Too Fat, so There

Thank you for coming tonight. 

We are indeed talking about coming, tonight. Or as it’s called in more polite circles, sex. 

So thank you for coming. Be thankful for coming.  But before we get to the coming, we have to get to the sex. 

I think I’ve milked that joke as far as it’s going to be milked.  

We need to start tonight, this session of couples therapy, by an admission from me that I’m talking about sex from a man’s perspective.  I have to. I am not a woman now, now have I ever been one.

The court said I have to start every one of these adult behaviour sessions with that disclosure.  

Having said that, tonight might be useful to women because it will give those of you in the audience a clearer sense of what men are thinking. 

Indeed it may be news to many that men are thinking at all. So there, we have made a good start.

First question a man meeting a woman is asking is this…

Not: Are those real?

Not: It’s a good thing her family has money…

Not even: Her friend said she was a bit desperate and as I’m already desperate, this might work out quite well… 

No.  The question asked by every man, and this reflects the sensitivity of the male animal, that question is: How will I know she likes me? How will I know she likes me?

Tonight, I can provide you with the definitive answer to that question.  She tells you she likes you by feeding you. 

It’s that simple. 

First, it will be something small… a potato chip, the corner of her biscuit, something you had for lunch that’s still on your face.

And she picks it off and pops it in your mouth.

God, you’re such an attractive guy. That’s my observation—not hers. Not yet. 

But know this: it’s not about the food being put into your mouth, it’s about the intimacy of her touch, her fingers to your face. It’s sharing, it’s surprising, it’s wonderful.  

She likes me. That’s what you’re taking away from this. Right?

It gets better..  Soon you’re sharing the same meal, one plate- two people. And she’s putting entire forkfuls in your mouth, hashbrowns, wads of McDonalds fries…

Her birthday cake, her friend’s wedding cake, her grandma’s 900th birthday cake… right? 

You are in, my friend. She really, really likes you.  

So good! So romantic! To die for!  

She’s now making your favourite meals, slathered in tasty treats and exotic sauces. Big, fat country potato chips on the side. You wouldn’t want to leave anything on the plate, that would be rude. 

By the way, they call this comfort food, and that’s because you are getting very comfortable with this.  In fact, if you thought about it – which you won’t, gentlemen, you’re getting very comfortable in that chair. 

Very comfortable. Five or ten, maybe fifteen kilos extra weight more comfortable. In a very short space of time. 

Now, if you could just for a moment—could you put down that bowl of chips just for a minute, please.  Put it down and listen for a moment. Look at me, not the TV…

Let’s just think about this for a moment. 

We are now seeing quite a bit more of you, because frankly, there is quite a bit more of you to see.

But by corollary, we are seeing a lot less of your friends. Work friends, the guys, the old gang. And more particularly, other women, … they kind of faded away while you were sitting here getting comfortable eating that ice cream and whatever else you’ve been stuffing in your face.

This is not coincidence gentlemen. This is not just that you had to make some hard choices about how and where you spent your time.  And with whom. 

Then it strikes you. Christ! This attention, this intimacy, this attraction…

She’s not feeding you because you could fill out a little, become less a boy and more a man.

She’s not feeding you in that primal expression of mating couples across the animal kingdom.      

She’s not feeding you because she cares, because she loves you.

She is feeding you to fatten you up. But why? Why?

She’s feeding you – I’m going to say this slowly, gentlemen, ladies she’s feeding you to make you unattractive to other women.  This is the plan. 

That’s been the plan since that first little potato chip got slipped into your mouth, since her sweet little finger picked that lunchtime leftover off your cheek and slid it into your big fat mouth.  

She’s feeding you to make you unattractive to other women. 

Every French fry and baked potato, every bit of nanna’s birthday cake—all women are complicit in this conspiracy—every bit of it was designed to make you too fat to fuck. 

By other women. 

And the plan is working brilliantly… 

Ah no… but thanks. Not the man I knew. Nothing like it. Turned into a couch potato. Sad really… We coulda, you know. Bit of chemistry there….  

Oh baby, she’s got you now.  

The upside to this is that you, and I’m looking around the audience tonight… you know who you’re going home with. 

This is heaven right.