Most Popular Tags

Hooray for Boobies & Other Fat Lady Tales

✏ 38 year old cis female ✏ Fat ✏ Married ✏ Crazy Cat Lady ✏ Opinionated ✏ Swear-ey ✏ All caps silliness ✏ occasional pretendy writer ✏ LJ immigrant ✏ Journaling since 2006 ✏ Ex chatroom /forum role player ✏ Now on Tumblr ✏

Aug. 13th, 2007

elf_fu: (dumbass)
I was an impressionable twenty two year old who still thought that I would crumble and fall apart if I didn’t have a relationship. I was living on my own and had enough money to pay the bills and occasionally eat. The library was the place to go for the internet at that time.

The dating pool of where I worked was drier than four cases of hair-of-the-dog-morning mouth. There wasn’t any way I was going to find a date here.

The friends I knew were acquaintances at best and asking them if they had any friends looking to date would have been disastrous. They were all too worried about how fast they could poison their liver, fuck some random person picked up at a bar, and what Random Girl and Random Boy where doing, with who, how many times, and where, OMG.

So I thought I would take matters into my own hands and try an online dating service.

Let me repeat that phrase, so that you can read it and savor that slow sinking, omfg no way feeling most people with common sense should have when reading things like that.

I thought I would take matters into my own hands and try and online dating service.

Yahoo! personals to be exact.

(Pause for your maniacal laughter and lulz.)

I was ever so young then, in a not-good way, and I was easily taken in. I met a guy that I’ll call Pug. Pug’s photo wasn’t bad at all. He was Canadian Native, with long pitch-black hair that curled about the tops of his shoulders in his picture and he had beautiful skin. Dark brown eyes behind silver rimmed glasses sparkled with the bright and wide smile displayed in the image.

I was a little flattered Pug had answered my personals, even after I had chosen “overweight” as my body style and listed pretty blatantly that I was in fact, a very big geek. So we started chatting it up pleasantly online, I find out that he’s sort of a geek too, and one thing lead to the inevitable: he asked if I’d be interested in a date.

I replied sure, why not?

(Foreboding violin music here.)

I told him to pick me up in front of the Library where I lived. I was strapped for brain cells and didn’t want a total stranger to know where I lived. (NOoo! I just wanted to get in some strangers car instead. Totally safe thinking, Mel!).

Standing in the parking lot I was excited and nervous. This would be my first official date of any sort, as the last time I’d been with anyone it just ‘happened,’ with no questions or answered needed. This time, it’d be an adventure! Maybe romance would happen, maybe not! It’ll be fun! I went all out and had purchased a brand new skirt and blouse. The skirt was a royal navy in background with bright floral prints; the shirt square necked flattering, with matching, tiny flowers in the same floral print colors as the skirt around the neckline. Dark blue, I had been told once, made my eyes stand out more as well as flatter my hair.

A few moments pass by, then a few more. I’m suddenly more nervous than excited. What if he’d gotten lost? What if he stood me up? What if I’d missed him somehow? What if he was trying to get a hold of me but I wasn’t online?

I decided to go inside and see if I could book a computer after thirty minutes had passed from the time he’d stated he’d come pick me up. As I was at the counter speaking to a Librarian someone entered, walked behind me and continued into the library as if looking for something. I paid no heed, it was a Library, stuff like that happened!

Turning to go check out a few books while I wait my turn, I get a chance to finally see the few in the library.

A kid in headphones using the computers to talk to someone via instant messenger; a couple of girls with heads bent over their books at a table and an overweight, dark skinned man flipping through books and eye balling the entrance. Cue me double-taking because the guy looked familiar, like I should know him.

Read more? Click here! )
elf_fu: (dumbass)
Previous Chapter


Once outside the library I was blinded momentarily by the summer sun. It was a beautiful day, warm enough you could wander without your coat yet cool enough that you didn’t wish you were dead. It was like that sometimes in Alberta; a Chinook could ride through and change everything.

