by Dawn Steele
She heard Lyla come in. Lyla was anything but silent. Whenever she entered the room, it was as if a mini-tornado swept in. There would be mutters and curses (if she stubbed her toe in the dark) and the sound of keys and a purse being thrown onto an armchair. Then her clothes would come off with more curses (if her bra clasp got stuck).
But today, Lyla was strangely silent. OK, maybe ‘silent’ was too absolute a word to describe anything Lyla did, but she was quieter than normal. Jessica held her breath. She could feel Lyla’s presence beside her bed. She imagined Lyla standing there, debating whether or not to wake her.
Then:
“Come on, Jess, I know you’re awake.”
Jessica kept very still.
I don’t want to talk.
A depression on her mattress told her Lyla was sitting on it.
“I know you don’t feel like talking and that’s why you’re pretending to be asleep. But you know what? I believe in solutions, not moping around.”
Here it comes, Jessica thought with dread. The pep talk about going to the gym and cutting down my diet into five peas a day.
“So I’ve trawling the Internet for solutions, and guess what I found?” Lyla nudged her leg.
Jessica was piqued despite herself.
“Jess, I know you’re in there.” Another nudge. “And I know you want to see what I’ve found.”
She was busted. Jessica poked her head out from under the covers. Lyla was sitting on her bed, smiling, iPad laid in her palms like a sacrificial offering.
“Look for yourself,” she teased.
Jessica was aware she looked a right mess with her hair all over the place. But she took Lyla’s iPad anyway and glanced at the screen.
“Big, Beautiful Dating,” Lyla confirmed, reading it out loud. “Isn’t that absolutely great?”
Jessica sat up. She was interested. Why, she had arrived at the same conclusion.
“So does this website pair big, beautiful people together?” she said cautiously.
“Apparently, all guys can apply, but the girls have to be BBW and they get to register for free.” Lyla’s voice rose excitedly. “Look.”
She snatched the iPad from Jessica and scrolled down the website.
“See? All the girls have their pictures in this and they are all BBW. You’re prettier than any of them. It says here . . . ‘a dating service for men who love Big, Beautiful Ladies’. And look at the men themselves.”
Many of the male avatars didn’t have accompanying photos, but they were interesting enough.
“Dave, 31, lawyer,” Lyla read. “Loves to go for walks by the lake, loves Italian food and has a golden retriever named ‘Sam’.”
“He’s too old for me.”
“There are others. Look, Steve. 23. College student. Loves to cook macaroni and cheese and show a girl a good time.”
“Define ‘good time’.”
“Oh, come on. Not every guy has sex on his mind.” Lyla’s fingers flew on the touchpad.
“What’re you doing?”
“Creating your profile.”
“What? Wait, no!” Jessica tried to pull the iPad from her best friend but Lyla held it away and sprinted from the bed.
“Ha ha,” she said. “It’s my iPad and I have a gorgeous photo of you in your prom dress.”
Yeah, the prom to which she went alone. “Please, Lyla!”
“No! It’s time you do something for yourself. Look, you deserve a guy who likes you the way you are and won’t try to change you unless you want to change yourself. I think this dating site is your best bet, don’t you think?”
Privately, Jessica thought so too. “But what if they are all weirdos?” she said in a small voice.
“So? They are all weirdos in college too and that doesn’t stop anyone from dating them.”
Good point.
“What if one of them is a serial killer or something?”
“Then at least you’ll have plenty to talk about . . . you know, about burying his victims and stuff.” Lyla’s fingers tapped the touch screen. “There, your profile is done!”
“What? OK, that’s crossing the line.” Jessica hurled herself out of bed and almost tripped on her blanket en route to Lyla’s bed.
“Oh, don’t be stupid. It’s a great profile.” Lyla showed it to her. “Jessica, 19, college student. Loves baking, taking romantic walks in the park and reading. Looking for a guy who will accept her for the way she is and not try to change her, and she’ll do the same for him. Very much into monogamy and believes in saving it all for ‘the one’.”
Accompanying the caption was a very flattering photo of Jessica in her prom dress. The dress was a sleek and very fancy, blue, off-shoulder, satin number that didn’t hide Jessica’s curves but emphasized her big bosom in a way that was deliciously sexy.
“You practically spelled out I’m a virgin!” Jessica groaned.
“And what’s wrong with that? It’ll hook in the guys like flies!”
“That’s exactly the type of guy I don’t want!”
“But you’ll also reel in the type of guys you want – the ones who believe in monogamy and true love and being with only one person. We’ll know how to screen them out soon enough. Trust me on this, Jess, it’ll be a breeze!”
THE VIRGIN
Kyle stared at the screen of his Mac.
The profile read: “Jessica, 19, college student.”
Hmmm, so she’s young, he thought. He preferred them a little older, but asking for a virgin in anyone over the age of twenty was stretching it a bit. Just like the last one he had snared over the website this way. He had spent two whole weeks wining and dining her, and when the test came, she jumped him, and he found out she wasn’t a virgin.
