Well, it’s like this. I had lost a ton of weight by the time I met Drake, but I still had a ton of insecurity about my looks. I spent a good deal of time accumulating trophy boys to make up for what ugliness I still felt. Unfortunately, during our first contact, he never stood up. It wasn’t until we were out and about that I came face to face with Drake Skye, the Lilliputian. Now I’m 5’10’’ soaking wet and a good six feet with shoes. Drake Skye on the other hand, he wasn’t more than 5’2”. We were a walking freak show. I’d lost weight by then, but there was no hiding my Nordic background, which bequeathed broad shoulders and strong hips. At one point, I felt like I might as well braid my hair, strap on a leather skirt with a bronze bra, and don a horned hat while tucking his little form under my arm and heading to dinner.
Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t entirely about his height. Keep in mind that in my little fantasy above, we were heading to dinner. This is because Drake Skye, male model, didn’t eat.
Let me give you a little insight on why models are not the ultimate date. He who does not eat is destined to have breath tinged with desert carrion. Knowing this, I’m not sure why he suggested we attend the opera. First off, the woman on stage looked suspiciously like the image I had of myself next to Drake Skye, horned hat and all. Second, when one’s breath reeks of a retirement home diaper bin, one should not whisper thoughtful commentary all night long on the merits of opera. And third, although I may resemble some operatic Viking diva, I’m more of a diet-coke chugging, milk duds eating, Independence Day loving sort of simple girl. Between his breath and the opera, I began to fantasize about eliminating several of my sensory organs at once.
When the date ended, (early I might add) Drake Skye was bewildered. “You’re not having fun with Drake Skye? Drake Sky does not get this.” I looked at his tiny, beautiful face and form, then tried to be gentle. But, as in all things, my honesty betrayed me. I replied gently, “It’s not me. It’s you.” Thank goodness he was a model. He nodded with understanding, never really comprehending that someone might not love Drake Skye, male model.
What followed was a series of bizarre experiences.
Call of the Wild
By: Freya Linden (View Profile)
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Comments
I've read a couple of your stories. You are a wonderful writer!!!!!! This one though, beats them all, I had to stop reading a couple times because I was laughing so hard. Amazing. :)
Whoa! You've experienced a helluva spectrum of horrific dates, while maintaining a incredible sense of humor about 'em. Excellent article and writing style.
Freya, I laughed till I cried!! "I think I'm going to fart!" I can't quit thinking about it. Wouldn't want to go back to those days of sweaty palms, tongue tied miserableness, and having to make sure everything was properly shaved!! Oh, I remember the breath too!
Ah, horror dates. As funny as your stories were, while reading them I could very much relate to them. Despite the fact that I've never been teased for the way I look, a voice in my head is constantly telling me how fat and worthless I am. I hear this, and become overwhelmingly insecure about the way I look. I compare myself to everyone, and obsess over what I think others must think of me. This has made it incredibly difficult to open up to anyone, and I often ruin my chances with guys because I put words in their mouths. What you discovered about the errors made by jumping to conclusions really allowed me to evaluate the relationships I've had in the past, and has encouraged me to sit back and relax. If a guy likes me, he likes me, and if he doesn't, it's his loss.
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