Flavor of the Week: The Accidental Chubby Chaser

A FEW DATES into what would become our relationship, I determined that the look John gave me was a sort of hungry admiration. Not that he ever let himself get too hungry. The guy had never met a cheese plate he didn’t like.

We’d sit across from each other at restaurant tables covered in rich foods, always with at least one appetizer that he ate most of. He seemed smart, kind, creative and hardworking when he cared about something. But I noticed his eyes were too close together and his mouth—its default setting being open-mouthed chewing—was too small for that full face.

And oh, how hard I fell for him. Months later, I’d tell a girlfriend who found one guy a comb-over away from being awesome to stop being so shallow. “No one will love you like a chubby guy,” I insisted. “Maybe balding guys work the same way.”

Don’t get me wrong. John wasn’t ugly. He just wasn’t someone I’d have ever given a second glance before. I was grateful that I’d met him at a time when I wasn’t looking for Prince Charming.

It gave me a chance to be charmed by someone I’d never have expected it from. I was fresh out of a relationship with an ex-boyfriend who liked to point out when my butt looked fuller or my upper arms a bit flabby. He’d had his own caloric struggles, while I’ve always been underweight. Sure, it was projection, but I lost part of my innocence. No one had ever told me I’d look better taking up less space. John told me I was beautiful, and I believed him. He taught me to eat dessert, opening my palate and my heart.We would take a lot of cabs and lay around in bed—and this is not the point in the story where I mention that I gained some weight. I didn’t really. Not much. Instead, I felt lighter than ever before. Completely happy with this man who loved me for who I was, me in love with him the same way.

But old pictures of John without the double chin-covering beard startled me. I felt no physical attraction to that person. When I looked objectively at new, bearded pictures, I realized that the man in them wasn’t the same as the one I loved away from the camera. In person, I found John handsome, if not a conventional beauty.

Was he just really unphotogenic? I don’t think love is blind, but I’m pretty sure it works like Photoshop. Of course, I’d noticed how surprised his friends looked when they met me for the first time. We wouldn’t score the same number of points if our looks were rated by passersby, that’s for sure. One person put it in a somewhat polite way: “Wow. I think it’s cool that you and John are the exact opposite physically.” I developed a keen interest in why everyone was talking so much about the guy Jamie Lynn-Sigler was dating at the time, and how he wasn’t as attractive as her. What was the big deal? Love is about love handles and pores and finding someone to embrace your beauty and your blemishes.

Still, I encouraged John to take better care of himself. He’d managed to get through college without ever having seen the inside of a gym.

One Saturday, John went to his first—and last—yoga class with me. I told him he could take a mat a few rows behind mine and just copy my poses. He pretended to be open-minded. In the first few minutes of downward dog, I watched (upside down and from between my legs, no less) as he stepped off his mat and left the class. He decided to grab brunch instead. I thought John and I had long-term potential, but things started to crumble. For one, he was the least romantic person I’ve ever dated.We once had an argument in which he told me that he should be able to take me for granted. I wouldn’t even let Jake Gyllenhaal do that.

Other things started to leave a bad taste in my mouth, too: the emotional immaturity, the lack of effort and, yes, the openmouthed chewing. I wondered if we could work through our troubles, but John was ready to give up.

And what did I do as soon as John left me, came back crying and tried to leave again, attempting to bargain our relationship into one of “friends who sometimes make love”? (That’s restaurant-menu speak for “fuck buddy”.)

Well, first I laughed in disbelief.Then I cried. I started to chase until I realized that I’d quickly overtake this one.

Now that I’m dating other people, I can’t help noticing that I’m scoping out the huskier dudes. I haven’t gone on dates with any endomorphic body types yet, but I’m open to the possibility if they can prove themselves kind, loving, smart and funny over the long haul.

Amanda Green is still open-minded about her future Mr. Right—as long as he lives in Manhattan or Brooklyn. She writes about her misadventures in the city at [www.noisiestpassenger.com](http://www.noisiestpassenger.com/).