I had a conversation with my aunt today about a boy I knew in high school. She said something that really struck a nerve and I have to get it off my chest.
We’d had a somewhat special relationship and I was filling her in. She was curious about why we’d never dated and she asked me how I thought he felt about my weight. It never seemed to be an issue. Then she said the one thing I always fear when it comes to guys I care about:
“Well, he would care if you were dating. It doesn’t matter how big you are when you’re friends but when you’re dating it always matters,” she said.
Ouch. Straight to the jugular. I sat in stunned silence thinking about what she’d just said. It’s quite possibly my biggest insecurity knowing that there’s plenty of potential partners in my world who fancy the pants of me but wish I was a more socially acceptable size…the Curse of Curves I call it.
See, this friend and I were great friends when we were young, quite close and spent a whole lot of time together. We’d go to parties and sporting events and hang out on school nights ‘watching movies’. We were pretty great at ‘watching movies’ together and frequently did so until he moved away. We never officially dated and our real relationship wasn’t public. (Although I was the victim of the odd cougar joke since we spent so much time together at school.)
At the time, I would have said the secrecy was down to the fact that I was a senior and he was a freshman and I didn’t want anyone to know I was a cradle robber. He was my ‘fun friend’ and it was just between us.
But, I’m not entirely sure he would have wanted many people to know either. I mean, I wasn’t special, he had movie nights with other girls (and I hasten to add that it certainly never seemed to bother him what size any of his other girls were). I knew about them and it never bothered me. I had other ‘movie nights’ myself. So, I never drew any boundaries or put any pressure on him for anything other than fun. Neither did he. We were young. We never even talked about it.
I’d like to say that if I’d wanted more I would have asked for it but sadly, that’s not entirely true. I’d recently been burned by a boyfriend that seemed to be ashamed to date me in public so I really would never have pushed it if I’d thought it meant I wouldn’t get to spend time with him anymore. But I also had an issue with his age that I couldn’t get over. Then he moved away. Thinking about it now, I know our relationship was never any more or less than either of us wanted but that doesn’t mean it was all that healthy.
I still see him occasionally. We’re still great friends and I feel safe and happy when we’re together. I wish I had the courage to talk to him about it but since he’d never intentionally hurt me, I couldn’t be sure he’d tell me the truth anyway.
So, the curse remains intact. For now…