Tag Archives: Men Every Big Girl Will Meet

Men Every Big Girl Will Meet: The Old Man

Yesterday, as I rode the bus up Amsterdam avenue a blonde haired, blue eyed man with a gentle Hungarian accent struck up a conversation with me. His eyes sparkled as we chatted and he looked at me in the way that guys do when they’re attracted to you. I have a bad habit of flirting back when people flirt with me, so it wasn’t until he slooowly got up to get off of the bus that I snapped back to reality: this Hungarian charmer was easily 60 years old.

Now, this was a harmless encounter with an old man that had a Sean Connery type style and I would have loved to have met him 30-35 years ago when he was in his prime. Sadly, a fun, flirty run in with a Hungarian Grandpa is a rarity for me because I usually attract a different kind of AARP member.

Fact: Old men like big girls.

Fact: Dirty old men love big girls.

You know the men I’m talking about… the old men with receding hairlines and a stomach so big it looks like they’re about to give birth. The ones who haven’t had a job since 1979 and spend their afternoons “hanging out” on the corner. These are the men who love to approach a plus size princess on her way home from work and say things like mmmm… you look so sexy in those heels, do you need someone to give you a foot massage tonight, baby? Or who call out to their friends I’ll see ya’ll later, here comes my wife! while they follow you to the subway station on a Friday night asking if they can come to the party.

When I would attend the BBW parties in the city, there were always a few Seniors in attendance. Watching them dance was often awkward because they dance from a completely different generation. There’s a lot of hand holding, spinning and two-stepping when you dance with an older man, and it ends up feeling like you’re at a wedding dancing with your Uncle Joe.

Every old man was once a young man. But something tells me these grandpa’s weren’t hollering at thick chicks back in the day. What makes these men only appreciate PSP’s in their old age? I feel like there’s more to the old man/big girl connection, but I really can’t put my finger it. Here’s my speculation, and you all are more than welcome to chime in with your thoughts:

I’ve heard a lot of older women talk about how in their old age that start to live their lives and not care what other people think. (i.e. the red hat society). We all know the cliche of the guy who likes big girls but is too embarrassed to actually be with one. This is a long shot, but maybe… just maybe, in their old age, these men start to realize that life is too short to deny yourself of what you like.

Maybe in their old age they are confident enough to go after what they want.

Of course, if men realized they could be attracted to Plus Size Princesses before they were candidates for Viagra, Fixadent and Depends, it would make PSP’s feel much better about ourselves….

Thoughts???

Men Every Big Girl Will Meet: The Stripper

A few years ago, my cousin dragged me to Webster Hall (I was 18, don’t judge me!) for “Ladies Night” which included an open bar and male dancers from 8-10pm. The idea of a naked sweaty stranger made me very uncomfortable, so I found a spot against the wall where I could sip my free screwdriver and watch the show from a safe distance.

The lights went down and a man wearing chaps and a tasselled thong came skipping, kicking and bucking onto the stage while the women in the building screamed their faces off. After a few minutes of hand stands and humping the ground, the stripper made his way to the edge of the stage. He licked his lips as he scanned the crowd and then he reached down and grabbed a big girl from the front row.

He lifted her off the ground and she tugged on her shirt to keep it from rising up as he twirled her in the air. She was screaming, the crowd was cheering and the stripper had a confident smirk on his face. He flipped her so that her legs were around his waist and then he slowly slid her to the ground and crawled between her legs. After a few minutes of simulating the missionary position he flipped her over onto her stomach. Then he pulled her pants down in the back, slid a banana into her… um, cheeks and ate it. I almost spit out my drink.

For the rest of the night, I must have seen at least five big girls get called onto the stage. Seeing a pattern, I made sure I stayed waaay in the back, because there was no way I was going up there.

Fast Forward to this past weekend. I was on the Lower East Side for a co-workers birthday party when a guy slid up to dance with me, “Imma work on this right here!” he said (to my chest). He leaned into my ear and whispered, “You know I’m a stripper, right?” Then he grinned and lifted his shirt to show his six pack stomach. I guess, because I’m a big girl, that was the moment when I was supposed to get excited, but I just got scared that he’d pull out a banana and try to… never mind.

Just when I thought that I was imagining the stripper/big girl connection, my friend Maya referenced a friend of ours as having stripper tendencies. “Oh, CeCe you know how he always makes himself available to the girls who no one is really checking for? He’s like… a stripper! No offense, but strippers always seek out the big girl in the back of the room ’cause they know that she’ll appreciate the attention.”

No offense taken, she was right.

My observation is that strippers get the biggest reaction from the biggest girls and so they gravitate to us. They also get a reaction from the crowd when they’re lifting and flipping us because– well, it’s pretty impressive!

