to see if I'm actually awake or dreaming cause this guy seems too good to be true. Well, my friend Debra instructs me to 'for heaven's sake have sex with him cause you don't want to take a chance some other woman with more than just coffee will invite him in.'

Well, my friend Debra's advice seems rock solid, just like the heavenly chiseled jaw that Raymond has. But I'm not one to take advice, and so I tell her in no uncertain terms that I am not that kind of girl, just throwing myself under a man's naked body the way some throw themselves under a bus. And so, she asks me what kind of girl I am, and I tell her that I'm the cautious kind. I explain that I'm a slow mover and she explains that some faster girl with a faster brain is going to give Raymond some real fast moves that are going to leave me behind in the dust.

I shrug at Debra's words, and go out on this second date, a hockey game at the gardens to watch the Rangers take on the Bruins. I had mentioned on our first date that I really liked hockey and so I figure that's why he took me there. Well, to make a long story short, we stop at a charming café later for some desert and coffee, and then he drops me off home. Well, I ask him if he'd like to come in for some coffee and he says we just had coffee at the café, but that if there was anything else I was offering, he'd be happy to step inside. Well, I nervously re-iterate that I only serve boyfriends coffee, and that's where he imparts the customary peck on my cheek with those heavenly lips of his, and then off he goes, into the night.

"He probably went off into the arms of another woman," was how Debra put it when I was telling her the story.

Anyways, a few days later, just like clockwork, Raymond calls me up a third time, and I'm like, 'wow,' here's a guy that likes me, all two hundred and ten pounds of me, even though I give him nothing but coffee.

"He's not going to keep talking to you forever if you keep talking to him with your clothes on," my friend Debra warns, as I tell her the story.

I shrug and continue on in my story, telling her how the third date was a round of bowling and then a movie I was just dying to see. It really impressed me how this guy was willing to sit through some mushy chick flick without so much as once trying out his octopus arms on me, and all would seem to be going well, until we got back to my place and he hinted strongly that it was time for me to take things to the next level. In fact, he used those very words, and I remember exactly what he said, like it was just yesterday. Actually it was just yesterday.

At any rate, he said, and I quote, "Jocelyn, we've been dating for almost three weeks now, as well as exchanging emails and phone calls. I like you, I really do. As a matter of fact I like you a lot. But I think we need to start talking about exclusivity."

Well, call me a dunce if you want to, but I had no idea of what the hell he meant by the word 'exclusivity.' Just my luck that my perfect and hunky man was also turning out to be brainy as well. I pretended I knew what he was talking about and just let him continue. I soon caught on.

He then said, and I quote again. "Whenever I look into those stunning emerald green eyes of yours, or kiss those sweetly sculpted cheeks, or allow my nose to tangle itself in your gorgeous flaming red hair and consume that fabulous perfume, I think of how wonderful it would be to hold you in my arms and make love, all night long, to the most beautiful woman in the world."

Well, he says all this with a flash of dazzling white teeth, and warm skilful hands caressing my bare yet ample shoulders and I'm just about ready to cave, when suddenly, I remember that I'm not that kind of girl, and I reluctantly tell him so.

And then he lays a bombshell on me. He would love to continue our dating relationship, but only now, make me his one and only girlfriend with a view to developing a long term relationship, but only, and he stresses the word 'only,' if I'm ready to take our relationship to the next level.

Well, I wasn't born in a barn on a farm and I didn't grow up in one either, so I was smart enough to know that what he was really talking about was getting down and dirty as the way to making me his one and only.

Well, my friend Debra, who, by the way, is just as overweight as I am, well, she just about blows a gasket when I tell her I turned him down, and left him standing all alone on that porch with the words, "I'll have to think about it," dangling in the warm summer air like pesky mosquitoes, willing to buzz but unwilling to land.

And so, here I am today, watching my friend Debra's generous back side, finally make it across the traffic laden street. She too, is about seventy pounds over her 'maximum allowable weight,' and she too, is lonely and desperate where fetching a man is concerned. Only I have something she doesn't have, and that is a superhot gentleman waiting to sweep me off my feet. Only I like my feet firmly planted on the ground, not up in the air over a mattress.

