Apologies, Stranger
An open letter to the stranger in my DMs who didn’t get a speedy reply in time.
Hello Stranger,
The little game of our non-verbal interactions came to a close a few days ago. Apologies for not immediately responding to your DMs. I have vague memories of the first one, laughing to myself that yet another older man was somewhat interested in me. I’m getting older myself, so, shouldn’t I just take the leap when a potential admirer comes around? Shouldn’t I be happy about that? Ah yes, the excitement of adding a little social spice to my life, without major commitments.
Nothing was promised, and no one owed anything. This exchange was really sort of one-sided. Yet my lack of responses seemed to create a small hint of urgency. Baddie I am not. A very small collection of people see me as “their type”, and some of them tend to treat women such as myself as just an easy conquest. Compared to others who have turned them down, we are assumed to be desperate, accessible, and wide open. We allegedly have no type, and it’s a policy of taking all comers. It’s the unfortunate part of dating or seeking casual encounters while also being of size. It is also why I don’t leap at every compliment, like, or flirtation. Been there, done that, wasted my best body glitter and lace on it.
Let’s not start throwing stones, stranger. There are a lot of unknowns in this situation. When I first saw your friend request, I scanned your profile page and sort of liked what I saw. You were a handsome, older(ish) man who knew what he wanted and liked in a woman. Straightforward is awesome. A little cringe at the “alpha” stuff, but some men really are alphas in terms of kink and not the overdone grift persona of today. In other words — I don’t fully know who you are, and you only know about a certain side of me. I laid a lot out in my profile for a reason — I wanted to weed out time wasters. Go BBW or go home.
Your first DM was charming. A little overdone, but appropriate for the intentions laid out. I can’t explain why I didn’t instantly respond. How do you respond to some hot and shirtless guy telling you he’ll be “at your service” (in ways I refuse to repeat outside of an erotic paywall)? I’m not tooting my own horn here, but most men I have encountered have said this to me in some form. Sorry to destroy the fantasy, but out of all those meetups…only 2 actually delivered. It sounds awful, but the fact of the matter is that those that failed had an underlying agenda. They didn’t deliver anything but a lot of fluff.
They expected the frumpy little plus-sized lady to be over the moon from the attention. They got theirs, but getting mine was off the table. Again, the fat woman conquest is often about seeing us as the bottom of the barrel. Or, a fetish to thumb through like a cheap magazine. I was supposed to put on a show with jiggles and wiggles, honey. Big bear babe energy. I don’t mind putting on any kind of bedroom show for the right person. That’s liberated, grown folk's fun. What I don’t like is all the build-up and the selfishness of partners who never added up in the first place. Again, wasting lace and glitter on this big body ain’t where it’s at.
“Big bear babe energy” is all about celebrating who I am. Standing tall, feeling sexy, and embracing my bear-like frame. Having a man around for it is nice, but I’m still gonna strut and be free regardless. Jiggles, wiggles, and chiffon tickles.
You have to be a bit of a jerk, sometimes, to protect yourself and your time. You might get blocked for it, they might call you names, or the DMs go cold. I’m sorry that I didn’t immediately leap at the sight of that message. A mix of introversion, cynicism, and about a million other real-life tasks had me bound up. Had I initiated, where was that going to take us? Maybe I’m thinking a bit too much about a casual situation, but my days of leaping before a long look are in the past. If I’m doing anything — casual or serious — I’m thinking it over before I say hello.
Maybe that’s uncool. Maybe that’s something that will ensure that the rest of my living days are dry and… solo-handed. But dang, dude — that second message was sort of stupid. Any thoughts concerning responding nicely were slowly starting to fade away.
“Are you too good to talk to one of your fans?”
Well, shit, friend — I didn’t know you were a fan! Let me get my responses in order for the fan, man!
I make a lot of content across various mediums. Haven’t seen an order from you in that bunch. CashApp hasn’t gone off, my sad little fundraiser still stands at zero, and if you’ve been reblogging me on Twitter then it must be an invisible posting. A fan? My notifications have been silent this whole time. A fan of what? Where? I don’t recall seeing you anywhere else but on that one site.
I’d like to think that a fan would have known of me for a little bit longer than the few minutes they saw me in the user search. Fans support, shout out, and contribute. Fans usually get the vibe of my personality. I would hope that a fan would understand that maybe I have other things going on.
“Fan” was a reach, and I wasn’t flattered. Unlike the first message, I was not overthinking my next move. I didn’t feel it at all and just deleted it. Why I didn’t block and delete you at the same time is a mystery. Maybe a part of me wanted to respond. There I go, giving chances to strangers who really don’t deserve it.
I don’t know what part of fuzzy loc’d, introverted aspiring writer sounds like I think I’m too good for anyone. I spend a lot of time trying to mind my business. I might have moments of trying to look pretty or becoming an outspoken persona of myself, but I have a galaxy full of flaws that could easily bring me back down to Earth. What I am, stranger, is a woman trying to get by. I am a middle-aged nobody with a burning desire to become somebody through writing and hard work. I’m a screwball trying to fix the messes I made in my 20s, damn it. Too good, where? Because I’m protective of myself? Because I didn’t answer you when and how you wanted? Oh honey, you might be an alpha…but this switch don’t play that.
