Curves and Tenderness
When I first joined LoveBBW.com, I’ll admit, I was nervous. Not because I didn’t believe in love, but because I wasn’t sure if I believed it could happen for me again.
At 35, I had a great job, a small but cozy apartment, and friends who adored me. But when it came to dating, I’d grown tired of pretending — pretending to be smaller, quieter, or less of myself just to fit into someone else’s idea of “perfect.”
So one Sunday morning, armed with coffee and courage, I decided to do something new. I opened my laptop and signed up for LoveBBW.com, a site where I could simply be Ella, cheerful, curvy, confident (well, most days), and ready to find someone who appreciated all of me.
My profile read:
“Foodie, amateur baker, and karaoke enthusiast. I love Sunday brunch, laughing until my sides hurt, and taking long walks — especially if there’s ice cream at the end. Looking for kindness, humor, and someone who doesn’t mind a woman with extra love to give.”
Two days later, a message popped up:
“I’d never say no to brunch or ice cream. Bonus points if you can sing better than I can — which, trust me, isn’t hard.”
His name was Jack, 37. His photo showed a man with kind eyes, a crooked grin, and an expression that seemed to say, I see the world and I like what I see.
I replied:
“That depends — are we talking soft-serve or gelato? I take my dessert debates very seriously.”
He wrote back:
“Gelato, obviously. It’s classier. Though I’m willing to be convinced over dinner.”
I laughed, out loud, alone in my living room. And that was the start.
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We began chatting every evening through LoveBBW.com, about food, travel dreams, and the terrible singing we both apparently excelled at. I told him I was learning to love myself again after years of hiding behind dark clothes and self-deprecating jokes.
He said something that made me pause.
- Ella, the right person won’t ask you to shrink. They’ll make more space for you, in their arms and in their heart.
I didn’t know whether to cry or smile. I did both.
A week later, he asked if I’d like to meet.
- There’s a farmer’s market downtown this Saturday. - he said. - You can critique my fruit-picking skills. I’ve been told I’m hopeless with peaches.
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When I saw him for the first time, standing by the flower stall with a bunch of tulips in one hand and a hopeful smile, my nerves melted.
- Ella? - he asked.
- That’s me. - I said, grinning. - Are those for me or for your fruit-picking failures?
He laughed. “For you. I figured flowers were safer than peaches.”
We spent hours wandering the market — sampling cheeses, arguing over jam flavors, and laughing like old friends. At one point, he looked at me and said,
- You know, your profile didn’t do you justice.
I raised an eyebrow.
- Because I forgot to mention my impeccable taste in jam?
He shook his head.
- Because I didn’t know your laugh would sound like this.
My heart did a little somersault.
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That was eight months ago. Since then, Jack and I have shared countless meals, karaoke duets (terrible but enthusiastic), and Sunday morning pancakes. He says he fell for my confidence, but the truth is, being with him helped grow it.
Love, I’ve learned, isn’t about finding someone who changes you. It’s about finding someone who reminds you you’re already enough — and celebrates it.
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If you’re reading this and wondering whether to take that leap, I’ll say what I’ve learned: love doesn’t come when you fit a mold. It comes when you step into your own light — proudly, beautifully, just as you are.
LoveBBW.com didn’t just introduce me to Jack; it introduced me to a version of myself I’d been too shy to embrace — confident, joyful, and deeply loved.