"Why is it that the stupid ones like you always get the chances and then let them slip through your chubby little fingers?" Debra said, only a half hour ago after I had described my third date with Raymond in detail. "Why can't other big women like myself ever meet such a sweet guy, other women like myself who won't waste such a precious opportunity?"

Although spoken an entire thirty minutes ago, Debra's words were still ringing through my ears like ominous church bells chiming from a tower, filling the air with a call to come and worship the truth. Only the truth, in this case, was that I was being incredibly stupid. Here was a superhot, super buff, super nice guy who was interested in me even though I was sporting an extra seventy pounds over my allowable 'maximum weight!' Here was a thoughtful, generous, fun, romantic guy who thought the world of me and really, really liked me and wanted to have a long term relationship with me, leading to, in his words, "a possible marriage." I sighed and imagined kicking myself in the chubby rear. I was going to have to lose my virginity sometime. At twenty-one, most women had already lost it dozens of times over, and yet...and yet...and yet here I was, little miss twenty-one year old, overweight prim and proper, holding out for the perfect guy, and yet...and yet...and yet "earth to Jocelyn, earth to Jocelyn! Your perfect guy is here already! What on earth are you waiting for?" Those were Debra's words, by the way, not mine, and yet she certainly had a valid point. Just what in the hell was I waiting for? Why was I stalling?

"I'm still a virgin." It was a sentence I had used to describe my predicament to both sarcastic Debra, only this morning, and spectacular Raymond, only last night. Each of them had a right to know what the holdup was, and each of them was now painfully aware of why I was so hesitant to stretch my legs apart.

"I didn't realize there were any women on this earth, over eighteen that were still virgins?" Debra spits out incredulously, almost as if she's ready to choke on her own, well, spit.

"There are still some of us around," I admitted. "It's not that I'm holding out till I'm married, or anything like that, mind you," I tried to clarify. "It's just that I always viewed 'giving it up' as something sacred and spiritual, almost like some kind of carefully planned ritual that is accompanied by seeing stars and angels singing and a gold plated bed in a five star hotel somewhere exotic. I never imagined it as some afterthought for some pushy guy on a third date that told me I smelled nice."

"I believe he called you the most beautiful woman in the world," Debra corrected. "I also believe he talked about sex being a prelude to a long and lasting relationship, a possible marriage were his exact words, or so you told me."

"Okay, so he is a special kind of guy, and it's not like I have these super high standards or anything, it's just that I thought there would be more to giving up my virginity than just a spur of the moment thing."

Debra frowned, shook her head like I was crazy, then threw her arms up into the air in utter frustration. "Girl, you are from another planet! Well, play hard to get with Mr. Perfect if you want to, but it won't be long before some other large sized woman recognizes what a great once in a lifetime catch he is and just scoops him up right out from under your nose."

So now Debra is out of sight, having crossed the street and rounded the corner. And so now I stand alone, wallowing in my own self-made juices. The perfect and ultra-sexy Raymond has offered to give me 'exclusivity' over his fabulous face and body, but only if I'll let him fill my unused tiny, tight virgin hole with his no doubt giant sized manhood. I just stand here, with my mouth salivating and my whole body percolating over the delicious prospect. He has said he wants me to give him an answer by tonight. No doubt a hot hunk like that who can toss money away on fancy restaurants and expensive hockey tickets, has a long line of other oversized women just begging to break down his door. But I have till tonight. Tonight! That's eight more hours with which I can either convince myself to be smart and hold onto the man of my dreams, or play dumb, and keep my legs crossed. Either way, I now wonder if I won't just end up feeling equally bad about making either decision.

On the one hand, if I do lay down and do the moan and groan for the very first time, I might come away feeling like I was unduly pressured, or forced. If he really likes me like he says, why can't he wait? But then I tell myself that I can understand being in his shoes. It's not like I told him I only needed a few more high priced dates to decide. It's more like I left the impression I might take months, or even years to decide. A hot guy like that is not going to live like a monk when so many women are just tossing themselves in front of him like ready to unwrap presents.

XXX

My eight hours are up, not that I did anything constructive with them anyways. I just kind of frittered them away one hour at a time, kind of like pulling petals off a daisy and murmuring mindlessly, "he loves me, he loves me not."

As if on perfect cue, I hear my phone ring. Isn't this guy ever late or unreliable even once?