Blinded as I was, I didn’t really pay attention all that well to the vehicle Pug was leading me too. This is something I should have taught myself to do when younger; pay attention. It would have lead to less internal screaming at me.

It was a beat up, banged up, dented, rust spotted diesel VW Rabbit that waited beside its master, Pug, when my eyes cleared and I was able to see in the light. The Rabbit looked like it had seen better days. Its driver side door was not the same, charming barf-beige as the rest of the peeling, scratched paint on the body, but a nice borrowed-and-primed gray. One headlight had duct tape surrounding it, I assume to keep it in or in place, the hood was crooked so that there was an uneven gap between it and the grill, and the back seat of the car was visibly filled to the ceiling with clothes, garbage and random shit.

Much like my earlier moment with online dating service, let me once again repeat to you the last line of above paragraph, so that you may fully enjoy with me the sort of hair-raising reaction persons with any marginal sense of cleanliness would have—

The back seat of the car was visibly filled to the ceiling with clothes, garbage, and random shit.

Panic is a strange thing in humans. Those fight or flight responses we sometimes get when we know we are in danger tends to take a hold and the two instincts fight with one another. Half of me said I should totally grab my own stomach and say something about my ovaries dropping an egg, the other part of me took on my grandma’s voice and told me: you made your bed. Now lay in it. Besides, it’s just one night. You don’t ever have to see this person ever again.

I can’t tell you why I didn’t go with Plan Ovary )
elf_fu: (dumbass)
Previous Chapter


In the middle of asking a lot of questions about me with him staring at my tits and with me nervously babbling away because I wished I was dead; the VW began coughing black smoke.

This was enough to shatter the false sense of warmth I had slowly returning by chatting about things that I loved, poetry, music, clean cars, bathing regularly, kitties, painting and writing. I turned my eyes in the standard, cliché impression of deer-caught-in-headlights toward the crooked hood of my charming puke-beige colored carriage and with all my might, hoped and prayed that black smoke did not bode ill.

I was still doing that when the engine stalled completely, Pug cursed and we began to coast on the highway with trucks, cars and bikes passing us and beeping.

I stopped hoping when the car rolled to a complete stop on the side of the road and the silence, broken only by the sound of other lucky motorists whizzing by us on that long, deceptively bright stretch of endless highway. I spent a lot of time pretending that my clothes needed to be straightened, fussed at or pulled right while he spent a lot of time staring bleakly out the front window, interspersing it with a few slams of a palm again grime blackened steering wheel.

After five or so minutes, he apologized profusely, got out of the car and went to the hood to open it.

“No problem!” I say, SUPER HAPPY. Because I didn’t have anything left in my cold, hollow soul but that false cheerfulness which I wished that someone would have strangled me with.

I was regaled with the view of the puke-beige hood being lifted up, and hooked, the beauty of black rolling smoke against a cloudless unending prarie sky and the sound of a man who knew absofuckinglutely nothing about cars poke, cuss, and prod at the engine.

I’m sure he tried many manly things in an attempt to get it working again. I don’t know, because eventually early afternoon droned on into afternoon, the sun shifted like they did in any bad spaghetti western shot over the wheat, and I was beginning to wonder why I didn’t just bash my forehead against the window for sheer amusement.

Then I remembered who I was with and why it would be a bad idea to be unconscious.

I didn't want to be raped. )
elf_fu: (dumbass)
Previous Chapter


Pug’s brother picked us up well after the tow-truck had come and tugged the puke-beige with gray driver’s side door VW diesel Rabbit away.

Pug’s big brother, Decent Guy, was not Native Canadian, but an older man with curly blond hair and bright blue eyes. He had a single dimple when he smiled and, while only dressed in a white cotton shirt and jeans, was clean. Magnificently clean.

Decent Guy drove one of those huge, chortling four-seater cabbed trucks that you had to work to find the piece of metal to place your foot on and haul yourself up by a handle bar to get in. I didn’t mind. In fact, I was so happy to get into the spotlessly clean cab that I didn’t even notice there was Some Other Guy in the front passenger seat across from Pug’s brother.

