After downing several dirty martinis over happy hour and recounting tales of frustration with Hong Kong’s metrosexual elite, Alex, a voluptuous gal in her early 30’s and a veteran of the Hong Kong scene, proclaimed to her girlfriends: “I’m tired of all the modelizers and womanizers in this town. From now on I’m only dating chubby guys. I’m serious!” “We should all try it!”, chimed an equally frustrated and martini-ed Selena.

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Though the three of us howled with laughter at the idea of collectively becoming “chubby chasers,” laughter soon gave way to intrigue as a whole new realm of dating possibilities started to open up. Of course, the initial reaction to the thought of exchanging a six-pack for a keg was “no way” but is there something that these guys might have to offer that their less dimensionally challenged counterparts cannot? Selena and Alex went on to state their case for guys with 'fattitude':

Selena: You never have to worry about them going to Dragon-I and chatting up models. They’d rather stay in with the remote control and a box of pizza.

Alex: They never give you any grief if you gain a few pounds. They always think you’re fabulous! And they are really loyal because they’re happy to have you.

Selena: They’re funnier than most guys because they have to compensate for being out of shape by having better personalities.

Alex: They’re sweeter than fit guys, like big teddy bears.

Selena: They are good cooks and they like to eat! You never have to feel guilty about eating!

Alex: They’re possibly better in bed because . . . well. . . there must be some reason.

Selena: Oh, and they’re too lazy to cheat on you!

What started out as happy hour musings, had quickly turned into a chubby-chasing mission. But before calling ourselves Ishmael and shouldering our harpoons in search of blubbery prey, we needed to change our locale. “If we want to be chubby chasers, we have to hang out at the hotspots.” suggested Selena. “You know, like Ben and Jerry’s, Krispy Creme!! Or, I know let’s go to a pub! There’s never been a shortage of chubby hotties at any pub I’ve ever been to.”

We armed ourselves with an arsenal of appetizing pick-up lines like “Your fridge or mine?”, “Can I rub the Buddha’s belly for good luck?”, and “Is it true that bigger is better? ” We decided to make our way over to Lockhart Road in Wanchai- where the pubs overflow like bellies over the belts of their male clientele.

As predicted, Wanchai was crawling with chubby chaps and our voyeurism at the pub gave new meaning to the term “weightwatchers.” None of us mustered up enough courage to land any heavy-hitters that night-- we were too busy giggling over our plan (and our jello shots) to actually meet anyone. After we had sufficiently imbibed enough liquor, the three of us made a pact to go on a date with least one heavyweight honey and, in a few weeks time, we’d compare our experiences. Within three weeks, we were excited to reconvene and recant our tales from the stout side.

Selena was the first to strike. She met her big-boned beau at the Captain's bar at the Mandarin. Jonathan was a dashing European with longish slicked back hair and an abundant spare tire that matched the size of his ample aristocratic wallet. He made no apologies for his girth, dubbing it “the prosperity look”. While Jonathan was no statue of David, he more than made up for it for his charm, wit and persistence. It didn’t hurt that he was also ultra-successful. He basically swept Selena off her feet and romanced her over a five-course meal at a fancy French restaurant. When it came time for dessert, there was absolutely no guilt about ordering it, much less finishing every last bit of it and licking the plate. They’ve been hot and heavy ever since (although Jonathan may have been hot and heavy before they even met!). Next summer, Selena’s portly prince is talking about taking her to Panarea for a posh pasta-fest. Selena thought about asking him to go on a diet and start working out for health reasons, but Jonathan was such a catch that she decided she didn’t want him to lose weight and start trolling Dragon-I for models.