I am now at home, and let the phone ring an astounding three times before I actually press talk, which is pretty risky because it automatically goes into voicemail on the fifth ring.

"Hello Raymond," I whisper seductively, using a finger to twirl one of the stunning red curls he's told me often that he simply adores. I sigh at the thought, but still am unsure as to what I want to do.

"Have you given any thought to what we talked about last night?" he asks hopefully, and I can hear the anticipation in his voice. "You know, about taking our relationship to the next level?"

"I need more time," I manage, surprising myself at the cunningness of my answer. "I've given it a lot of thought," I admit. "But I'd like another week or two to think it over."

"Take as much time as you need," he offers. "However, you do know, that I wasn't seeing anyone else during the three weeks we dated, but now, without a commitment on your part, I will start to see other girls besides you as well. You do understand that of course?"

His words stun me, like fingernails running down a chalkboard, and then I think that fair is fair. If I won't commit to being his girlfriend, then he has a right to pursue other options while I make up my mind.

"I wasn't asking for a lot more time," I whine pathetically. "Just a week or so."

"Honestly, Jocelyn, you know how much I like you, but we've already spent countless hours on the phone and exchanged countless emails as well. When you add to that, the three really good dates we've already had, I get the feeling you may never be ready for a sexual relationship. Not that I think that's necessarily a bad thing. I respect you wanting to remain a virgin and all. But I would like to find a woman that wants to be in a physical relationship as much as I do. You've got to be fair to me as well. I don't want to be made to feel like I'm some kind of bad guy or creep trying to push you into something that, quite frankly, I now don't think you're ready for."

"I can't believe you're putting such pressure on me!"

"You see what I mean? You're making me feel like a culprit already, like some kind of pushy bad guy that wants to force sex out of you. I'm not used to begging and I'm not used to not having sex on a regular basis. I am a one woman man, but I still need a woman that is going to love me on all levels. In a way, I'm kind of relieved you're not ready. If we did sleep together and then things didn't work out, I get the sense you would have somehow have made me feel guilty over taking your virginity. It's not something I want or need on my conscience. I know a lot of guys wouldn't care about a woman's feelings, but I do."

I sighed at his words. He was, indeed, too good to be true, and Debra, being the little, equally overweight prophetess that she was, had accurately predicted that I would be sorry if I continued on my present 'hard to get' pathway. Still, I had been so damn used to having my way with Raymond, and hearing him lavish me with adoration, that the thought of him pawing over some other woman was infuriating me with jealous rage and envy.

I suddenly blurted out words without at least first considering their repercussions. "You wanna see other women? Fine! If sex is all you wanted me for in the first place then I'll be glad to be rid of you. All you men care about is just one thing!"

I clicked the phone off and tossed it against the wall. It caught the corner of the drape before impact, at least cushioning a part of the blow, and thereby keeping it from shattering into a dozen pieces. I hoped it still worked. I knew in my heart of hearts I may want to call him later to apologize and swallow a plate full of crow.

The clock read seven. That was the exact time he had picked me up on my three dates with him. Only now, instead of coming by to take me someplace really nice and expensive, he would be doing exactly as I asked, and leaving me all alone, with no place to go.

As if on cue, Debra's number showed up on my cell phone. A part of me hated the thought of grovelling before little miss I told you so, but at least my phone still worked.

"Hi Debbie."

"Hmmm, if you're answering your phone that means you can't be out with Raymond, which means you couldn't have told him what he wanted to hear, which means you fucked up big time."

"I didn't fuck up as you say. I merely told him that if all he wanted me for was sex he was welcome to date other women."

"What?! Are you serious? What are you, brain dead? What other woman is not going to recognize a really sweet guy when she sees one? Look at yourself in the mirror Jocelyn. What other super hunky, sweet, generous, loving, charming guy is going to want to have a long term relationship with you?"

I suddenly unleashed a stream of tears. "You have no right to say that to me," I blurted out. "I'm not repulsive. I'm extremely pretty, fun to be with and very witty."

"And also very much alone."

"So I wouldn't give in and let Raymond fuck me. Yes he was super sweet, yes he was amazingly buff and handsome, but he had also delivered me an ultimatum. Either I let him stuff me full of cock or lose him forever."