Page 95 of Curvy Girl Summer

“Aaliyah?” a voice interrupted the conversation, and instinctively, I knew it was Silas.

Caught off guard, I hadn’t had a chance to brace myself for the meeting. A jolt fired through me before I turned to face my date.

Oh, okay!

Silas was just as sexy as his pictures. Tall, slim, square-jawed, he had a cool vibe about him. He looked like a stereotypical artist.

“Hi,” I greeted him as he took his seat.

“You’re beautiful,” he complimented me. His eyes swept up and down my body. “Wow. You look good and you smell good.”

I grinned. “Thank you.”

“What would you like? How should we start off the night?” He cocked his head to the side. “With champagne?”

A slow smile crept across my face. “Sounds good.”

He lifted his hand to signal to Ahmad, who had taken a few steps away and was pretending not to be watching in the mirror.

“What’s up, man? What can I get you?” Ahmad greeted him.

Silas ordered a bottle of champagne and proudly pulled out a black card to pay for it. The way he was holding it made it clear he wanted me to see what it was. Once it was securely back in his pocket, he turned to me and engaged me in conversation. He leaned in close to me, inhaled deeply, and then started asking me some questions about myself.

A drink and a half later, he seemed to get a little too comfortable.

“Big women are my type—always have been and always will be.” He held up a finger. “The best hugs are from big women.” He held up a second finger. “The best cuddling is from big women.” He held up a third finger. “The best…” His sentence trailed off, and he let out a small chuckle under his breath. “The best skills.”

“Skills?”

“Yeah. Skills in the kitchen, in the home, in the bedroom—you asked,” he pointed out quickly, lifting his hands as if I were going to call him out. When I didn’t speak, he continued with a smile, “Big women are mad cool. And I might not look like it, but I eat a lot, and I need a woman with a big appetite, too. So naturally, I love a woman that can cook. Big women know how to treat a man because they can cook, they clean, and they’re the freakiest. So, if I’m being completely honest, there’s nothing better than a big, sexy woman who will match my energy.”

I was quiet for a moment as I assessed the self-satisfied look on his face. “Every woman who is big isn’t like that. You know that, right?”

His forehead creased. “What do you mean?”

“Big women aren’t just one thing. If you want these qualities in a woman, that’s one thing. But to say that you like big women because all big women are like this… is just not true.”

“Yo, chill… I’m just naming some things I like.” Confusion crumpled his face. “I’m trying to give you a compliment.”

“These aren’t compliments,” I explained. “These are stereotypes.”

He rolled his eyes and exhaled loudly. “You’re blowing shit way out of proportion.”

“No. I’m just trying to get clarity and making sure I’m not a fetish.”

“Ain’t nobody say nothing about a fetish,” he replied indignantly. He shook his head. “I’m going to keep it real with you, baby girl, this ain’t going to work if this is your attitude.”

“I agree. This isn’t going to work. We should call it a night,” I told him.

“Because I told you how sexy you are?”

I made a face. “That wasn’t exactly what happened.” I lowered my voice. “It feels like you’re fetishizing me, and I’m not interested in being someone’s fetish.”

His face contorted expressively. “What? How?”

“All of the assumptions and generalizations you were making about women with fatter bodies.”

“Aw, come on now! We were talking, and I was complimenting you.” He looked me up and down. “I think your body is sexy.”

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