I know I’m posting a lot today. I blame the good night’s rest I received, and a burst of sudden creative inspiration. I love moments like this, where my fingertips tingle with anticipation, yearning to pour out more creative energy. In this post, I want to share a story of how I was rejected by a man…. and why it’s perfectly fine if you get rejected too! 😀
I bet you thought that this was going to be a sad post, right? 😉 Nope! This is all about love, body positivity, and telling yourself that you ARE amazing and someone out there DOES want to sleep with you. Promise! Ready for the story? Okay, let’s dive in.
We’re going to rewind the clock several years. I’ve always been a curvy chick, so that’s nothing new, but my hair was longer then and I’m far wiser now. Those are the only differences. I had met this guy online and played video games together daily. We chatted on voice chat, and like so many other guys, he had told me how sexy my voice is. I grew smitten and curious about him. The feelings only intensified when I found out that he lived several hours south of me. “Do you…. wanna meet up?” I asked him cautiously one night. He was all for it. We had exchanged photos, and finally video chatted, so we knew what we both looked like, and it seemed like all systems were a go.
Daddy was extremely cautious and protective of me going to visit this friend, but being kinky like I am, was open to the idea of me playing with another partner for one night. And thus, the date began.
Now, I’ve never been “that girl” who is smooth, well-spoken, and attracts a ton of men. I’m shy, nerdy, and more of a listener. Once I get comfortable, certainly I open up and talk quite a lot, but on a first date that’s hardly the case. So as we went in for the “hello hug” I felt my heart pound out of my chest. I had chosen my outfit out of a million choices, and even then questioned if I looked okay. “Be cute, casual, and calm…” I told myself over and over like a mantra. I slapped on a bit of makeup, pulled my hair up in a ponytail, and off we went. From the start I noticed that he eyed me differently. “Didn’t you say that you’re 5’1?” he asked suspiciously. “Um… yes?” I blinked. I’m 5’1 and a half, but who’s counting. The man was 5 feet even and having a woman who was even an inch taller than he was, did not sit well on his system. “Okay” he muttered and we walked back to his car.
Let’s pause here for a moment: why are men self-conscious about their height? I don’t care if you’re tall, short, fat, thin, rocking a six pack, or have a huge belly! Are you kind, open-minded, and interesting? Yes? Then we can jive together. It’s that simple. But I digress. Let’s move on.
The date proceeded well enough. We held hands, went swimming, walked the pier, and finally went back to the hotel room. I had been too nervous to eat much, so I was starving, but drank water to hide my tummy growling. The guy had spoken about his ex, and getting over her, while I listened attentively. After swimming in the pool I went to shower up and change into pajamas. Lathering up my hair in the shower, suddenly he stepped in with me. I blushed! “Oh” I meeped, and gave a shy smile. Despite being a fat girl, I’m not really that nervous about people seeing me naked. It’s a body. You have one too. It’s really not that weird. Still, I was caught off guard because I liked his guy. He was a 150 lb. cutie with a six pack who loved martial arts. Our conversation had flowed smoothly enough and now we were showering together! “Obviously, he likes me!” my brain screamed.
As I began drying my hair he came up behind and whispered near my ear, “Come to the bed when you’re done, and don’t put anything on”. My throat squeezed and my heart skipped a beat. “We’re gonna have SEX!!!” my inner voice squealed, “Who’s bringing sexy back??? THIS CHICK!!”. I was doing cartwheels in my mind as I slipped into bed under the covers where he laid waiting for me. There’s that moment where you’re about to kiss. That half of a second where you both soak it in, smile gently, and then go for it. I love that moment. I felt his hand cup the side of my face as we began to kiss. Perhaps he didn’t expect my lips to be so soft, because when we broke apart he mumbled, “Wow… that was good. Let’s do that again”. And in he went to kiss me again as I smiled.
Despite our bodies pressed up against each other, somehow I had kept the sheet against me like a safeguard. So as he began to peel back the sheet I felt my body grow hot and tense in his arms. He yanked off his shirt and hovered over me as he stripped the blanket away. My fingertips released the last hold of cotton that separated me and him in a final act of trust.
This is me. This is my body. This is how I look naked. This is what my pussy looks like, and the shape of my breasts. This is how I look laying down…. not in some Instagram-worthy angle.
And he paused, looking me over from head to toe.
“Er, let’s get you off first” he said and shifted back to my side. I blinked, now really caught off guard. “Huh?” I thought to myself, “isn’t this the part where we fuck??”. He tried to rub my clit, but I was so distracted and nervous that I faked an orgasm. He knew, and I knew that something had shifted. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, (and the fact that I’m blunt by nature), I turned to him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, covering myself with the sheet again. I sat up in bed, crossing my legs. What came next was a statement that nothing could have prepared me for.
“I don’t usually fuck fat chicks” he said quietly.
I felt my eyes grow wide. I know my mouth popped open. I sat stunned for a moment unable to breathe. What did he just say to me?
“Wha–….. what?” I stammered. He finally met my eyes. “Look, you’re nice. And I get that you want a friends with benefits thing. But…. you’re too fat” he said and gestured over my body. Anger flashed through me but was quickly replaced by sorrow. I was naked, ashamed, and now felt suddenly alone. I admit that I balled my eyes out in front of him, so much so, that he tried to hug me but I moved away. Gathering my things, within 15 minutes I was gone and driving home. I didn’t want to eat. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I felt mortified.
*** The Moral of the Story ***
Look, there will be people out there who will tell you that physical and sexual attraction matters. And to a certain degree it does. But never, EVER let your heart be shattered by someone who doesn’t think you’re hot or fuckable. If someone deems that you’re not their type, then you probably missed a bullet flying your way. You want someone who is attracted to who you are, versus what size you wear. You want someone who will give you aftercare and love you for all the right reasons, regardless of what you look like.
Maybe it’s unusual that I really do judge people by what they stand for, and not what size they are. I don’t care if a man has a six pack or a belly. I don’t care what size penis you have. I don’t care if you have long hair, or short hair, or any color skin of the rainbow. I care if you’re kind, loving, honest, loyal, and humble. I care if you treat people well, wherever you go. I care if you’re mature and up front with your feelings. That is what matters to me!
Be who you are. Love who you are. And forget about the haters. ❤
Stay tuned for the next blog post, and I will see you all back here tonight!