I don’t do aggression. I don’t like to feel pressured. Especially when we’re talking about any kind of interaction or potential intimacy. The second message wasn’t long, but it was the energy behind it. My goodness, people have lives. People aren’t online all the time. If you’re anything like me, sometimes conversation isn’t the easiest thing. I like to warm up. I feel like being online at least gives me the space to think of what I’m going to say without needing an instant answer right away. I realize that even online, sometimes time is of the essence. In this case, however, it was all about gettin’ some. You are not the only man online.
Let’s take this apart. I get that the current state of dating and encounters is rough. A lot of women are standing up for themselves and not just giving in to the basics of conversations and gestures. A lot of women are wild pieces of work themselves, out to play harder games that some men tend to play. Some of us are somewhere in the middle. That can be frustrating for impatient men or folks with fast agendas. It can be disheartening for the introverted and sensitive. Trust me, even in the realm of casual encounters, I get it. When you want what you want, you don’t want any speedbumps slowing you down.
I know that some of us seem like total bitches with impossible standards when all we want is quality. The same sought-out quality that some men seem to brazenly throw at us in equally long-ass profile paragraphs. This is why I’ve been in my own corner, to begin with. I’m building my own table from lumberyard to assembly line.
I’m not trying to act like anything I currently am not. If we’re being honest, sometimes the wood is on fire. Sometimes it’s moldy. Hell, one summer the termites got to it. Whittling has come apart, tools have broken, and let’s just say that right now I’m on strike. Along the lines of casual encounters, I’m not trying to hook anyone in for romance. Isn’t that the point?
I wholeheartedly support the younger women who deeply value themselves by way of standards and strong self-esteem. I just want to say that I’m not coming out the gate swinging to be a bitch, but to assume that I haven’t said anything because I think I’m “too good” is stupid. If we owe nothing to one another, maybe I’m unsure about responding. DM tennis, random crotch pics, outrageous requests — the way some people escalate things is just not my style. Especially with the potential of a selfish meetup. Bro, I took off my favorite loungewear. If I’m gonna be looking cute, something good better be happening.
I don’t think I’m “too good”, but I don’t think we’ll be meeting up for coffee and erotic aerobics any time soon. I have a right not to engage with an energy I’m not feeling. If it’s that serious, why even continue to message me? I’m not the only big woman online.
I didn’t respond. Cleared the message, and closed the convo. I did all of it while taking one glance at your smiling face. White teeth, beautiful skin, bald head. Who knows what could have gone down with patience? I did not respond, thinking about my ex and how he had enough humorous skill to put Prince songs into his first message to me. How I at first deleted it but later responded. I took a chance. I don’t regret my time with him, just like I don’t regret missing out on…whatever…with you.
It has taken far too long for me to know my worth and double it. I’m not turning back.
“Damn, so I guess you are too good to talk to me.”
Again, I haven’t said anything rude to you. I haven’t said anything positive or negative. I have given you complete digital silence. I was on the fence. I hopped off. You approached me, and I decided not to respond, and it had nothing to do with whether or not I thought I was too good. What does that even mean? Off to block land you go, dude. Assuming is a turn-off. The random semi-aggressive behavior, in blue-ish terms, is a coochie closer. That is, if you even had a shot at ever meeting up with me. With all the wild stuff that makes for ID Channel documentaries and 20/20 Friday nights, we might not have gone too far in the first place.
I don’t mind talking to admirers or so-called fans, but usually, they give me something to talk about. They are regulars who understand that life happens. Even if there is an interest, most of them don’t push the boundaries and expect some elaborate response. Now, let’s go there for a minute — that’s probably what you wanted. I am not impressed by every man who says they like fat women. It’s sadly a dime-a-dozen thing that is either very sincere or very wobbly because people think we’re so easily caught. Because we’re often alone, because we’re all starved (allegedly!) for attention. Because we better take what we can get in a world that does not hold back on being cruel to us, but shame on us for having standards and self-esteem.
Oh honey, let’s go there.
I can assume the very worst about you too. I don’t think I am “too good”, but I am too tired of empty conversations and meaningless meet-ups. If I’m throwing on body glitter, sensual perfume, and my lacy best, I expect a good time. If you’re really about that plus-size life, then you’re expecting a good time as well — a fabulous experience with an interesting woman who’ll throw on a little Prince and show you what’s good under a blue light. I’m not bringing out my best from some starved fat woman place. I’m not giving up any part of myself to somebody who chooses me or my sisters due to assumptions of loneliness and easy availability. Honey please, I could just as well be at home ruining my eyes and wrists playing Final Fantasy Tactics for the 900th time. I have a backlog of stories and tie-dye projects just waiting for my touch.
Life goes on, babe.
Enjoy yours.
~Veronica
About the Author: Veronica is a native Chicagoan who currently lives in a small Tennesee town. She is an Ad Evaluator for Telus AI. In her spare time, she dabbles in novice photography, basic tie-dye, and light poetry. [Contact Info]
