He Was Weighing His Options

Story Sent in by Allie:

My first date with Ben was at a restaurant. He was already seated at a booth when I arrived, and he slid out of it to give me a hug. He had a hug technique that involved the sandwiching of one of my legs in between his own, so that his crotch was uncomfortably pressed up against my thigh. Thanks, Ben. Down, boy.

We sat down and caught up for about a minute. He had asked me, "How's your family?" and I was in the middle of answering him when he interrupted, "Well, enough small talk. Let's get down to it."

He reached aside himself and pulled out a plastic bathroom scale. With a grin, he set it on the floor, halfway under the table. He said, "Go for it."


"You know what to do. It's a scale."


"It's plastic. Easier to carry."

"And why did you carry it here?"

He gave me a worried look. "I… you know, I thought you'd… uh, I guess…"

"What? I don't really understand what you're asking me."

He rolled his eyes and said, "Would you mind weighing yourself before dinner?"

I exploded into laughter. "Ahahaha… ah, no."

He was quick to reassure. "You think I want to know what you weigh? Oh, no! No, no. I'm sorry if you thought that I wanted to know. I meant that you could weigh yourself before dinner and then after and then just tell me the difference."

I laughed again. He continued with his explanation: "You know, like whether there's a five-pound, 10-pound, 20-pound difference…"

"Twenty-pound difference?" I asked, "What do you think I'm going to eat?"

He said, "We haven't even looked at the menu, yet. You know what I mean. Like you don't have to tell me if you're 200 pounds, but if you're 200 before and then 205 after, just tell me, 'five pounds.' Does that make sense?"

"Two-hundred pounds?" For the record, I currently weigh 135, and when the date happened, I was still just around 135.

"That was just an example!" he stammered over himself, "I know you don't weigh 200 pounds."

"I'm not going to weigh myself, so you can carry that scale right back out of here. You've got some nerve."

He looked down and quietly said, "It's a plastic scale."

I didn't say anything in reply. We sat in silence for a few seconds and then I gathered my things.

"You're going?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah."

He said, "Just the weight difference. I don't need to know what the starting and ending weights were. Just the weight difference! I'll do it, too, if it'll make you feel better–"

"It won't," I said, and left him there. I don't know why he "needed to know" the weight difference so badly, and I don't want to know.


  1. The creepiest (and most likely) explanation here is that he's an expansion fetishist...they get their jollies from the concept of people growing and gaining massive amounts of weight as they eat. Hence, his exaggerated idea of what you could gain in one meal.

  2. He looked down and quietly said, "It's a plastic scale."


  3. Melissa is on the right track, although it sounds like Ben actually has a feeder fetish. While most fetishes (feet, boobs) are strange but generally harmless to both parties, a feeder's eventual goal is usually to make someone so fat that they're immobile and utterly dependant on the feeder. It's really sick and harmful and the OP did the right thing by not even going through with the rest of the date after he pulled that crap.

  4. What I find bizarre is that he expected the OP to know what he was thinking without him saying it. Does he seriously think that bringing a scale to a restaurant is that common?

  5. Bitch, just get on the scale. I honestly don't see what the issue is, I normally bring a thermometer, sphygmomanometer, breathalyzer and sometimes a scale to all my dates.

  6. ...OP didn't end the date after he tangoed his crotch into her thigh? Hmm.

  7. Ha! This guy reminds me of a guy my sister dated. He would weigh himself before and after he took a dump, just to know how big his dump was.


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