LARGETONY Blog

I’m not a real big guy. Yeah, I’m tall and I’m pretty broad in the back and shoulders, but that’s it. I’m not a big guy as in girth (around the middle kind of girth, I mean.) My waist pretty much stays around 32 inches these days. Last fall, in an effort to try to put on some muscle mass, I ended up getting a bit thick at my belt line, too, and went up to 34. But at 6′-3″ that’s still not so bad.

I’ve always had a good appetite. Even when I was young and really skinny. I just had a metabolism that burned like a nuclear reactor. It has slowed down some now…almost the moment I turned thirty…but it’s still decently fast. It’s a good thing, too. Because, I swear there are days I could eat my weight in pound cake. A hundred and ninety pound cake.

But here’s the thing. Even though I lean toward the lean side, somehow people can still peg me as an eater. It’s like I’m wearing a sign that says “Feed Me”. Actually, it’s more like I’m wearing a sign that says, “Will flirt for food.” Maybe it’s the old “a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” sort of thing. Only, change “heart” to “britches” because food seems to be a recurring tactic of seduction when I get lined up in somebody’s sites.

I’ve told you all before about Biscuit Boy. And the stalker girl that works in my boss’ office has practically turned cupcake baking into the Dance of The Seven Veils. There was even the time in grade school when a couple of girls made me kiss them for M-n-M’s.

It happened again this weekend. I was with my friend, “J” at a little diner kind of place discussing his upcoming wedding. Our waitress, who was about ten or so birthdays beyond MILF, had been laying the heavy hand on me most of the time we were there. She would touch me on the shoulder or arm everytime she came by the table and literally leaned against me when she braced her elbow on the booth to take our order.

A lot of that is not all that strange in little down home joints like this, but she was definitely giving me the press. Then she left the pie off when she brought us our tickets, and when I told her she just waved me off and said, “Oh, it was the last piece anyway.” I don’t know how that made it free, but I don’t think that was really the point.

Most guys get people trying to lure them with provocative clothing, or flowers or humor or implants or even drugs and alcohol. Me? I get temptation from somebody wearing a pork chop around their neck with bacon fat dabbed behind their ears.

She gave me one last squeeze on the shoulder when she returned with our change. “Ya’ll come back in and see us sometime,” she said. Then she looked me square in the eye and said, “I’ll make sure there’s plenty of pie,” and followed it with a wink.

I guess if there would be “plenty of pie” the next time, it wouldn’t be free. It probably wouldn’t cost money, but I’m sure it wouldn’t be free. I’d end up paying for it some way. Nobody’s pie is ever free.

Now, does it work? Will I flirt for food? Maybe. It all depends. Is that a meatloaf in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?

This entry was posted on Monday, June 5th, 2006 at 6:11 am and is filed under dating and sex. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.