Surprise you're fat!

Holy Shit.

So lately I've been not blogging because 140 characters suited the type of information my daily life was producing, unless that information comprised links to YouTube music videos.

Now I finally have something 'big' to write and oh the irony of that statement will soon become apparent.

I went on an internet date last night. Yee-fucking-hell-haw right? I've gone on a few of these before, they are usually okay, sometimes they are painful, on a few occasions, they have been pretty damn fun. This one was actually pretty amazing.

He was funny, smart, got me, was handsome, etc,.. We had a great time, so great that I broke with tradition and invited him back to my place for a bit of a wrastle, in the sheets if you know what I'm saying.

I was straight up though about the fact that I don't do sex on first dates so as cuddlesome as we got the pants stayed on.

Weirdly my dog Lola, who is an excellent judge of character was not impressed with my date, in fact she was acting the weirdo all evening, pacing and staring, sneezing and burping, doing everything she could to keep the 'love vibe" from progressing unimpeded.

After a few hours, I realized I was way outside my comfort zone, fooling around with some man I had only met hours earlier, and we called it quits. He was incredibly charming and nice about it all, I thought to myself "what a catch".

The next morning I awoke to a one line email "You're awesome" it said.

I spent the day happily wandering around downtown Toronto, looking for work shoes and hoping to spot the zombies.

When I got home there were 3 more messages from my new swain. One about a comedian we had talked about, one cryptically referencing some shallowness and proposing a trip by car to New York in January.

The last email I opened (and the first one my 'date' had posted), was a long glowing email about my 'awesomeness" how smart I was, how funny, how pretty, how passionate. ya de ya de ya.

This came with a disclaimer however, as according to my date, he liked slim women, and my weight would become an 'issue'. Were we to start sleeping together on a regular basis, he would soon start to lose interest, I would be frustrated and eventually we would unhappily break up.

He still thought I was 'awesome' however, and would love to hang out again.

Yeah, "hello you're great, but also fat."

I am not going to try to argue against his preference. I have never really been involved with someone as white (read W.A.S.P) as this guy was and I think partly the reason for that is because in my experience they tend not to go for girls with my figure. I dig it, you're a tall lanky guy from the UK and you want to date a tall lanky woman such as yourself.

But DUDE WHY DID YOU COME BACK TO MY HOUSE THEN. Have a brain, wait for a second date, see if it's real or just say, "you know what we should probably just be friends". I am a grown-up I can take it. What I can't and won't take is people making inappropriate, judgmental and to be frank, downright unkind remarks about my body.

It's mine, I love it, I'll continue to love it long after I have forgotten you even existed, so go crawl into a hole.

Sigh, I feel a little better now. There's no way that could have been compressed into 140 characters.

ADDENDUM

While one my way to a friends house to play some restorative Rock Band, I listened to this song by the Lunachicks about 6 times.

Will, if you ever happen to see this, thank you for a wonderful evening followed by some serious douchebaggery. If you want to imagine me smacking you in those lovely lips of yours while listening to this I'd be delighted if you would.

SECOND ADDENDUM

In case any of you are wondering what the fuck is the big deal: Also on my way to Rock Band night, I noticed that for the first time in almost a decade I was looking at all the women I passed using that fucking scale. You know the "skinnier then me", "fatter then me", "prettier then me", "uglier then me" scale. The scale that I used when I had an eating disorder, the scale I also used when I didn't think I could do anything but wear extra large tee-shirts to hide my chest. That scale. Thanks again Will, for reminding me that it never totally goes away.