Flirting

I'm a big flirt.  I've always been a big flirt. 

These last few years my flirtations have fallen on deaf ears for the most part.  I smile at men on the street and their eyes slide right over me.  I get saucy with a man at a bar or in a line and he suddenly has urgent messages on his phone. 

And it's not just flirting and men!  Women completely ignore me in conversation. I have asked random women to please hand me something or pass something my way and they simply glance at one another as though I were a ghost.

I can say, "Excuse me," to a person who is blocking my path and they look me up and down with a general look of distaste, then they shift about an inch.  Really?  You just looked at me and you think an inch is enough room? There is a general consensus that yes, an inch is plenty of room for my fat ass to squeeze through as an inch is usually all I am allowed.

Things like this have always bothered me, mostly because I have this aspect to my personality that makes people talk to me.  Random people on the street will tell me their life story, people in line at a store will explain about their underwear problems, my seat-mate on a train will have no problem talking about their sex life.  But if I make the approach, or if I am the one requesting, people often completely ignore me.

The amazing thing about being a fat woman is that the bigger you are the more invisible you become.

And this is especially true where flirting enters the picture.

It can be a little funny, watching a guy try not to visibly freak out when I flirt, watching him search for a hasty exit without being too rude. But only a little funny.

So I was completely caught by surprise when a man flirted with me on the train the other day!  I didn't really know what to do with myself.

I have seen him before on the train and he always catches my eye and smiles.  I hadn't really thought anything of it, until the other day.

We were standing in the scrum to get onto the train when I noticed that the man I was standing next to had his attention on me.  I glanced up at him to find him looking directly at me, a slight look of surprise on his face, like he'd been looking for me and I just happened to appear.

"Hi!" he said with a smile.

"Hi!" I replied. 

He then proceeded to block a path for me to get onto the train before him.  I smiled and thanked him (it was quite gallant) and got on the train. I entered through the door on the left but I turned right to go into the opposite car.  I found my way to a seat by the window.  As I settled in I noticed that he had followed me into the opposite car and was just sitting in a seat a row away facing me, but positioned so that he could see me between the seats.  I smiled at him again as our eyes met and we sat.

"Surely this is a coincidence," I thought. "He can't be following me."

But he was.

As the train made its way toward the city I settled in to enjoy my book. Every so often I would glance up to catch him looking at me. We were too far away to chat, but I always smiled.  So did he.

When we finally arrived in the city he tried to remain seated while I made my way into the aisle but a very polite woman insisted that he go in front of her.  When he reached the bottom of the short stairway in the train he turned to look for me and he smiled such a smile when he saw that I was looking at him.  I actually blushed (I never blush).

As often happens in New York we were separated by the crowd heading up into Penn Station and we lost each other on the upper floors, try as we might to keep each other in our sights. 

I must admit it was the most amazing feeling.  To be flirted with and smiled at and to feel his energy flowing at me.  The feeling stayed with me all day, making me giddy and effervescent.  I couldn't put a finger on exactly what the feeling was, but I liked it.

Then yesterday I was dealing with one of the move-an-inch-out-of-the-way people, sighing as I tried to explain, yet again, that my body is too large to fit through that tiny space, and I realized what that feeling was.  I have become so used to being invisible, so used to being derided and ignored, that I had forgotten what it felt like to be me. 

That feeling that I felt was the feeling of being me.

I am the same me I have always been; the same flirt, the same sass, the same ... me.  In all the illness and drugs, and with all this fat that I have become I had forgotten that feeling. I had forgotten what it felt like to get that kind of attention from strangers.

But a man flirted with me on the train.  He made a path for me, smiled at me, made sure he always knew where I was.  He reminded me that I like being me. 

He smiled at me, and I remembered.

Nice

So it turns out that there are still nice men out there in the world.

He reached out to me a few weeks ago, chatting about our mutual commuter woes.  He is one of the only men who didn't immediately jump to discussions of sex or lewdness, instead making me giggle about our shared interests.

When I sent him my standard just-to-let-you-know-I'm-fat-so-you-don't-freak-out-later text, he is the only man, so far, to respond with, "Why do you think I reached out to you?" I almost died.

We started chatting and agreed to meet for dinner at a local restaurant, at which we ended up laughing and talking for hours.  It turns out, he is a complete gentleman.

We have gone on several dates since, chatting and laughing all the while.  He is incredibly nice and he treats me really well.  I'm not at all used to this.  This is a whole new world for me.

First of all, he refuses to let me pay for dinner.  He has taken me to some very nice places and he won't let me pay!  Even when it had been decided prior to the date that I would be buying him dinner, he grabbed the check and wouldn't hear of it!  What world is this?

He doesn't laugh at me when I go all Fan-Girl about a book or show, even going so far as to encourage it.  And I am a super geeky Fan-Girl.  My ex, while a Fan-Boy himself, thought it was a tad ridiculous for a chick to be such a fan.

