Why did they run away?
I've been on a few chat/sex/dating sites before now. Anybody remember Free-I? I've chatted/dated a few women from those sites as well as just meeting on the way to work, on a bus, at the grocery store or just about anywhere else. Since I prefer thick women, I've invariably had to deal with the question, "How big is TOO big?". Well for the record let me say, the first turn-on is smarts and then style. Now just walking down the street, I'm not gonna see your head and go, "She must be smart!". But I can see your style. It may be your hair... big points for hair. It may be the way you're walking or the type of jeans you're wearing. Are you wearing them or are they wearing you? If you are wearing me out, well then, I wanna know more! My latest ex asked me once if the jeans she was wearing made her butt look too big. I quickly replied YES and where can we go get about 5 more pair? Maybe it's your smile or the look of concentration on your face. If I know you're thinking about SOMETHING then we can have and hold a conversation. So if I'm standing there in front of you trying to start a conversation, how could you be too big?
I talked to one young lady for about 3 years. We lived quite a distance apart. So we started chatting, begin emailing, continued telephoning and IMing and snail mailing and just about every other form of communication, except for meeting. I was laid-off and she was in school for about a year during that time and money was tight. She had mentioned how she wanted to get gastric bypass surgery and the approval process was grueling, but she never mentioned HOW big she was. So, I decided to take the last of my unemployment money, rent a car and drive up to Massachusetts to see her and hopefully make a go of it. She told me everyday how she wished I was there and how much she wanted to be with me. I couldn't go a day without hearing her voice and wanting to meat, er, meet her. So off I drove to see my baby and try to get her to come back with me and see what I was working with and maybe make a go of it. I didn't know what I was going to find and at that point, I didn't care. Better than 16 hours I drove my happy ass up there. Gas wasn't too bad in 2002, although I thought it was then. I arrived and called her. I had told her the day before I was sending her a package and she needed to stay home to get IT when IT arrived cause being the weekend they would only make one attempt. I knew the address from all the other stuff I had sent over the years(Birthdays, Christmases, Valentine's day, just-because-day, for her and her 4 k**s) but for the life of me I couldn't find the house. So I had to call and come clean. She laughed when I said I was in town but couldn't find her street and told me to stop lying. I assured her I was serious and told her what street I was on. Less laughingly she said I could get that off a map. As I tried to explain I was serious, a passing ambulance confirmed my story. She could hear it in the phone and out her window as I could her it out mine. It was the end of August, hotter than July and I was up for over 16 hours. I had no jokes left in me. The realization sunk in as she began to exclaim Oh My God, over and over again. <CLICK>
I sat there for a moment figuring what just happened? Did she faint? Battery died? Did she drop the phone and run out to the street to find me? Was there another guy there? Was SHE a GUY? Was I hallucinating the whole thing? I called back. Straight to voicemail. I waited. I drove around looking for the house. Now totally exhausted and confused as hell, I pulled into a CVS d**gstore parking lot. Bladder about to burst, head spinning and eyes watering, I started to think even worse things. I dialed once more... voicemail full.
I started to look for a place to go. A motel or someplace to lie down or something. As I got to the skirt of the driveway parking lot, my phone rang. She was inconsolable. All I could really make out over her bawling and her k**s wailing was, "I'm sorry, I don't want you to see me like this!". I told her I couldn't care less about what 'like this' is, I came to see you. She started to hang up. I asked if she could at least tell me where to find a cheap motel as it was getting dark and I had lost my bearings. After a bit she agreed to come show me a place but it would take her a bit to get ready and get there. An hour later she pulled in the parking lot, the two youngest k**s with her, faces glued to the window like Garfield. Before the car fully stopped, they jumped out and ran over to me, squeezing me so hard my eyes turned yellow. Walking was hard enough without these young Albatross clinging to me, but I managed to get over to her car. She wouldn't get out. The k**s were talking a mile a minute as she sat silent. She had a ball of tissue in her hand, clutching it close to her ample bosom. Her long, Black, wavy/curly hair almost completely pulled down over her face. I wasn't sure but she seemed to be trembling or vibrating as if she was going to bolt and at any second drive over the curb and race off, if not for her k**s being out of the car. My eyes watering made the image unclear. We talked or mumbled for a moment and agreed I should follow her to the motel.
