Types and stereotypes

By the time I realised that I had added weight, I was already 100kg in size from 82kg. It happened rapidly, quickly. After so much of trying to reason out the weight gain, I resolved in my heart to start morning runs before work.

The first week was hard. I always ran less than 10 minutes and came back home even though the allocated time was 30 minutes. In the following weeks, I tried to push myself to run further.

That's when I met him. At first, he was just the hunky guy who always says hi when we passed each other. His voice was smooth, his tone measured. I liked it. 

Since it was so early in the morning, I couldn't make out his face but the street light helped make out the outline of his body.

But as weeks turned into months, and the solstice changed, we came into a time when by 6am, the sky was already so clear, that it was day.

By then, I could see his face clearly. Also, we had introduced ourselves during one of these days.

He had taken to running beside me that to an onlooker, we looked like we ran together rather than random runners who ran the same path.

His running beside me led to a rapport of some sort. He sometimes asked that we do a quick run to that streetlight or bus stop, or pushed me to take an additional lap.

It was all good. Until one morning, during our run, he asked to take me to lunch.

That's when I knew that this motivator/ free trainer I had sort of found, was gone. Because why would someone that I wasn't his type ask me to lunch?

For context, Richard was a 6"2 muscle frame. I'm sure if he did this body fat test thingy that's all the rage, he would be found to be with less than 5% body fat. I on the other hand, was all fat. 

His abs look like they were sculpted, his thighs were as muscled as well, they looked like they could strangle me to death. His biceps were a dream. 

His face was handsome, with a sharp jaw, a generous beard. His nose was prominent, his lips were not very pronounced. They looked soft, a little thinner than I ideally found attractive in men. His skin was the golden colour of sunset.

In all, he wasn't exactly my type. My type is dark, lean, not muscled, thin and flat with defined lips. I like lips that can inspire fantasies. The type with very defined outlines. But his has no defined outline. 

I also held the opinion that muscular men liked slim girls. And of course there is the global pandemic of ass men. It's hard to find leg men these days and since my ass is almost nonexistent, I didn't know if Richard just wanted to try a fat, yanshless girl.

The summary was that I wasn't interested in being a try out.

I told him I was usually busy at work. He said it's cool but asked for my number. There was no way I could get out of that one. I gave him my number.

That started the occasional good morning messages, random messages throughout the day. I learnt about who Richard was outside of his exercises. I learnt that he is an accountant and worked with a tech company on the island. 

Through our messages, I got introduced to the witty, goofy and intelligent facets of Richard's personality. We had lunch together a few times. In those times, I found out that he had very nice eyes. They were very expressive and seemed to see into the depths of your being. I liked them. I told him. He smiled.

As our chats went on, he asked what I do on the weekends. I told him the truth. Nothing. I stay indoors, reading, writing and sleeping.

One random Saturday morning, he called that he was at my gate. I told him I was in Ikeja, he retorted by saying I already told him about how I use that lie to drive people back when they came to visit me.

I came out to meet him outside my gate. He smelt really good. He always did. I took a quick bath and went out with him to a nearby snacks shop. We both got a smoothie and a burrito. 

After that we drove to his house. He lived on the street next to mine. I had pointed out my house while we were running one day, but we didn't run on his street so I had no idea which house was his, even though he had mentioned he lived on the next street. 

The visit was interesting, we played games and gisted, a very platonic visit until bros started saying he really liked me.

I told him I really liked him as well, that I liked spending time with him but romantically, he wasn't my type. His expressive eyes darkened and he asked me what my type was and as the chatter box that I have always been, I told him "slim, flat and dark. You are muscular, light skinned and not at all flat. I like to date people that I am madly attracted to. People that satisfy my soul".

He fell silent. I could tell that my words had hit him in a way that wasn't pleasant.

In a bid to salvage the situation, I rushed on. "Besides, I am fat with no yansh. I'm certain I am not your type as well. Believe me, you are not missing much".

That seemed to pull him out of his daze. "Yoyo, talk weti you know, abeg". His eyes were not shining, his tone subdued.

I decided that the conversation was going in a direction that I didn't like and knowing that arguments always lightens up sad situations, so I said

"Why do you always call me Yoyo? Can you even pronounce my name?

"What?"

"Is my name that hard? All these people that will not learn other tribes names" I was gearing up for any argument that can distract us from the fact that we are not each other's types.

Bros sounded exasperated "Yoyo.....".

"You see, still not my name".

I was about to reel off my bullet points for this argument that I was creating.... When bros kissed me.

It was a surprise. I didn't expect it. He kissed me softly and pulled back slightly. I opened my mouth to say something and he swooped back in. 

He started by moving our lips against each other, nothing serious, a simple kiss. But then I felt his tongue tracing my lips. It felt good so I reciprocated. I did not know when his tongue found it's way into my mouth but soon I was kissing him like my life depended on it.

My hands had found their way under his shirt. His hands were cupping my breasts through my dress. I heard a moan that I belatedly realised had come from me. I felt hot. I wanted him closer than he was.

I tried to adjust to get a better grasp of his shoulders and that seemed to break the spell.

Somehow I had ended up on top of him on the couch. I pulled off him. 

He sat up as well. He called my name. I looked at him, embarrassment written all over me.

"I call you yoyo as an endearment. You don't like it? You never said anything before". 

The first time he asked me while running if I do this often, the first time I heard more than a single syllable in his voice, I knew I liked his voice a little too much.  And now roughened with passion, it sounded like the voice that could be my undoing. 

I shook my head. "That's not the point" my voice didn't sound like my own.

"And (he calls my name, this time with a flirtatious tilt of his head) I can guarantee you that I will satisfy your soul..." I looked at him sharply, his eyes swept down my face lingering on my breasts, my lips before settling on my eyes"... And your body...." I looked away. The room felt small all of a sudden. My nipples hardened. 

Yes, the first time I heard his voice, I knew that he would be the type to talk me through it.

But no.

"Bros, all these lines are unnecessary. I wan go my house abeg". My legs felt like jelly. A moment longer in this apartment and I might be climbing this man like a tree, for the chance to hear that smooth voice ask me "Do you like that?". I rushed out before he stood up.

He dropped me off and hugged me and drove home.

Me, I entered my apartment acutely aware that my running partner was a very good kisser. I wondered if he was as good at other things as he was with kissing. I shook my head to shake off these thoughts.

My mind was reeling.

Is my type changing?

Am I cheating on my crush?

What do you think?