Although strippers aren’t my cup of tea, I don’t knock anyone big or small who enjoys them. I guess in the back of my mind I just wonder if they feed into the big girl stereotype of desperation (which is something I’ve talked about before). Anyway, all I can do is sound the alarm, for better or worse, strippers are drawn to big girls like a moth to a flame (and if that “moth” is carrying a banana… run!)

Men Every Big Girl Will Meet: The Bouncer

It was one of those random Saturday nights that just naturally unfolds. After dinner and drinks in Chelsea with my girlfriends, we decided that we wanted to go dancing. We piled into a cab and ten minutes later we were on the Lower East Side, making our way into one of those dance spots that’s super popular even though there’s no sign on the door.

The DJ was rockin’ it and we’d had our share of cocktails, so caution was being thrown to the wind. As per usual, there were moments when I felt like I was the only one who wasn’t being approached by guys, but I was too tipsy to care. The bass was pounding and I was having my own dance party when Beyonce’s “Get Me Bodied” came on. That song has become sort of a theme song among my girlfriends and immediately we were huddled together doing the UH oh, UH oh, UH oh no no no.

I could feel someone watching me and when I looked up, one of the bouncers gave me a smile and a nod.

Maybe I watched that Studio 54 movie too many times (Ryan Phillippe, anyone?) but I was always afraid that some bouncer would stop me on my way into a club and tell me that I was too fat to be there. But ever since Kenzie and I acquired those fake ID’s, the opposite has been the case. I’ve attended birthday parties at clubs where there was a cover, but I got in for free because of a bouncer who thought I was cute. I’ve also had bouncers corner me on my way out of the ladies room to ask for my number.

It can be flattering… but its mostly frustrating.

While my friends are being publicly hit on by brokers and bankers, I’m privately being approached by bouncers. More often than not, a bouncer will slide up beside me and discreetly ask me my name so that he wont get in trouble. 99% of the time, I’m not interested, but if I do decide to converse with them, they’re constantly looking over my shoulder to see if their manager is walking by. I understand that they approach me with discretion because they’re they’re not supposed to be fraternizing with the patrons, but it makes me feel like a secret or something. Not to mention the fact that they probably do this every single weekend to every PSP who comes in to dance.

I’ve had bouncers hit on me in bars, clubs, lounges, Dave and Busters and at the BBW parties, so its definitely a pattern in my life. Although, its getting old.

If a tall muscular man in a black suit is going to tell me I’m beautiful, I want him to follow that up with a drink, a dance and some conversation. I don’t want him to spend the rest of the night standing on the wall staring at me without moving.

Men Every Big Girl Will Meet: The Taxi Cab Driver

Kenzie and I have been friends since we moved to New York City for college. During our sophomore year we were able to score fake IDs from older girls who looked like us and we decided to test them out by bar hopping on the Upper West Side. Kenzies long blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and amazing body had caught the eye of a bartender at Mod, an upper west side bar with a 1970’s theme. With attention from the bartender came free drinks for the both of us. Shots… martinis… shots… martinis, all night.

We stumbled out of the bar laughing and holding onto each other for balance. “What’s happening? I’ve never been this drunk in my life!” I yelled. Kenzie and I lived in dorms that were six blocks apart and I came up with the idea that it would be safer to take a bus uptown instead of the train. We carefully made our way to 79th street where we leaned against the bus stop and waited. We’d been there for about 15 minutes when a yellow cab sped by, slammed on its breaks and then went in reverse until it was right in front of us. I froze as the cab driver rolled down his window.

“Where are you ladies going?” he asked.

Kenzie and I looked at each other, “We’re going uptown,” I said reluctantly.

“I’ll take you!” the cab driver said, unlocking the doors.

“Nooo nooo, its okay,” I said. Then I whispered into his window, “We don’t have any caaaash.”

“Don’t worry about it baby.”

Kenzie and I exchanged glances. I knew the decision was mine, so I quickly rationalized in my head that 1.) we’d been waiting on the bus for a long time… and 2.) if Kenzie had locked down free drinks for us all night, the least I could do was get us a free cab ride home.

We hopped in. The driver asked me where I was from, why I was living in New York and how long I had been here. I answered his questions as we rode uptown. I lived on 113th and Kenzie lived on 119th, so I should have been dropped off first, but the cab driver sped past my dorm as he continued to ask me questions. He pulled in front of Kenzies dorm and before she got out, she looked me in the eyes, “callmeassoonas yougethome,” she mumbled.

We waited until she was safely inside of her building and then he turned around to face me in the back seat. “Do you want to come sit up here with me?” he asked.

“Um… I’m fine back here.”

“No problem,” he turned back around and drove me to my intersection (I wouldn’t tell him where my exact building was) in silence. “Thanks for the ride,” I said as I reached to open my door and jump out.