This man didn't look askance at me when I explained that, while playing fantasy RPGs, I like to play as a thief, sneaking around and shooting foes from afar with my bow and arrow.  He thought that that was a perfectly logical choice and didn't try to convince me otherwise.  Most men think it odd that I like to play fantasy RPGs to begin with.

He doesn't think it strange that I like Marvel movies and shows, or that I can hold deep, philosophical discussions about Star Wars.  He just goes with it.

He teases me in the best ways and makes me feel like a girl.

He loves my body!  He prefers larger women and he thinks I'm sexy.  He tells me that I'm "super cute."  He says, "You are so hot!"  And he means it!  Baffling. 

He sees me!  He sees me and he likes me anyway.

But the best thing about this man, so far, is that he took me on the perfect date.

He picked me up in the late morning and we headed out to a place about 20 minutes from my house.  He chose this place, he said, because on our second date he mentioned something called a gastro pub and I had never been to one.  It was a lovely spot that used to be a train station so the architecture and ambiance were really cool.  We talked and laughed with ease through the meal.  As we exited the pub I pulled him close and briefly kissed him, a chaste moment to thank him for the meal.  He smiled at me like I was the most amazing thing. I was really taken aback by his look, I don't think any man has ever looked at me like that before.

He took my hand and we started walking around the neighborhood a bit.  As we came to a corner he said, "So, I really brought you here because I wanted you to see something.  I want you opinion of it."

"OK," I said, totally curious.

We turned the corner and I came face to face with an honest-to-God, old-fashioned, beatnik-employees, hand-written-signage, get-lost-among-the-stacks bookstore! He brought me to a bookstore!!

I may have teared up a bit.

We went inside and began to explore.  I was in awe, exclaiming about the smell of the books and the haphazard arrangements.  I kept looking at him and saying, "You brought me to a bookstore!"  It was amazing.

You have to understand, this man doesn't read for pleasure.  We had talked about books for maybe two minutes on our first date and he could feel my passion for them, so he brought me to this wonderful place filled with books!

We wandered through the stacks, laughing about some of the titles we came across.  I was giddy with delight.  He stole kisses in the corners, hiding from the other shoppers like we were teenagers. It was unbelievable.  And the way he looks at me!  It's like he's never seen anything quite like me - half desire and half confusion or awe.  I really like the way he looks at me.

I have never been on a date like this, where I was the consideration, I was the focus.  He went out of his way to give me something he knew I would love.  What world is this?

We spent the whole day together, talking, laughing, kissing, and it was amazing.  This man, this man, took me on a perfect date.

We have seen each other a few times since that day, and will hopefully keep seeing each other.  He really is so nice.

I called my best friend to tell her all about the date, about him, and how weird it is for a man to treat me like this.  I was complaining that he wouldn't let me pay for dinner, even when it was the plan, and she just laughed.

She said, "Katy, it's about time that a man was nice to you.  Now, you just have to calm the hell down and let him be nice to you!"

"But..."

"No... no, no... you have to let him.  I know it's weird, but just let him.  This is how real men behave."

His world is ... complicated ... but I like him.  I really like him.  I like how he treats me. I like that he's so nice to me.  I like that he's gallant and won't let me pay for dinner (even though it was the plan!).  But I'm not at all used to this kind of treatment.

I am especially not used to a man who looks at me and sees.  He notices things, he remembers moments.  He sees me and he likes me anyway.  

And he brings me to bookstores.

I know that I haven't been doing this online dating thing for very long, and I know that I have met some ... interesting men (some serious doozies, I'll tell ya), but this man is different.  He's kind, and intelligent, and thoughtful. He's funny and interesting. I find him fascinating.

And he seems to like me and he has no problem showing it, which is also new territory for me. He holds my hand, he kisses me, he touches my face.  Seriously, what world is this?

I like this man.

I love spending time with him.  I hope to have many, many more dates with him (and I will find a way to buy him dinner if it kills me!).

I don't want to rush into anything, I don't want to overwhelm either of us, so slow and steady it is.

I had no idea that there were men like this outside of fiction, at least men like this who also like me.  But this man, this man, exists.  And he is kind.

And so I will do my best to allow him to treat me well and I will go out of my way to treat him well in return. Of course the old insecurities resurface, the feeling that I don't actually deserve to be treated well or with respect due to my size or my past, but I'm trying to stomp them down as best I can.  My best friend keeps pointing out that I believe that everyone deserves to be loved (which is true). Then she has to remind me that I am also an everyone. 

I try to imagine that I deserve to be loved, that I too deserve happiness.  Most of the time I just accept that I've done something, or been something than negated that option.  This man makes me think that there my in fact still be hope for me.

He looks at me and sees.

And he likes me anyway.