Two wasted weeks.
Anyhow, it was time to move on. This ‘Jessica’ actually seemed interesting.
“Loves baking, taking romantic walks in the park and reading.”
Well, he liked eating baked goods, talking walks in the park – which usually led to sex – and reading a lot of James Patterson.
“Looking for a guy who will accept her for the way she is and not try to change her, and she’ll do the same for him. Very much into monogamy and believes in saving it all for ‘the one’.”
This for some reason touched him more than any profile he had ever read. She was plus-sized. That much was obvious; otherwise she wouldn’t be on this website he had set up. Then of course, there was the clue which indicated she might be a virgin. He couldn’t very well put up ‘Virginity Status’ as a criteria on the website, but he had learned to look for clues.
It was imperative that she was a virgin.
‘Saving it all for the one.’
That was a red flag if any.
He studied her photo again. She was very pretty. Devastatingly so. She was obviously dressed to go to a ball, but her whole ensemble came across as wistful and happy and eclectic and conformist all at the same time. It was as if there were many facets to her to be explored. He sensed that not many men gave her that opportunity because of her plus size.
Their loss.
He found himself wanting to get to know her better, and not because of the reasons by which he was compelled.
Because she was the perfect candidate.
Simply perfect.
A pang flitted across his chest as he thought of what he must do to her.
The clock was ticking. He had to do it in five days.
HOUR
Jessica hadn’t expected any guy to write to her through the website. Nevertheless, she found herself checking every hour if someone had anyway. You’re such a loser. She knew she shouldn’t set any expectations at all because there were so many women out there, and most of them were probably prettier and more accomplished than she was.
Still . . . it was nice to hope. And equally dreadful.
What if no one checked out her profile? The website had a counter for the number of clicks on her profile so that she could gauge how popula
r she was.
Argggh!
What if lots of clicks registered on the counter, which meant lots of people checked her out, but no one wrote to her? That was far worse!
She wished she could take back her profile now. Oh wait, she could. She could just deregister herself. Yes! That was an option.
Only Lyla would berate her for being a chicken.
Screw Lyla! It wasn’t her life.
But Lyla had always been so well-meaning and helpful that she hated to do this to her best friend without actually talking it over with her first.
But so far, there wasn’t even a nibble. She should know. She checked every hour. All the responses were immediately sent to her Yahoo email account.
Not one single nibble. And she even checked her ‘junk’ messages just in case some of them landed there. No one found her pretty or interesting enough to write to. Was that how she really was? Sooner or later, she had to come to terms with the fact. No one wanted to date her the way she was, even when she was competing against like-sized women.
Argggh!
Desperately, she scrolled through the website and clicked on the other profiles there. Photo after photo of big, beautiful women came up, all smiling, all phenomenally attractive in their way. Caption after caption of likes, preferences, opinions. Every one of them seemed more interesting than her own.
Maybe she had come across as being too opinionated.
Looking for a guy who will accept her for the way she is and not try to change her, and she’ll do the same for him. Very much into monogamy and believes in saving it all for ‘the one’.
Who wrote that kind of thing on a caption?
(Oh yeah, Lyla did.)
Maybe every guy had some innate need to change a woman and she was coming across as defiant and recalcitrant.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
With each passing hour, Jessica felt her spirits sinking lower and lower into despondency.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WEB
Kyle hated to do this. Really.
If only it wasn’t a family commitment. If only it weren’t absolutely essential that he had to do it for the greater good.
He stared at Jessica’s photo again.
God, she was pretty.
He knew most men wouldn’t give her a second glance because of her size. He had been one of those males himself, until he was drawn into this at an early age. Since then, he had learned to appreciate women in plus-sizes and their outer (in addition to inner) beauty and charm. He had learned to admire their soft curves, their dancing eyes, their demure laughter and to see them for what they really were – big, beautiful and huggable.
So, as the web administrator, that was why he was blocking all those messages that came from actual guys out there. There were over a hundred so far. Once the guys had a look at her devastatingly pretty photograph and read her honest, heartfelt caption, they wanted to know more about her.
Just like him.
He read some of their (blocked) queries:
“Hi Jessica. You sound so interesting and mature, unlike so many girls I meet. Please write me. I would love to get to know you better. Sam.”
He pressed ‘Delete’. The message dropped off into cyberspace, eaten by the digital gods forever.
“Hi Jessica. You are incredibly beautiful. I hope you would consider going out on a date with me. Fergus.”
What sort of a name was ‘Fergus’ anyway?
He pressed DELETE.
“Jessica. That’s a beautiful name. I was very touched by what you wrote about saving yourself for ‘the one’. I hope I can be that one. Please write me. Gerald.”
Touched smouched. Get in line, pal.
DELETE, DELETE, DELETE.