When we arrived I went in to see if they would take cash. All I had were 50's and not many of them left. When I came out, her daughter was stroking her Mom's hair, much as I had imagined I would be doing by now. Her son was standing by my rental, clutching a model car I had sent for his birthday. He and his Mom had put it together and he painted it all by hand and was just as proud of it as he could be. It was a better job than some experienced modelers could have done. I asked her if she would be alright driving back. She nodded to the affirmative. The ball of tissue now looking like a sponge. I thanked her for coming and showing me the way. For the first time she turned to look at me fully and she really had a cute face under all the hair and crying and all. She put the car in reverse and then drive and as expected drove right off the curb to get out of there, k**s waving woefully in the back window as she sped off. I stood stunned for a moment thinking I drove all this way, spent all this money and I hadn't even kissed her. Must be allergies got my eyes all watery again.
Finally broke into the motel hell room, went to use the bathroom, light half on, flickering like something out of a Dean Koontz novel. Started to get my bags after peeing for about 3 minutes. What is wrong with this A/C? Blowing hot air? Hotter in the room than outside! I put my camera bag on the bed and something moved! FAST! So I moved fast to get my stuff out and back into the rental. I had to call the cops to get my money back. I found a Howard Johnson and parked in the lot til the Sun came up a few hours later. I called my girl to see if she had any change of heart. Naw. Asked if I could come get the webcam I bought for her that she could never "figure out" how to get it to work. Sure.
In the light of day, I could see where I missed my turn. Maybe it was meant to be. She came out of the house and stood on the landing. Really bad part was, she wasn't a big as I had imagined or expected. In fact, she was almost just right. Big ole butt, hips and thighs, juicy arms and her hair was working me out. I got out and walked up the steps to the landing. She still looked puffy around the eyes, but a small smile crept onto her face. I thanked her for the camera and for coming to guide me to the room, though I didn't mention I hadn't stayed. I gave her a hug, one last look and headed back to the rental. I waved as I turned out the drive, although I was mad as hell. I made it to the turnpike entrance ramp. At the light waiting to turn, the phone rang. Honey, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. PLEASE come back?(k**s wailing in the background) The light changed. I turned onto the ramp, got my ticket and punched the pedal to the floor.
While it isn't universal, the same scenario plays out over and over again. When I start to get serious or just too close to the BigGirl, she bails. I'm in no way unfit. I'm a decent guy with a decent look and a decent salary. I'm only indecent in the bed. One BigGirl I dated said one day how she had been working her ASS off. Her profile pic was one of her butt in a painted-on pair of jeans. So I said to her, "There is NO amount of work you could EVER do to work THAT ass OFF! She took offense and ended it via voicemail. She felt insulted. One other BigGirl, after repeated questions of how big was the biggest girl I ever dated were asked and answered, reneged on even meeting because she "had to protect her heart"! Maybe she wasn't getting dumped because she was overweight, but rather because she was underbright or just plain crazy?
So now the question I have to ask, if you've decided to read this far, is, How Big do you FEEL? Do you give credit to yourself for ALL you are worth? Do you really know how many good men CRAVE BigGirls? Just look at the views counted on these videos and the most watched in the headings. You've gotta know that
I talked to one young lady for about 3 years. We lived quite a distance apart. So we started chatting, begin emailing, continued telephoning and IMing and snail mailing and just about every other form of communication, except for meeting. I was laid-off and she was in school for about a year during that time and money was tight. She had mentioned how she wanted to get gastric bypass surgery and the approval process was grueling, but she never mentioned HOW big she was. So, I decided to take the last of my unemployment money, rent a car and drive up to Massachusetts to see her and hopefully make a go of it. She told me everyday how she wished I was there and how much she wanted to be with me. I couldn't go a day without hearing her voice and wanting to meat, er, meet her. So off I drove to see my baby and try to get her to come back with me and see what I was working with and maybe make a go of it. I didn't know what I was going to find and at that point, I didn't care. Better than 16 hours I drove my happy ass up there. Gas wasn't too bad in 2002, although I thought it was then. I arrived and called her. I had told her the day before I was sending her a package and she needed to stay home to get IT when IT arrived cause being the weekend they would only make one attempt. I knew the address from all the other stuff I had sent over the years(Birthdays, Christmases, Valentine's day, just-because-day, for her and her 4 k**s) but for the life of me I couldn't find the house. So I had to call and come clean. She laughed when I said I was in town but couldn't find her street and told me to stop lying. I assured her I was serious and told her what street I was on. Less laughingly she said I could get that off a map. As I tried to explain I was serious, a passing ambulance confirmed my story. She could hear it in the phone and out her window as I could her it out mine. It was the end of August, hotter than July and I was up for over 16 hours. I had no jokes left in me. The realization sunk in as she began to exclaim Oh My God, over and over again. <CLICK>
I sat there for a moment figuring what just happened? Did she faint? Battery died? Did she drop the phone and run out to the street to find me? Was there another guy there? Was SHE a GUY? Was I hallucinating the whole thing? I called back. Straight to voicemail. I waited. I drove around looking for the house. Now totally exhausted and confused as hell, I pulled into a CVS d**gstore parking lot. Bladder about to burst, head spinning and eyes watering, I started to think even worse things. I dialed once more... voicemail full.
