I finally had a chance to take my wife to Maui last week. Since we have so much in common, I think I will return every year, like the Humpback whales. Fortunately, Lahaina is a former whaling town or else you may have never read another post on this blog….
The wife and I were cruising the mean streets of Lahaina, on the prowl for something decent to break our fast. We had been referred to Captain Jack’s as a good place, so we popped in and decided to give it a try. After seating us and getting us our waters, the hostess relinquished our care to her compatriot, a spritely little vixen in her early twenties with platinum blond hair, tattoos, piercings, heavy eye makeup and enormous pale blue eyes. She was gorgeous.
Being on vacation, I find nothing wrong with imbibing in a couple of beers with breakfast, so I ordered one beer with my breakfast and another half-way through. Her eyes were so big she looked surprised when you asked her a question when I asked for another beer, for a moment I thought she had mistaken my request for swapping out my current beer. Nothing could be further from the truth - I wanted an additional beer, baby, not a replacement. Even still, there was a reluctance on her part in tearing her eyes away from mine - she seemed transfixed, mesmerized even. She kept making excuses to come over to our table (i.e., more water, the bill, etc.)- I recognized her ploys as the actions of an accomplished Chub Chaser.
When she brought my card back with the bill, she dropped the bomb on us. “I love how much you two laugh – that’s so cool. If I were to ever get married, it would be to a guy like you. A lot of guys hit on me and I’m like ‘whatever’ but somebody like you is what I’m looking for.”
Maui is a beautiful place in general, but this was a pristine moment for the Chased among us.
Scientific Observation: The Female Chub Chaser can be more aggressive in tropical climates. Also, she is in no way intimidated by competition; in fact, she seems to thrive off it.
***Disclaimer: no chubs were actually chased in this encounter***
Paydays are a big day in our household, for they signify one of the two days every month that we allow our spawn to eat McDonald’s (no sense in breeding more chubs, if we can help it). This past Friday was no exception and based on schedules, if fell upon me to bring home the trophies of saturated fat and overwhelming sodium. On this particular occasion, the drive-through line was an unmitigated cluster-fuck, with soccer moms allowing other mini-vans to cut ahead of them in line two at a time. I didn’t have time for this non-sense: I had garbage food to get for the chirrens so I could go on the with the rest of my evening. Also, the people in the drive-though inevitably screw our order up in at least one way everytime we go, so it was likely I’d need to saunter out of my car and go inside anyway.
The trip inside was uneventful: a madhouse of jumping, screaming kids everywhere you looked, “supervised” by inattentive parents and McEmployees who spoke marginal English at best. I grabbed my bags of “food” and walked out the door, happy to be free of the chaos. As I’m walking into the parking lot, I see two little girls I’m speculating as aged 5 and 6. They’re singing two different songs, dancing two different dances until the younger cuts in and says “I smell fries!” Clearly, she was the brains of the operation. I smile as I walk by as they reminded me a lot of my own daughters; their mother returns my smile, proud that someone else recognizes what she sees on a daily basis. I’m almost in my car and this little gaggle of females has just walked into one of the side doors when the mom opened the door again, poked her head out and in an Australian accent asked:
“Did you hear that?”
“No” I say.
“She said ‘He’s quite handsome, isn’t he?’” the mom said, smiling and giggling.
“Tell her thank you!” I said.
Scientific Observation: It would appear that even when too young to be a bona fide chaser (indeed, too young to even consider chasing or have any idea what it means), some youngsters exhibit behavior that could be interpreted as a keen Female Chub Chaser instinct. This leads to perplexing question: is it nature or nurture? Did mom give this youngster the genes to appreciate portly beauty - or did mom imbue in her child a deep appreciate for chubs by her comments and wandering eye around her child? Further research is necessary….
I’m not a morning person- this can be verified by anyone who has ever lived with me. As such, I often stagger into work half in a daze, sometimes stopping by the cafe in the ground floor of our building to pick up a breakfast sandwich and Rockstar to help me wake up fully at my desk. Such was the case this morning, as I wandered out of the cafe towards the elevator bank, pretty much oblivious to everything going on around me. Out of the six elevators, the one that was open was of course the furthest away; the door having been open for a few seconds, I anticipated it closing momentarily, at which point I would simply push the button and wait for another. You can imagine my surprise when I saw a soft, feminine hand physically restraining the elevator door, waiting for me to join her in this little metal box of love.
“Thank you!” I say, appreciative of her kind gesture.
“You’re welcome….” she purred, in a sensuous tone that conjured up imagines of carnal desire that we married men don’t allow ourselves to dwell on.
She was only going up 3 floors, while I was in for the long haul up to 15. She made the most of her time, though, looking at my beer belly, fantasizing about seeing it jiggle without the barrier of a shirt. The breakfast sandwich and Rockstar in my hand also held some interest to her, as clearly it was meals such as this one that had built such an enticing physique. With a ding, we had reached the 4th floor and I could see the sadness in her eyes as she exited.
“Have a good weekend…” her words trailing off in her final attempt to snare her prey. This was not a tearful goodbye, though-there was as much joy in her voice as there was disappointment.
“You too!” I called after her, as the elevator door closed.
Scientific Observation: It would seem, from this encounter that the Female Chub Chaser is a species that garners as much satisfaction from the hunt as she does the kill.
Welcome to my world- a world in which a happily portly man ambles around, drawing the unsolicited desires of a very small subsection of our culture. I am referring to the rare but growing demographic that can only be called Female Chub Chasers. This is not to be confused with the equally rare (and equally fond of penis) Chub Chasers, which are gay males who enjoy rolling in the hay with men who have rolls of their own. Well, you might say- that sounds rare indeed! Who on earth would want to play the role of Moses, parting the Red Sea of fat and cellulite, just to (hopefully) find said penis?! I admit, I’m as flummoxed by it as you are- it defies logic. But since we are all lacking a logical explanation of this phenomenon, I feel the only thing we can do is to be scientific about our observances and see if it leads to a theory. The following posts will be an exploration of all things Chub Chaser, from the position of this chased man. Your comments, as a chaser or a chasee are encouraged.