Alex, unfortunately, didn’t have the same good luck. She met her tubby turn-on at a pub in Lan Kwai Fong a few days after deciding to “go chub”. Alex found Nigel’s green eyes captivating enough to distract her from his portly physique. When they first got to talking, they hit it off instantly since they both came from the same background and led similar expatriate lifestyles. After only a few dates, Alex thought she had found the chubby lover of her dreams. However, not too long after they had a rumple in the hay together, he started to dodge her phone calls and text messages. After another week of unanswered questions and frustrated wonderings, she received a text message from his phone that said “Please stay away from my husband. We have three kids.” Alex learned the hard way that even men of more substance in terms of mass may not necessarily be “men of substance.”

Moreso than for the other girls, chubby chasing for me was a totally new experience. I’m a gym devotee and a lover of sports. I also prefer to eat unprocessed food and in moderation. Hence, I’ve always been inclined to date jock and fitness types. In fact, I wasn’t entirely sure I’d find a hefty hunk that I could be attracted to. However, I had been going through a dry spell so, with an open mind, I accepted our dating challenge.

My rotund Romeo appeared when I was having a coffee one day with my best gay friend Doug. Doug and I were immersed in conversation when we both noticed an extremely attractive man walk up to the barrista and order a vente mocha frappacino with whip cream.. When he turned around, I got a fuller look at him and I was surprised to see that he was somewhat pear-shaped with a protruding backside and balanced by a voluminous midsection.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking” snapped Doug. “You’re wondering- can I go there? But then you decided- no way he’s too out of out of shape for me.” After a second look, Doug said “Well, he may have a lot of ‘junk in the trunk’ but he’s yummy. I’d hit that. They don’t call them ‘love handles’ for nothing!” I laughed out loud at Doug’s eerily precise narrative of my inner thought process, but since I had made a pact to date a heavyweight honey, I seized the opportunity to talk to this man who would otherwise be a far cry from my type.

Jason was intelligent, funny and had a smile so hot it could melt a gallon of Hagen-Daaz (but probably not before he could finish eating it). Although we met several times over the course of the next couple of weeks, he always seemed a bit nervous around me. Perhaps he was insecure about himself. I couldn’t quite place my finger on it, but I did find it somewhat endearing. Finally, one night after bar-hopping and consuming more than a fair share of alcohol, I found myself up to the task of going back to his place.

He wanted to watch TV. No surprise there! Actually I was happy to sit on the couch entwined in my big teddy bear’s arms. I found his body to be quite cushion-like hence somewhat comforting- like a pillow or a fleece blanket on a cold night. Underneath I could feel that he actually had a strong body buried beneath that outer layer of adipose.

We started to kiss and the passion migrated into his bedroom. I could tell he wasn’t totally comfortable with disrobing as he didn’t want to turn on the light, but he did put some music on his laptop. From the unflattering uplighting of the computer I spied the rolls of fat around his hairy belly. His tight jeans appeared to be squeezing his gut out of his pants. It was not visually pleasing- in fact, I audibly gasped. But then I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and concentrated on the fact that he was such a great guy. One thing led to another and we passed a wonderful loving night together. I did notice however, that there were several positions that didn’t work as well as they might have with a slimmer man, and he did become exhausted much faster than a fit guy would.

We went on a few more dates, but it was enough to realize that Jason was a lazy guy with a low energy level—too low for a woman like me. Eventually, he became too lazy in the end to answer any of my text messages, even though he always had the energy to down pints with the boys at the pub. I decided that chubby lover thing was just not for me- at least not this one.

So what did we all learn from our foray into chubby-chasing? We decided that good and bad people come in all shapes and sizes. Body shape doesn’t matter that much when you keep your mind open to love that transcends its physical manifestations. What really matters is someone’s heart and the chemistry and connection that you feel with that person. As for me, I decided I needed to be with someone that has common interests. And because I’m a person that never watches TV and loves being physical (and fine, because I just like fit, hot guys with muscles that just glisten in the sun), I’ll be looking for my next boyfriend while he’s jogging down Bowen Road with a great six-pack, not stumbling down Lockhart Road in Wan Chai with an open six-pack.