I started to look for a place to go. A motel or someplace to lie down or something. As I got to the skirt of the driveway parking lot, my phone rang. She was inconsolable. All I could really make out over her bawling and her k**s wailing was, "I'm sorry, I don't want you to see me like this!". I told her I couldn't care less about what 'like this' is, I came to see you. She started to hang up. I asked if she could at least tell me where to find a cheap motel as it was getting dark and I had lost my bearings. After a bit she agreed to come show me a place but it would take her a bit to get ready and get there. An hour later she pulled in the parking lot, the two youngest k**s with her, faces glued to the window like Garfield. Before the car fully stopped, they jumped out and ran over to me, squeezing me so hard my eyes turned yellow. Walking was hard enough without these young Albatross clinging to me, but I managed to get over to her car. She wouldn't get out. The k**s were talking a mile a minute as she sat silent. She had a ball of tissue in her hand, clutching it close to her ample bosom. Her long, Black, wavy/curly hair almost completely pulled down over her face. I wasn't sure but she seemed to be trembling or vibrating as if she was going to bolt and at any second drive over the curb and race off, if not for her k**s being out of the car. My eyes watering made the image unclear. We talked or mumbled for a moment and agreed I should follow her to the motel.
When we arrived I went in to see if they would take cash. All I had were 50's and not many of them left. When I came out, her daughter was stroking her Mom's hair, much as I had imagined I would be doing by now. Her son was standing by my rental, clutching a model car I had sent for his birthday. He and his Mom had put it together and he painted it all by hand and was just as proud of it as he could be. It was a better job than some experienced modelers could have done. I asked her if she would be alright driving back. She nodded to the affirmative. The ball of tissue now looking like a sponge. I thanked her for coming and showing me the way. For the first time she turned to look at me fully and she really had a cute face under all the hair and crying and all. She put the car in reverse and then drive and as expected drove right off the curb to get out of there, k**s waving woefully in the back window as she sped off. I stood stunned for a moment thinking I drove all this way, spent all this money and I hadn't even kissed her. Must be allergies got my eyes all watery again.
Finally broke into the motel hell room, went to use the bathroom, light half on, flickering like something out of a Dean Koontz novel. Started to get my bags after peeing for about 3 minutes. What is wrong with this A/C? Blowing hot air? Hotter in the room than outside! I put my camera bag on the bed and something moved! FAST! So I moved fast to get my stuff out and back into the rental. I had to call the cops to get my money back. I found a Howard Johnson and parked in the lot til the Sun came up a few hours later. I called my girl to see if she had any change of heart. Naw. Asked if I could come get the webcam I bought for her that she could never "figure out" how to get it to work. Sure.
In the light of day, I could see where I missed my turn. Maybe it was meant to be. She came out of the house and stood on the landing. Really bad part was, she wasn't a big as I had imagined or expected. In fact, she was almost just right. Big ole butt, hips and thighs, juicy arms and her hair was working me out. I got out and walked up the steps to the landing. She still looked puffy around the eyes, but a small smile crept onto her face. I thanked her for the camera and for coming to guide me to the room, though I didn't mention I hadn't stayed. I gave her a hug, one last look and headed back to the rental. I waved as I turned out the drive, although I was mad as hell. I made it to the turnpike entrance ramp. At the light waiting to turn, the phone rang. Honey, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. PLEASE come back?(k**s wailing in the background) The light changed. I turned onto the ramp, got my ticket and punched the pedal to the floor.
While it isn't universal, the same scenario plays out over and over again. When I start to get serious or just too close to the BigGirl, she bails. I'm in no way unfit. I'm a decent guy with a decent look and a decent salary. I'm only indecent in the bed. One BigGirl I dated said one day how she had been working her ASS off. Her profile pic was one of her butt in a painted-on pair of jeans. So I said to her, "There is NO amount of work you could EVER do to work THAT ass OFF! She took offense and ended it via voicemail. She felt insulted. One other BigGirl, after repeated questions of how big was the biggest girl I ever dated were asked and answered, reneged on even meeting because she "had to protect her heart"! Maybe she wasn't getting dumped because she was overweight, but rather because she was underbright or just plain crazy?
So now the question I have to ask, if you've decided to read this far, is, How Big do you FEEL? Do you give credit to yourself for ALL you are worth? Do you really know how many good men CRAVE BigGirls? Just look at the views counted on these videos and the most watched in the headings. You've gotta know that
14年前
