Preface

My field report contains nothing spectacularly innovative, unique, or advanced in and of itself.

However, I wanted to report it on Seddit as point of "fuck all that bullshit that goes on inside your head" style inspiration to all the guys here that let their big guts and ugly mugs prevent them from getting out there, being awesome, and gifting the girls with your baddass presences.

So Who Is This Mo-Fo

I'm a fat guy. 6'4", built like a drump truck, and currently 415 pounds. Big-ass-motherfucker. (See the edit update)

I've got bad teeth. I'm balding (not that big a deal for me, but I know it bugs some guys). I'm not an attractive guy, and my skin is pretty jacked up: bad sebhoric dermatitis from time to time, still get acne at age 28, and a dermatological condition on my face that looks like this - if it was on a white guy.

I don't write that to dog myself unduly, but to set the stage for you brothers: I'm no male model with a six pack. I've got great, encouraging, cool wings that I have a bad, bad habit of comparing myself to. My looks and obesity have always been the source of my epic insecurity around women that has unsurprisingly wrecked havoc on my confidence and love life.

I hadn't even so much as gone for a number or flirted with the womenfolk in over a year.

The Meet, The Greet, The First Date

Was with friends rendezvousing with other friends I hadn't met yet at a karaoke bar (one of my favorites, I have a hella good voice and am slowly learning how to put it to good seduction use), and by that point I'm getting in state: holy shit, I am a badass and am here to not just have a good time, but to ensure that everyone I meet has a good time. I'm the most interesting person everyone's going to meet tonight and will add value wherever I go. And even if I doubt all that, then fuck it, I'm going to bullshit myself and everyone else with that as my reality.

I see this cute girl (bad with the scale, but let's say HB7) standing on the outskirts of the karaoke dance floor. I'm still not good with super-cold opens, but let me find something contextual, and I'm in. She laughs and replies something dryly back, and the game is on. As it turns out, we have some important common interests (which, frankly, skyrockets her value up the scale for me). It's 11ish, and I end up staying put and flirting with her the whole night, as she seems interesting enough to keep hanging with.

At the end of the night and multiple inside jokes and plots later, I grab her number saying we need to hang. She makes sure I text her with my digits in turn, and by the time I get home, I've already got a reply from her. Cocky & funny texting commences, I proceed to continue to not give a fuck and enjoy myself.

I try to set up plans for Tuesday, but she's studying for an exam the next morning, so I tell her I might be able to sneak her in Thursday. She's down and I let off on the texts. She initiates the next two days, even making sure that we were still on the day before.

I get to the dive-ish bar early, watch some of the game, and play a bit of pool (I'm AWFUL at pool) until she arrives. I had plans of keeping it light at first, but she opens up full bore with the spiritual stuff (I told her at the bar that I'm an ex-Christian). Normal circumstances, I can talk for hours about that part of my life and the story of how I walked away from faith, but the opening salvo on a first date? Kinda tripped me up with its unexpectedness.

But, the conversation goes pretty well and we end up finishing my pool game only to discover that we're probably the two worst pool players on the planet (seriously). She's kinda shy in that cute, dorky way, but I continue to kino as appropriate and DHV by talking with the other couple who's there playing pool next to us. We eventually take the show on the road to another bar where we split some desert (hell yeah, motherfuckers, brown ale and berry cobbler up in this shit!). I kept thinking of when/where I'd just go in for the kiss, but never found the right time (I know, BS on my part) until walking back, when it turned out she parked behind me. Last minute talking and bullshitting, tell myself to fuck it, and go in for the K-close. Easy peasy - I don't know why us AFC's make such a damn big deal of things.

Shot her a hey, had fun text earlier today and got a reply. Going to leave it lie for a day or two until I follow up on plans I had mentioned during the date of something she should come with me to.

Lessons Learned

I've got a long, long ways to go, but it's been a good learning experience.

  • Old school, insecure-about-being-the-fatass Mons would have been timid and never so bold as to hold hands, have her sit on my lap, grab to dance, or kiss without the exact, painfully right, specific, perfect, no-risk-at-all situation. Fuck that.
  • The brushing your hand against hers hoping she goes for the hold is for pussies. Fuck that.
  • Even if she's on the timid and dorky shy side, don't let that keep you from taking the lead physically. Don't stop yourself; she'll let you know. Fuck that.
  • Don't let your size or your appearance become such a whirlwind of doubt inside your own head that it prevents your from thinking women are interested in you. Fuck that.
  • The clothes can make the man. If you're a chewed-up sunivabitch like me, you had damn well better be the smoothest looking, most confident guy there. T-shirts and gym sneakers? Fuck that.
  • Most importantly: Just because you went on a single date, held hands, and got some smooches, doesn't mean shit. That's something which has thrown me numerous times before, and I'd slip from confident badass into needy pansy. Fuck that… or really, don't give a fuck about that.

It's Friday, Seddit. Go forth and conquer, especially all my fellow big, ugly dudes.

Yes, you are big and terrible and awe-ful. You are ten times as masculine and primal than some hair-gelled up boy-man. Now, go out and live in that reality.

Edit: Thanks for the hustle to lose weight. It's definitely an issue and one that isn't wholly related to seduction. It's not my intent to justify my size or write as though I'm content in it. I absolutely am not.

It's just that as I change my life - health and appearance-wise - I'm refusing to keep sitting on the sidelines in this arena, too, and use my lard ass self as an excuse.

  • I'm a four hundred pound fattie? Well, fuck that, too.