It wasn’t until I had my seat belt on and was smiling like a vapid blond that had just been told she won the concentrate awards from staring at a bottle of orange juice that I noted the presence of a fourth human.

I was so fucking overjoyed to see not ONE, but TWO clean people that when Decent Guy and Some Other Guy started talking to me I went all out. I forgot about Pug and put on my awesome Mel Pants. I made jokes, said silly things, talked about them, the weather, partying and everything in between. I was alive with the cleanliness within the cab! Decent Guy’s truck smelled like…A truck! No lingering scent of stale Cool Ranch Doritos, no spare shirts wadded up in the corner with chocolate bar wrappers. I was in heaven and I wasn’t left alone with Pug.

Decent Guy then asked Pug where he was originally taking me. Pug mentioned some establishment’s name which I wasn’t familiar with. We were heading into Calgary, after all, and Calgary, like any city to a country bumpkin girl is HUGE. I didn’t know what the names for half the restaurants, bars, or places were. And, I didn’t care—because Pug asked his Bro’ if he wanted to come along and that meant I didn’t have to be left alone with Pug in this place either.

I could have cried if it wouldn’t have looked so utterly out of place and utterly insane to these men who’d picked up some strange, if not nicely dressed lady with Pug.

The car ride went great; I was in my element talking to humans that responded, ribbing and joking with a bunch of guys that seemed decent. The time it took to drive wherever it was the now completely silent Pug recommended became a blink of an eye, compared to the forever it was being stuck with him on the side of the highway.

We pulled into a place that had cars nearly filling every parking lot. There were a great many of kids. (I thought of them as kids, yet they were all the same age as me at that time. Early twenties—but it’s the weekend and all they want to do is drink them selves senseless. By the time I’d hit my twenties, drinking and partying had become distasteful. I wasn’t interested and not into the bar scene.) They were coming from their cars in droves and I get out of the truck with silent Pug and Decent Guy, chattering all the way.

The building is shaped like a barn, but it’s one of those restaurant things—where it’s just supposed to look like one. The paint, the structure, the cement, the windows and the neon signs all remind you that it’s an establishment of some sort and isn’t really a barn at all. In my curious inspection of the building on my way inside I happen to look up and read the banner hung outside.

It read: Wing Night. All you can eat Wings, 99 cents. Draft 1.00$ a glass or 12.00$ for a pitcher.

99 x holy shit do you ever stop eating cents later. )



When people ask me today about what I think of online dating web sites (not to be confused with online dating, actually), I wish I could open my brain and tell them this story as well as the hundreds more there are out there. Suffice to say, I will never recommend it, no matter how many “dimensions” they match you up with your future date.

And to think, this was the very first series of events that led up to me reacquainting myself with Shawn, my future love of my life and now Husband. This experience also forced me to realize that always being nice was a part of always getting myself in these situations.

Sometimes, you have to be a little mean for self preservation of sanity.

Sometimes, I think over the things I've done when younger and wonder if I even had any to start.

And, [livejournal.com profile] joecifur reminded me: What's YOUR internet dating/meeting horror story? I dare you to tell it!
elf_fu: (Soap butt)
Sometimes when Shawn is talking to me about any given subject, be it his day at work, his thoughts, this neat thing found on the internets or anything else, I do odd things.

I think my golden moments are when he turns away in mid conversation to do something and I reach down and grab the bottom edge of my shirt. I take the bottom edge and raise it over my head, then, by the time he's turned around to continue talking, I've grabbed my own boobs and have begun to juggle them.

I encourage you to do this next time your S.O. is in a deep, meaningful conversation with you. It helps if you make sound effects, or hum some circus music.

Me: "I should make peanut butter cookies."
Shawn: "Oh, yes. That makes sense. 'Let's eat less. I only ate two Burritos for supper, and now I'm having fiftety cookies.'"
Me: "...Fivety?"
Shawn :"Fivety. It's half of eleventy."

Profile

elf_fu: (Default)
elf_fu

May 2017

S M T W T F S
  123456
78910111213
14151617181920
2122232425 2627
28293031