OK, my dear friends, what would you do???
There’s this girl I like, let’s call her Vanessa. That’s not what I call her IRL, because that’s not her name; but we’ll call her ‘Vanessa’ here. OK?
So, it’s like this: I like Vanessa and she likes me. Neither of us considers the other ‘sweetheart’ material; but she’s smart, and affectionate and fun to be with and; well, let’s put it this way: I could do a lot worse for company on a Saturday night!
Vanessa, let me assure you, is very pretty and, by conventional standards she’s quite shapely (which means, of course, that by my standards she’s ‘petite’. Extra-petite, actually; but, like they say, beauty comes in all sizes!)
At any rate, I took Vanessa to a club last night. Fine South American food, full bar, snazzy tropical ambience, live Latin music. Good times, right? Let me tell you, Charon’s Aide knows how to show a girl a good time!
What made the atmosphere even more pleasant was the presence of so many Plus Sized female diners. The club’s entrees are famous for their extra-large portions (which is why Vanessa and I stuck to the appetizers) and there were plenty of lovelies there who looked liked they’d have no trouble cleaning their plates.
You get the picture, I’m sure. Plenty of gals, packing plenty of curves. Yummy! The most interesting table of all was the one right behind us (which I could oogle while I pretended to be looking at Vanessa.) Four super gorgeous girls, and none of them looked like she was a stranger to cream sauce. One beauty, however, really stood out from the rest of her competition. I couldn’t help noticing, when she was struggling to squeeze into her seat, that she had an absolutely spectacular back cushion. Once she got herself arranged as well as could be expected, I took note of the way her beautifully sexy face was set off by her well-endowed double chin.
This girl knew how to show herself off. She wore a sleeveless top that supplied the admiring eye with the sight of two very generously dolloped upper arms. Man! I really have a thing for super soft, super sized arms and dimpled elbows. Let me tell you, folks, this girl had it going on and she clearly knew how to ‘work it’.
I found myself daydreaming about this glorious vision even while I was chatting with Vanessa. I tried to stop “thinking with my dick” as they say, and keep focused on the personable albeit slender woman I was actually with. But it was really hard (Hey! get your mind out of the gutter!!) to keep my eyes off the fantasy-come-to-life who was just a few feet away. I found myself wondering whether she had a feeder and — if she didn’t — how I could apply for the job.
Vanessa, I should explain, had her back to these four buxom babes and, since she hadn’t noticed them being seated, had no idea she was as close as she was to so many all-stars of corpulence. Eventually the girl I was particularly taken with had to excuse herself to use the bathroom and, as she waddled past, Vanessa’s jaw literally dropped.
“That lady is sooooooo fat!” Vanessa announced.
“She sure is,” I said, smiling.
Strangely, though, Vanessa wasn’t smiling at all. In fact, her expression was all revulsion.
“That’s not healthy,” Vanessa said, shaking her head slowly. “All that weight is a terrible strain on the heart.” Vanessa placed her hand over her own heart; but I could tell she wasn’t actually concerned about the woman’s coronary health.
“Vanessa,” I said sternly, “you should never make a remark like that about another person’s weight. It’s rude.”
“Rude? Well, I think it’s rude to sit around stuffing your face and letting yourself get as big as her.”
Well, there went the whole evening! I called for the check.
“I thought we were going to dance,” Vanessa objected.
“I’m sorry. I thought we were going to make a night of it but I have a crushing headache.” I had a headache all right, and Vanessa had given it to me!
Well, Vanessa was hurt and she must have known I had more on my mind than my “headache” when I drove her home in stoney silence.
“Is everything OK?” she asked, when I returned her to her house.
“Yeah,” I lied, “I just feel sick as a dog.” (Not far from the truth, actually.)
So, as I said before, “What would you do?” Should I just let Vanessa quietly recede out of my life, or should I call her up and give her a good ‘talking to’?
I’m all ears!