“Wait,” he turned around in his seat again. “I– I think you’re a very beautiful woman. I work a lot and I don’t have time to meet people but, I’m looking for someone… a companion. I would like to see you again. Can I call you?”

I didn’t know what to say. I told him that I would take his number and said that I would call. Of course, I didn’t. He was sweet, but I wasn’t interested.

I swear this has happened more times than I can count. There was a super hot town car driver in Harlem who never asked me out, but insisted that I call him whenever I needed a ride. I spent the summer of 2008 with my own personal chauffeur… it was crazy.

Oh! and remember the Dating Driveby? He was a cab driver too!

Anyway, I’m sure the foreign/cultural thing has something to do with it, because most drivers are men of color. But would say on average I get one free cab ride per year. Sometimes I’m waiting for a bus and they offer to take me. Sometimes I go to hand them cash at the end of my trip and they say “don’t worry about it”. It’s usually harmless and I’ve never felt uncomfortable. I know a chubby girl who’s been living with her boyfriend for three years and she met him while riding in the back of his cab, so as I said before, I know I’m not the only PSP that this is happening to….

Of course the whole Taxi Cab phenomenon is more relevant to Big City PSP’s but, if you’ve had similar experiences please chime in!

Men Every Big Girl Will Meet: The Foreign Guy

Looking back on the men who’ve tried to “holler” at me, there are certain reoccurring trends. I can basically pin point specific “types” of men who I’ve consistently encountered as a Plus Size Princess in New York City and I’m willing to bet I’m not the only PSP they’re approaching. So, this week I begin a series called “Men Every Big Girl Will Meet”. Maybe some of these dudes will sound familiar… Here we go!

Theres a really sweet girl who has been interning at my office. She’s from the south, she has blonde hair, big green eyes and a chunky frame. I went to grab a cup of coffee the other day when I heard her talking to one of the other interns. Apparently, over the past week she:

Monday: Met a middle eastern guy on the train who was hot but way smaller/shorter than she’d like
Tuesday: Let him take her on her first date… ever
Wednesday: Had her first kiss with him (it was awful)
Thursday: Realized they weren’t a match due to his broken English and overly emotional ways
Friday: Dumped him.

As I Eavesdropped listened to the interns story, I realized she’d met… The Foreign Guy.

Foreign men love big women. So, when a big girl is shopping on 5th avenue where the mentality is that “you can’t be too skinny or too rich”, she shouldn’t be surprised when the foreign man on the corner selling knock-off handbags gives her more attention than the sales people at Saks.

I guess the obvious reason is that the standards of beauty in other countries are very different. In the sixth grade I can remember Mrs. Osaki teaching us about Yang Guifei, who brought down an ancient Chinese Dynasty because she was so hot. She was also chubby during a time when size conveyed a certain social/economic status. Basically she was fat because she could afford to eat, and everyone wanted to be fat to show that they could afford it too. The 11 year old Plus Size Princess in me was slightly annoyed that that I wasn’t born in that era. (Is there a Chinese translation for “You can never be too rich or too… fat?”).

Then there are the African and Middle Eastern countries where wives are sent away to fatten up in order to become attractive for their betrothed. The more they weigh on their wedding day, the better. As my engaged friends sign up for fitness boot camps in order to lose weight and fit into their wedding dresses, I wonder how much easier it would be if they were buying their dresses a size too big with the hopes of gaining weight, instead of a size too small in the hopes of losing it.

The other thing that stood out to me from our interns story was that her Foreigner was very emotional. I’d had a similar experience a few years back.

One night at Divas, I met a really cool economics major from Senegal. Obviously he liked big girls because he was at a big girl club. We had a good time on the dance floor so when he asked for my number, I gave it to him. He called me the next night to go to dinner. I didn’t have plans, so I went. After dinner, he became very clingy. He was calling me all the time, wanting to see me, telling me I was the girl he’d been looking for etc. etc. He was saying nice things, but it didn’t sit well with me. After a while I realized… he was lonely.

A lot of these foreign guys come to the states for a better life, but they leave a lot behind. They don’t have family or friends here, but they aren’t socially acclimated to American culture which can make it difficult to make friends. Especially in a city like New York, where although there are millions of people its easy to feel isolated.

I’m not saying that all foreign men are tragic and lonely. I’ve had a good time dating Middle Eastern, Australian, African, and Turkish guys. My mom is an American girl who got swept off her feet by an engineering major from across the Atlantic and 30+ years later they’re still together (and he’s a great husband and father ♥). But my mom was a little thick back in the day and my Dad liked what he saw. So their love story still falls under this category.

Foreign men like girls with a little extra here and there, which actually brings me to the next man every big girl (in New York) will meet: The Cab Driver. But more on that next week… stay tuned!

P.S. Have any of you dated a guy from another country? Or been approached by one online? How’d it go?