Tag Archives: A Plus Size… Prince?

A Plus Size… Prince? (Part 2)

Andrew and I had plans to grab drinks last night and I as much as I tried, I could not get excited.

Part of me felt like I was going out with Andrew in order to prove something to myself. I felt like I was forcing myself to go out with someone that I wasn’t attracted to. Andrew wasn’t ugly or anything, but I couldn’t get past his size and I felt horrible about it. I mean, how many guys have missed out on amazing girls (example: me) because they wouldn’t consider dating someone who was overweight.

As a PSP, does the fact that I don’t like big men make me a hypocrite?

I sat at the bar sipping a glass of Shiraz when Andrew walked in. Maybe it wasn’t the fact that he was overweight that bothered me. Perhaps it was how he carried his weight that was the problem. He had an apologetic way about him; with shoulders slumped down, a gut that pushed through his shirt and the way he walked or rather schlepped across the wine bar to meet me was a huge turn off.

“Hey,” he said casually as he pulled up a bar stool beside me.

No hug, no kiss on the cheek.

I took a deep breath and struck up a conversation, asking him about work, his drive into the city (he lived upstate), and anything else I could think of. Eventually the conversation turned to the other girls from DIVAS who he’d been out with.

“They’ve been cool,” he said, “but none of them were as hot as you.”

From the way he looked at the ground when he complimented me, I knew he meant it. It was sweet. I tried to get past appearances and look inside to see who Andrew really was and if he was someone that I wanted to get to know.

I still had work in the morning, so we headed to his car so that he could drive me home. When he pulled his car in front of my building we sat there for a while saying the obligatory “I had a nice time”, “we should do it again” etc., then there was a lull in the conversation.

“Can I kiss you now?” he said, looking straight ahead.

I was so on the fence with him, that I was willing to try anything to feel butterflies.

“Sure,” I replied.

He unbuckled his seat belt, and leaned across the car to kiss me. It was a nice kiss, but the only thing I felt was an increased determination not to be a hypocrite. How could I ask men to look past the physical, if I wasn’t willing to do the same? Perhaps this was just a self serving experiment, but when he said:

“Can I call you tomorrow?”

I said: