I first met Ramona when I was in college. She was kind of chunky then, with big glasses and bad skin. She was an art major and she dressed kind of funky. I guess you could say that she had her own kind of style. Unfortunately her independent flair was not really what the majority of guys found sexy or even attractive, including me.
Even though she was an art major and I was into manufacturing technology, we had some of the same program requirements, and ended up taking a computer graphics design class together. She needed the class for her degree program and I needed the class as a prerequisite for AutoCAD. We were assigned to do a group project together, and though we had taken several classes together had never actually spent any time with each other, or even spoke before then.
We were almost total opposites from the beginning. I ran track and hung out on the periphery of the popular crowd. She smoked weed and hung out on the periphery of the avant-garde, beatnik, artistic sect. I dated mostly 2nd tier cheerleaders and athletes, she was the "fat friend," and wing girl to most of the really pretty, or just really slutty, art chicks.
While working on our project, we were forced to spend a lot of time together. Human nature being as it was, caused me to take a hard look at her. I guess it forced her to look at me as well. Anyway one night, we'd been having a long conversation that gradually left the project and became more personal. My date for the evening arrived to spring me, and I was kind of sad to leave Ramona. I could also see that she wasn't happy about it either. The next afternoon when we met at the computer lab, Ramona was really cold to me.
"OK, what did I do now?" I asked her.
"You're a fucking asshole," she said, almost in tears.
I grabbed her arm and escorted her out of the lab, to avoid creating a scene. In the park across the street we sat down on a bench and I told her not to move. I ran and grabbed a soda for me and her favorite juice from the cart that sold them nearby.
Now that we were comfortable, the argument could proceed without distraction or embarrassment on either side.
"So why am I an asshole?" I asked smiling.
"Because you are!" she said, wiping the tears from her face.
"Even though you're a Jock/techno weenie with no artistic soul, I thought you were different," she said. "We were having a nice time, and I was really starting to think ... And then you ... with that whore."
"Are you mad at me because I went on a date?" I asked incredulously.
"Fuck no!" she spat. "It's just that all of you guys are alike. You don't want a relationship with a woman who really feels something for you and loves you. You just wanna get your dick wet, with some big breasted bimbo with no brains."
"Well" I said calmly. "The big breasted bimbos are smart enough to do one thing that gives them the advantage, whether it involves dating, relationships, or getting guy's dicks wet."
She looked at me dubiously and asked, "What's that?"
"They ask," I snapped. "They communicate. They do something to let the guy know that they're interested."
She couldn't think of a thing to say, she just sat there balling up her fists and steaming. I could almost see smoke coming out of her ears and I wanted to defuse the situation and see where we really stood, so I reached over, took those giant glasses off her nose, (they were really bad, and in the way) and I kissed her. Not just a little peck, but a pretty good passionate smooch. I later found out that it was her first time kissing a guy that wasn't a relative. That first kiss was followed up with an even better one, when she relaxed and opened her lips a little bit and our tongues started to massage each others uvulas. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her to me and we didn't leave that park bench for a long time.
The next few weeks were a whirlwind of activity. We finished the project (got an A+), and started dating. Ramona, got contacts, saw a dermatologist, and started dressing a little more normally. I never asked her to give up her bohemian outfits, but as we started to go out more she needed more things to wear. You know women; she'd ask me to go shopping with her and ask my opinion about things. I would mention how everyone wore jeans, including artists. She would then say she was too fat for pants. I'd then tell her that I loved her curves and how, some men loved to see a well rounded ass on their women. I reminded her about the artist Rubens and his voluptuous models. She bought jeans and looked great in them. I'd tell her that her peasant tops and sweat shirts didn't really go well with the jeans or skirts she was wearing. And she'd say that I just wanted to see her tits. And I'd tell her that she was right, but they were mine anyway and she was just carrying them for me.
Sex with Ramona was like screwing a fairy princess. While it wasn't wild and uninhibited, it was special just the same. It was unhurried and it was as if every stroke only served to bring us closer together. Since I was her first, I tried to make it fun and special for her as well. After a while she got more into it and actually started to demand it from me. We never got too kinky and she definitely wasn't into giving me blow jobs but I took what I could get because I loved her so much.
A few weeks later she looked in the mirror and told me, that she looked just like a bigger version of the big breasted bimbos that she hated so much. I told her, maybe she was, but she was my BBB.
We were very happy and after we graduated, we got engaged. I went to work for an automotive design firm and Ramona did layouts for an art magazine.
My family loved Ramona and welcomed her with open arms. Ramona's mom and sister were the only family she had. They were under-whelmed by me to say the least. I once heard her sister telling someone at our engagement party that Brad (me) was alright if you like that sort of guy. But I was just too normal and was probably squelching her artistic vision. Ramona looked beautiful and happy, but I over heard her mom telling her sister that she thought we were getting married because Ramona was pregnant, and it wouldn't last.
Over time we proved them both wrong. We stayed happy and in love. At a party for our 7th anniversary her mom started to ask when she was going to become a grandmother. Ramona and I were her only chance for grandchildren because her sister had come out of the closet a year previous.
"We're trying mother," said Ramona quickly.
We had been trying for a few years, but it hadn't happened.
"Well, don't worry about it, I made appointments for you both," said Maddie, Ramona's mom.
She had taken the liberty of making appointments for us with a fertility clinic. Naturally mine was a week earlier, because I suspect she thought that the problem had to be with me.
Anyway, I went to my appointment, got blood drawn, jacked off to some really dirty porn to give them a sperm sample and was found to be A-OK.
When Maddie got the news, she suggested that we should just practice more, until we got the job done, so she could be a grandma while she was still sexy.
Ramona's appointment was different though, and changed our lives forever. We did find out that she had several problems with her reproductive organs, that would make it while not "impossible," for us to have children, "extremely," implausible. That night I held her and cuddled with her while she cried herself to sleep. I told her that we could always adopt, or get any of a number of treatments that were available now. Inwardly, I hated the shit out of her mother, for driving this situation to where it was.
"If you want a divorce, you can have it," she told me through her tears.
"I'd never leave you for anything unless you made me, Mona," I told her.
"My mom said, you'll cheat on me so you can have kids," she said.
"Mona, I'd never cheat on you, you're my life," I said.
She looked me in the eye, and asked "Why would you want to stay with a fat girl that can't have kids?"
I looked her back in the eyes, making sure she could watch my every expression and told her, "Because I love you, more than anything, and it would kill me to be without you."
I think she calmed down a little then, and went to sleep, but to be honest those days are such a blur now that I can't remember all of the details. Two days later the clinic called and asked to see us. We sat down with a doctor and were concerned when she said that she had referred Ramona's tests to a specialist. We were even more shocked to find out that Ramona was in the early stages of a very aggressive strain of Cancer.
All of the pieces fell into place then. It explained why at 25 she was always tired for no reason. It explained the soreness of her body some days and her often irritability and mood swings. It also terrified the life out of me.
Luckily for us we had caught it early enough that the prognosis for her survival was good. She referred us to a cancer specialty facility, and set up an appointment for the very next day.
Ramona had a very long and relatively invasive battery of tests performed. I took leave from work and stayed with her the whole time. I was in the room with her holding her hand through every test, and cheering her up while we waited for each result.
.... There is more of this story ...