Soon, he had a whole pile of deleted messages in his virtual trashcan. It had been a whole day since Jessica posted her profile. She had to be clawing at the walls by now, wondering why no one wrote her. He knew the psychology. She had to be questioning her self-worth, having all sort of self-doubts, and her confidence would be plunging like a bathyscaphe into ocean depths.
Soon.
He would make his move. He didn’t have a choice.
FIRST CONTACT
Jessica woke up that morning feeling groggy. The sunlight flitted through the windows of her dorm room and she blinked and groaned. What day was today? Oh thank God it was Friday. That meant her first class wouldn’t be until ten o’ clock and she could sleep in for a bit.
Why was she so sleepy again? Oh yes, she had stayed up till two trying to study. (Yeah, right.) Study and constantly checking her emails after every sentence she read of her Microbiology textbook.
Lyla had already gone. Her bed was unmade, as always, because she didn’t see the point of making a bed every morning only to have it mussed up by night.
Jessica groaned again. Her mouth tasted like something the cat brought in and she didn’t really feel like making it to her ten o’ clock class either. Professor Smythe talked in monotone, and it was difficult to listen to her drone about the creative habits of rod-shaped bacteria when you didn’t have your morning coffee.
Her Dell laptop lay open on her study desk. It was on hibernate mode.
No, don’t go there.
She made herself pad to the bathroom. She took a piss, looked at herself in the mirror, suppressed the urge to scream, brushed her teeth, splashed water on her face, and padded out again.
The laptop sat there like a siren calling Odysseus to his uncertain fate.
OK, OK, you know you want to. Just get it over with.
Bracing herself as though for a dental appointment, she marched to her laptop and tapped the keyboard.
Clickety-clack, clickety-clack . . . bring it on, destiny!
Her Yahoo account appeared, and her heart leaped when she saw the NEW MESSAGE. The sender was from BIG BEAUTIFUL DATING and the subject matter read: ‘Hi, would like to get to know you better’.
Jessica’s excitement mounted. No man had ever said those words to her before. Careful, she told herself, even though her pulse was suddenly pounding. Don’t get your hopes up.
She seated herself before her laptop and clicked the message open.
‘Dear Jessica,
I read your profile and I was very touched by how honest and humble you are. I love eating baked goods, taking romantic walks in the park, on the beach, everywhere . . . and reading too. Additionally, I love fast cars and someone with whom to share rides in them.
I am not the sort of guy who would try to change a woman. Why else would I be dating her if I wanted her to be someone else? I’m very much into monogamy as well and am looking for ‘the one’ who will change my life forever.
Please write me back and I hope we can meet.
Kyle.’
She was stunned.
Meet?
Her?
Someone wanted to meet her! She should be spinning hoops!
But wait. Perhaps he was a troll. She shouldn’t get too excited just yet. He might be really ugly, and this might be the only way he could get to date any woman. She clicked on the link to his profile and it led to the website.
You should be talking about trolls! You are in no place to judge or pick and choose.
His profile appeared.
This time she was floored.
Of course, she reminded herself that ‘Kyle’ could have posted a stock photo he derived from the net. And when she finally met him, the truth would be revealed. Because the man in the photo staring back at the camera was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen on an online profile. What was a guy who looked like this doing on any dating website, let alone a Big, Beautiful Dating Website?
‘Kyle’ had dark, just-out-of-bed hair which was mussed up sexily and the most blazing blue eyes Jessica had ever seen. His nose was as sculptured as a statue’s, and his cheekbones were something a plastic surgeon would put on a display model. His mouth was wide, generous and very alluring. He could have been a model, an actor, or a member of a boy band.
>
His neck was thick but graceful, and the slope of his shoulders and chest underneath the tight white tee he was wearing suggested that he worked out.
OK.
He was an illusion.
She should delete the email right now and forget all about this. Trash her account and put it out of her mind as one bad dream. But his caption arrested her:
‘KYLE, 24.
Looking for the special someone who will make my life complete. I love big, beautiful women. I always have. I think I owe it all to my late mother, who was a BBW herself. She taught me to see both inner beauty and the larger package which contains it. I know this may sound trite but it’s true. So give me a chance to prove it.’
She blinked, and then read it again. Something about the way he wrote ‘inner beauty and the larger package which contains it’ struck a chord with her. She didn’t think it was just a line.
She stared at his photo again.
Should she reply to him? Should she meet him?
Every fiber in her was screaming to ‘REPLY’.
But wait. She shouldn’t be so hasty. She should ask the love expert, Lyla. Lyla would know what to do.
MEETING
“Are you crazy?” Lyla’s shriek almost splintered Jessica’s eardrums.
She clapped her hands to her ears.
“Let me look at him again.” Lyla grabbed the laptop and blew up ‘Kyle’s’ photo. “Oh my God, he’s surreal. And he lives in the same city as we do!”
“I know. That’s why I’m so reluctant to write to him.”
Lyla let out an expletive. “If he’s a troll, you’d be reluctant to write him. But he’s not!”
“That’s why I’m convinced he’s too good to be true.”
