It’s time for another Cary Tennis column!
Actually, while I usually think Cary gives crappy non-advice, I do think he got this one right. First, the letter:
Dear Cary,
Currently I’m dating a man who just won’t leave my consciousness, not for a moment. I think of him all the time. He’s pretty special.
My problem is this: This wonderful man with whom I’ve shared some amazing moments and do share a phenomenal connection … he’s overweight. He’s not merely out of shape or a hike and a swim away from fit, he’s fat.
I’ve made a conscious effort to look past it (“it” being my own stupid, shallow, superficial, counterproductive reaction to the weight), but there it is, all of the time. In bed, he’s attentive, very strong, wonderful — we enjoy genuine chemistry — but even when the lights are out I find it difficult to navigate his flesh. I’m a smallish person stature-wise; it’s difficult for me to wind around a man with what little leg I’ve been given, never mind a man the size of one and a half men.
Worse yet is I fear being a selfish lover, because I don’t fantasize pleasing him the way I would ordinarily with a slimmer man. I’m intimidated, daunted and generally unprepared for certain activities.
I don’t know what to do. It’s a turnoff. And worst of all, part of the reason it’s a turnoff is that I see myself with a head-turner when the lights are on. I’ve always been with striking men — not pretty boys, but men who had that quality; after all, it’s that quality which turns my head in the first place. And this man just doesn’t light my fire in that way. I’m attracted to nearly everything about him but his size. So he doesn’t light my fire, and doesn’t feed my ego in the company of strangers. I hate myself even for admitting it; it’s just so superficial.
Am I trying to convince myself that we have a future together? Is there any way I can get past my bias and enjoy this person for who he is in total?
Weighing in, in Washington
I give the letter-writer points for recognizing that she’s the one with the problem. But I don’t have much hope for this working out. Bedroom logistics aside (and that is a real departure, especially if she’s not accustomed to larger men, and may require some getting used to, though I’m not sure what it is she finds so daunting), she’s just not attracted to him. She talks about his “size” being the problem, but really, she just doesn’t prefer fat men, no matter how great they are. And that’s fine. But if she doesn’t, she doesn’t belong in this relationship. Because she’s going to be trying to force herself to be attracted to him in spite of his weight, or because of all the great things about him other than his weight, but his weight will always, always, be at the back of her mind. And who needs that? Better that she find a man she’s really attracted to so that she can spare herself the mental gymnastics required to walk down the street with the guy and not be worrying that someone will see them together. And he deserves someone who finds him attractive as well as a terrific guy.
Here’s Cary’s advice:
Dear Weighing in,
You haven’t gotten this far by pretending. You’ve gotten this far by being straightforward and honest, and I suggest you continue being straightforward and honest.
This is harder, of course, because we are freaked out about fat. It is one of our crazy things. It goes deep. It has its paradoxes and corollaries as well — we are freaked out about skinny, and we are freaked out about food, and the planet, and the body and money and exercise and power. We are a freaked-out culture. We are all freaked out.
The fat man knows this.
If you are a fat man in America you cannot help noticing that people are freaked out about fat. People will suggest exercise bikes. They will feed you lean portions. They will say to each other, “It’s his fault, and it’s disgusting; he must have no willpower; he must eat the wrong things; he must be repressing something; he must not respect himself.” And what does the fat guy say? He says, Yes, thank you for that astute observation, I have indeed noticed that I am fat.
He then suggests that Weighing in meditate, without judgment or self-reproach, on the question of whether she thinks this is a deal-breaker or whether she wants to give the relationship more time.
What I like about Cary’s advice in this case is this: he recognizes that she’s being honest, and he gives her an honest answer — which includes a reminder that fat people are quite aware that we’re fat. (You’d think that would be a no-brainer, but given the people who pop out of the woodwork in any discussion on fat, whether or not it’s related to health, and start screaming that FAT PEOPLE MUST BE TOLD! ATTENTION, ATTENTION MUST BE PAID! THEY’RE FAT! THEY CAN’T POSSIBLY HAVE EVER BEEN INFORMED OF WHAT THEY’RE DOING! AND BY THE WAY, THEY NEED TO KNOW THAT I THINK THEY’RE DISGUSTING! — well, talk about people who need to be informed. Yikes.)
And I also like that he tells her to forgive herself and not judge herself for not being attracted to fat men. This is something I feel pretty strongly about — if you’re not attracted to fat people, you’re not (of course, that’s not the same as acting as if fat people are stupid, or disgusting, or what have you merely for existing). And this includes fat people, too. One thing that came up a few times in comments to this post was the idea that someone who’s fat themselves shouldn’t reject fat people as romantic partners. But that sounds almost punitive to me — well, who are you to have your own preferences? You’re fat, and you’re lucky to get attention from anyone — you’ve got no call to be picky! It’s not like gaining weight changes the nature of your attractions. I’m someone who likes both large and smaller men, but if I didn’t like larger men, why should I feel that I had to find them attractive? It’s not like there aren’t smaller men who like bigger women out there.