The Thrill of the Chased

I’m not used to being chased…it’s definitely a new, interesting and quite frankly enjoyable phenomenon that has come with increased confidence, and a loss of approximately 5 stone. Which the winner is here, is anyone’s guess. Confidence is attractive I agree, but I’m leaning towards the more aesthetically pleasing svelte size 10 figure…I digress.

As I was saying. I’m not used to being chased. I was the one chasing for many years, it was a role reversal I was not comfortable with given my extremely fragile ego and a phobia of rejection. The chase was not thrilling for me, at all. It would often end in tears, whether I was successful in my pursuit, or not.

If I was unsuccessful for whatever reason, I took it very, very personally. I felt humiliation, bitterness and utter self loathing. No one liked me because I was fat. I was destined to die alone with a houseful of cats.

I didn’t get it. I get on with men famously; I have a lot of male friends…was I always going to be friend zoned? Even the men I knew who would rather be with the wrong person than be alone, chose to be alone rather than be with me. I know, such self pity…it’s not attractive, is it?

When I was successful in snagging a man for a night, it was equally destructive. I won, but I lost at the same time…the guys were just using me. I knew it, they knew it…but I always hoped that it wasn’t the case. That he’d see that inside the squishy, buxom exterior I was actually awesome; funny, smart and caring. But they never did. My ego got a stroking when I managed to capture a man that was way out of my league for the night, but shortly after came more self loathing and more self pity. They took me home because I was their best offer that night. Some were nice enough to keep me as a friend with benefits; they threw me a bone and I was happy with the scraps.

I was ‘seeing’ one guy for an entire 3 months before he finally told me he simply didn’t fancy me. He didn’t even like me. At all. Never did. Three months. Can you even imagine how strong my denial was to get through 3 months without really realising I was being utterly taken advantage of? How deep in the gutter my confidence was? Perhaps I did realise, I just couldn’t accept it. Wouldn’t accept it. Without him I was truly on my own, and there was no worse punishment then spending even more time by myself – I hated myself. My looks, my personality, my weight, my life. All of it.

It was all a vicious cycle, and eventually it broke. I decided enough was enough, I was tired of being mournful and cynical and hateful. I was sick to death of hating myself and everyone else. In counselling I had a breakthrough; I realised I used my weight as a big, massive size 18 barrier against the world. I craved closeness, but I was sabotaging my chances of being happy with myself and sabotaging the chance of finding someone who could love me by getting heavier and heavier and eating more and more. It was a mental buffer made physical.

So after having a serious 3 hour sobbing session, I joined the gym, I put myself on a diet and I finally after many ups and downs and a couple of years of plateaus, I hit my target weight. My confidence, although not sky high, has reached levels I never thought were possible whilst cowering in my deep, dark pit of despair.

And now, the men are the ones doing the chasing! I can sit back and enjoy having drinks bought for me. I had dates with 4 different guys one week and all of them wanted to see me again. What a weird experience that was. Very weird, very unusual for me, but very awesome. I can pick and choose who I see again, who I like enough to consider a second date with, and who’s worth my time as it’s pretty precious these days. It never crossed my mind I’d be able to pick from a lineup of guys, never. And here it is. A shedload of weightloss and a huge helping of personal growth along with it. Life can be kindof awesome these days.