No Fat Chicks

“No fat chicks.”

Phil said this. Phil is a fellow comedian.

He sat across from me at lunch, and my face couldn’t hide my bewilderment. I wasn’t so taken aback that I lost my ability to speak, but I couldn’t hide the emotion on my face, and he saw that. I was looking into Phil’s eyes and he knew what I saw: a very large man. He was six foot three and well over 300 pounds. You see, Phil was quite fat himself. Some might even say very fat. He was smart, witty, and cutting. Phil was extremely opinionated, and that had some appeal, I suppose. He wasn’t ugly, but he’s the type of guy whom I thought would be thrilled just to have a woman talk to him. But it turns out it was exactly the opposite. Phil was demanding when it came to the opposite sex. Not only did he proclaim “no fat chicks,” he also listed other necessities: she needed to “be hot,” “make good money,” and “not be annoying.”

I laughed. A real laugh. I couldn’t believe that this tub of shit who had clearly done little to no work on his physical appearance would require a woman who was devoted to hers.

“No fat chicks? Dude, you’re fat.”

“You’re fat too.”

“We’re not talking about me. You’re the one saying ‘no fat chicks’ and you’re very fat.”

He wasn’t budging and then he pulled out his phone and showed me something. Photos of a beautiful girl. She was hot. I kept swiping photos of her in a bikini, in short shorts, and then it was the two of them together, laughing, kissing! Who is she?

“Just some chick I dated for a while. She got annoying.”

“You broke up with her?”

“Yup.” He just casually let it out like I had asked him, “Do they have paper towels in the bathroom?”


Now I was more intrigued. Phil, the giant turd of a human being who possessed little to no redeeming qualities save for a snarky, sometimes biting sense of humor, had disposed of what would surely be the most attractive woman who would ever come within smelling distance of him because “she got annoying.”

“You should really let this woman annoy you. You’ll never get anything like this again.”

I was serious. I was sure he’d made a grave mistake.

“I’m talking to another chick.” He handed me his phone and again, I was blown away. Another stunner. Was he poisoning these women? Why would they go out with Phil? He was doing that shit I’d heard about when I was really young and never took to. He’d even adopted the rallying cry I’d heard countless idiots say.

“Girls like assholes.”

It’s a philosophy I never really understood. Girls like assholes. What? How does that make any sense? You might be reading this and thinking, Wait a minute, Tom, you’re an asshole.

I get it. I get that I can be an asshole on a mic. Onstage, sure. On the podcast, sometimes. But in real life, I try to keep being an asshole to a minimum. And it was absolutely never my approach with women. I should also add that I wasn’t the most successful with women, but I was far from a failure. Maybe I should have been an asshole. But I always thought if you like someone, oh, I don’t know, try being nice to them?

But here I am looking across the table at “Philly Pig Tits” showing me photos of him with an absolute dime piece. This guy was the biggest oblivious asshole possible, and it was actually working for him.

But it’s not just big, fat Phil, is it? Time and time again we see guys who frankly have no business having any standards dating beautiful women. Of course, it’s easy to dismiss it as the oldest exchange in the world. Rich man has money, beautiful woman has her beauty; they each have something the other wants. Sure, that dynamic will never end, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m not talking about rich guys. I’m talking about guys like Phil. They’re everywhere. They’re fucking entitled, and they have no reason to be. They’re just alive. I’ve met couples like this in all kinds of settings: wedding receptions, dinner parties, house parties, after my shows.

Not-rich Phil-looking motherfucker with a stunning woman. It’s made me realize a couple of things:

One, every man in the world can get laid, and I wish they knew it. I really do. Missing a tooth? Have a wound that oozes from your face? It might seem improbable, but there is a woman willing to sleep with you. I am completely convinced of this. It’s one of the certainties in this world that has made me completely believe that women are the better species. I’m not saying this to suck up. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I wish more men realized that they really do have a shot with a woman. Let me be clear: I’m not saying every man has a shot with every woman. I’m just saying women forgive a lot more flaws than we do.

Still, I can’t stop thinking about what a shitbag Phil is, but when I start to go down that rabbit hole I have to remind myself that I’m not much better than him. He’s definitely a bigger dick and grossly entitled, but if I’m being honest with myself I can think of lots of ridiculous reasons I turned down women over the years. I turned down dates and certainly shots at love for the most trivial, bullshit reasons I can think of. For example, one time I didn’t like a girl’s forehead, so I never called her again. Her forehead. It wasn’t even a bad one. It’s not like it was wide open and bleeding. It was just a little misshapen and shiny. I once turned down a second date with a girl because she said, “Whatever you want” to every question that I asked. I could have given her another try, right? Should I flog myself for that?

This other time, I had a lovely date with a woman, but it never evolved into a relationship. Do you know why? Her feet were too narrow. If you’re questioning how that prevented our love from taking off, it’s simply because I refused to go out with her again knowing that she had very narrow feet. I’m not sure what I thought I needed from her. Wide feet so she could plow through the snow? Some guys don’t like fat chicks, and some can’t stand narrow feet.

But you know what? Women are just as bad as we are, maybe worse. I discovered that as I was doing research for this essay. (Yes, I do research.) Every woman I talked to from my sisters to friends to my wife, hell, even the editor of this book has stories of their own harsh judgments on us men. They do exactly what we do. I was going to conclude this with a big statement about what massive assholes men are, but now I realize we are exactly the same.

My wife went out with a guy but decided his Rocket from the Crypt tattoo was too stupid to take it further.

My sister, Maria, turned down a guy who she said was nice because his eyebrows were trimmed.

My other sister, Jane, thought a guy was “the hottest” she’d ever seen, but he cuffed his jeans up in a way she thought was lame.

Another friend stopped seeing a guy because he mispronounced the word “façade.” He said, “FUH-KADE.”

That was it.

Still another just couldn’t tolerate seeing a great guy again because his shoes were terrible.

Are you processing this? Here I was, thinking these poor ladies need a break from us. I hate to say it, but I think assholes are just what the doctor ordered. These chicks are so full of themselves with their ridiculous standards and preposterous reasons for not giving a guy a shot. They need a reality check, especially the fat ones. Thank God for guys like Phil.

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