My Life as a Chubby Chaser

Why I prefer a quivering jelly belly to a (blech) six pack.

May 24, 2011 at 4:02pm | Leave a comment

image

When you look at some chiseled 22-year-old Adonis, do you actually feel something inside? I feel nothing but a vague disdain for the many hours he’s wasted when he could have been watching perfectly good TV, primetime TV.

No, I prefer a different sort of man, the kind who looks like he prefers Budweiser over Bud Light and knows the joy of licking Cheetoh dust off each orange-encrusted finger. Those belly-only shame shots on local news broadcasts about growing obesity rates are like my porn. I am a chaser of the chubby.

It started with Jon Ice, fellow member of the Quiz Bowl team, player of Star Wars themes in the school talent show, gloriously hefty. He made my palms sweat, even after the time he suggested I stand up straight, because I didn’t need to be self-conscious about my fat stomach. It was a misguided adolescent attempt at sweetness that only made me want to kill myself slightly. He asked me to a school dance, I agreed, then panicked after taking a ribbing from some other students and feigned a fit of anemia (I don’t know, I said I panicked) to get out of it. I’m sorry, Jon Ice, wherever you are, I really thought you were hot.

As an obese young adult, I felt frustrated when none of the pudgy objects of my affection wanted to grope my Taco-Bell-inflated 44DDs. I guess I can’t really complain after what I did to Jon Ice, but in truth I still feel a resentment over all those overweight dudes who expressed no interest in a good-to-go fattie like myself.

 

image

Fat guys are actually often less likely to date fat women than normal-weight dudes, like if they do so the world is going to sit up all of a sudden and go, “Wait a minute…I never noticed before, but you’re fat, too!” So I pined, and covertly made out with the occasional stick-like film student, ejecting him before my roommates were up.

I lost 100 pounds in college, but my preference for chubby men was not melted away with the excess poundage. I had several monogamous years with a perfectly round radio DJ who unfortunately had a terrible personality. I nurse crushes on Zach Galifanakis, Kevin James, Donal Logue, Seth Rogen. I talked fatties with Isaac Mizrahi. I yearn for the day that bear culture explodes over the waistband of the gay community and I can stop lurking on  Chubarama.net.

A fat guy just looks like he enjoys life, like he says “yes” when offered something delicious, whether it’s a bag of Doritos or a late-night tryst. He looks fun! When I’m playing with a man whose body is not perfect, I don’t worry about whether he’s looking at the loose skin hanging off my belly when I’m on all fours, or if I’m crushing him when I put my leg there. I know I shouldn’t worry about that stuff any time, but I like getting naked with a man I can see has deprioritized perfect bodies in favor of other things – his job, true love, Hostess cupcakes.

Making love to a fat man is like doing it on one of those ergonomic chairs -- just comfortable, and well-cushioned if you want to try out weird stuff and are afraid you might fall over.

And the compensation theory of sexual skills is controversial but real – Ask any overweight woman about her blowjobbing skills, and let a fat man expertly find your clitoris. There will be nothing to regret.

I'll just be trolling the gay websites for hot chubbies with their shirts off.