Why do I find fat people attractive

Like a cheesecake in a glass case

Do you use a dating app like Tinder? Then you know these movements: I like - swipe right, I don't like - swipe left. The decision for or against a person is often made in a few seconds, triggered by a quick glance at a photo. Now imagine if you saw a fat person like me in a photo like this. How would you decide?

Whereby, one can hardly speak of a conscious decision. What prompts us to swipe right or left with the thumb within half a second is more of a reflex. And when we act reflexively, we automatically fall back on what we learned from an early age. In the case of attractiveness, what we have learned is the ideal of beauty that is culturally imparted to us; for women we would have a small nose, few wrinkles, large eyes, full lips, thick hair and - not to forget - the slim body. Our trained attractiveness checklist takes effect immediately with the dating app pictures, of course in combination with a few personal preferences. It's about efficiency, about filtering as quickly as possible, because there is a large selection. (A few weeks ago I wrote about my own experiences with this attractiveness checklist.)

Nevertheless, I also tested dating platforms, but I quickly felt like a piece of cheesecake in a glass display case that is rated solely on the basis of its edibility. And that should also be on the lookout for the tastiest pieces at the same time. I found this feeling so scary that I logged off after a very short time. In addition: How am I supposed to know, just by looking, whether the cream in the Black Forest cake is not buttery? Or does the chocolate cake really taste as juicy as it looks? I can only assess that if I know more about the baking process and the ingredients. Translated means: When I get to know a person, the first thing that interests me is what is in him, what goes through his head. And that's not written on anyone's forehead. Incidentally, this also applies to sites like OkCupid, which are more about individuality, which I welcome very much in principle. But I just can't get used to this kind of self-marketing in general.

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I used to get my money's worth online when I wanted to meet new people. At that time, Tinder, Parship & Co. didn't exist yet. Forums were something like the large digital sofa landscape, where everyone dropped in for a relaxed chat. There I could hear pages of conversations, and as soon as I realized I liked what someone was writing, I looked up what else he or she was worried about. Before I had any idea what a person looked like, I often knew what their favorite quote was, how they positioned themselves politically, what they laughed at. If we then got into conversation and realized that we understood each other, it sometimes turned into a meeting in real life. That's how I met my first partner, for example.

As a fat person, you learn very early that you are of no interest to the dating market - because you do not correspond to the general perception of attractive.

I know of many couples with at least one or one fat that they found each other this way. And vice versa, I know a lot of fat people who - like me - find it difficult to get to know a potential partner on the street or in their own activities. There is a simple reason for this: We are all told early on that beauty is the basis for an initial interest - and the fat body is not beautiful. As if there was a qualification or a necessity in beauty. This thought can be shaken off with a little feminism in your mind, but the internalized feeling of worthlessness is something else. It often leaves a certain skepticism when someone approaches with clear intentions. In said forums, men in particular wrote that in real life they often get a rebuff from fat women - because they simply cannot believe that the advances are meant honestly.

I was one of them when I was at school. As a member of the theater group, I was working on the sets for the next performance when Jan suddenly appeared at my side and offered me his help. We knew each other from the editorial staff of the school newspaper. We spent the time hammering and joking until the late afternoon. As I was packing up the tools, Jan suddenly looked through the cardboard window of Faust's study and held out his hand to me: "My beautiful lady, may I dare to offer my arm and escort to you?" Gretchen was not my part in the play, but me knew her text. I promptly replied: "I'm neither a lady, nor beautiful, can go home unaccompanied." I gave Jan a basket - and didn't even notice it. The thought that someone might have romantic intentions towards me was just beyond my imagination at the time.

It took me years to realize that Jan was flirting with me. Today my time lag is about two hours, which hasn't significantly reduced the number of missed opportunities. But I see that calmly. Since I'm married to my job, I don't search - which doesn't rule out finding. The proverbial love at first sight will probably not be with me. I'm not interested enough in that. But what I believe in is love at first sentence. Because I've actually already seen it.

Protocol: Sara Peschke