A Weighty Issue
About a month ago I met Unbalanced Rude Guy (aka URG). Now, URG was not so unbalanced and rude on our first three dates; in fact, he was quite charming, but there was something about him…something odd. Example: he told me that I should quit smoking, as it is a sin, as my body is a temple and I should not poison it. Yes, I get that smoking is not good for me, but hold back on the damnation, dude! After date three he asked me very personal questions about my dating history, religious beliefs and my view on various other random things – which I would not necessarily discuss on a third date.
Last night we went for dinner, it was pleasant and the conversation was flowing nicely. We spoke about business opportunities, investments and houses – it was a nice grown-up conversation. Out of the blue the conversation turns and goes like this:
URG: I really like you. You’re beautiful, really, your eyes and smile are so pretty. You have the most bubbly personality and you are kind-hearted. You really light up a room, do you know that? You’re the first girl I’ve met in a long time who can hold her own in a conversation and you’re financially independent. You’re truly smart too, I like that…
ME: But? (I could just sense the BUT coming)
URG: Well, you need to lose about 10 kg’s before I will date you. Maybe you should just take some diet pills or something.
More silence. Sound of fork being put down. Take a sip of wine. More silence.
Well, what the f*ck am I supposed to say to that?? All those movie scenes where the girl throws her wine at the douchebag and it splashes into his face flashed in front of my eyes. Mentally I prepared myself to get up, leave him with the bill and as a parting comment say: “ I guess we won’t be having dessert then.” In reality it went more like this: I was quiet some more and then he said:
URG: I’m not trying to be nasty, I’m just honest. I like you a lot and you are everything I want in a girlfriend, it’s just that I have this thing in my head, this picture of my girlfriend – I like fitness models, you know?
ME: uh huh
URG: Look, I can tell you have low self-esteem and I’m fine with that, I don’t mind girls with low self-esteem. I can see right through this mask you have on, you’ve got such a soft heart, but don’t worry, I won’t ever use that against you. (SILENCE) Look, just lose 10kg’s and then you will be perfect. Get some of those diet pills and go to gym more.
ME: Waiter, bill please.
URG: Are you angry at me? I’m just being honest. Why are you angry at me?
ME: I’m not angry at you. You’re entitled to your opinion.
URG: Are you angry at me? I can tell you’re angry at me. Look, if you want to, just get up and go, just leave money to cover your half of the bill. I don’t want you to leave.
The bill came, I paid my half, he tipped badly. I walked out, he asked me for change to pay for parking. I gave him change. (In hindsight, I should have kicked him in his crotch, but no, I actually gave him money for parking)
URG: When can I see you again?
ME: Look, URG, I believe in love. I believe in crazy, ridiculous-all-consuming love which doesn’t have an IF or BUT. I will love you IF and I like you BUT, that’s not love, that’s not even like – that’s you trying to mould me into what you think I should be. I believe that someday a guy will want to have me so desperately that he would sit through The Notebook and all five seasons of Sex and the City with me. He would adore every little imperfect bit of me. He will even love me when I get pregnant and really FAT. You are entitled to your opinion and I hope you get what you want, I also have a checklist and some things are non-negotiable. I get that! But… I will not be a second option, either you choose me, or you lose me. So please, hear me, your beliefs does not make you a better person, your behaviour does. Clearly, today is not someday, and you are not that guy.
There you have it…I’ve told this story to so many people now and everyone’s reaction is the same.
I’ve laughed so much since last night. At first I honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry – I think this must have been the worst thing a guy has said to me in a long long time. Well, ever. When I started laughing about it, I couldn’t stop. I thank God for my sense of humour and my fairly healthy self-esteem. I think URG is bi-polar (I know that he has been on anti-depressants for about 18 years) or there’s something else really wrong with him. He likes me, but I’m too fat to date, but then wants to see me again. Pffft…men.
I got to thinking about my calm and measured reaction to what he said, because I probably should have made a scene in the restaurant and told him off properly, then stormed out and slammed a door or something. What I realised is that some guys are not even worth a hissy fit. I honestly could not care less how fat he thinks I am, and that, Single Ladies of the World, is a victory right there. (HIGH FIVE!!) Last night I remained cool, calm, collected and most of all, classy. So, here’s my outrage and hissy fit: He can go FUCK himself because surely, no one else is going to.
FOR THE RECORD I WILL STATE THE FOLLOWING: I am NOT fat (anymore)
Dear Future Husband, gosh. One day when we’re old and wrinkly and you tell me I’m beautiful, I will rub your bald spot and tell you all about URG. Then we can Facebook stalk him and send his wife (if he finds one) a gift basket filled with chocolates – just to put some meat on her bones.