It is a no-brainer that we all have a vision, a checklist of certain physical characteristics of what we find attractive, or what we are drawn to, when seeking out a future partner.
For me - it’s well…hmmm… dark eyes, big smile, nice arms, ohh…smells good and the X factor… he has got to be taller than me!
Just skim through many women’s online profiles and you’ll see the height factor as a minimum requirement listed boldly, and un-apologetically.
And I'm ashamed to admit it and I don’t quite understand why I don't like to date a short guy.
It’s not Iike l'm a tall person myself (5’4) but - hey, most men are meant to be taller than women, right??
It must be some primal thing?
Or is it that I feel more protected? Or more feminine?
Or do just want to wear heels?
Meh- it goes against all my feminist values. It’s so shallow of me.
But being picky about height ultimately is going to limit my chances of finding true love.
My rational mind (though somewhat desperately) yearns for the romance to kicks in…And hey - what if the chemistry is right? And what if we get lost in each other’s eyes? Why should height matter? As my old Italian (short) uncle used to say- height doesn't matter when you’re lying-in bed…(wink, wink- yuck!)
So- this is how I came to swipe right on the short guy.
Matty the photographer, was a skier, he had nice arms, he had a cute but rather large dog (in comparison to him) in his pics….hmmm.
He was also very chatty…cute smile to boot. And I bet if tinder had a scratch and sniff function he would have smelt good too. Tick! tick!
But there were no full body standing pics … how tall was he? (I was thinking.)
He must have read my mind as he asked me my height - he was quick to reply that his only a few centimetres shorter.
Sure…my mind processed… I could do that, I just won't wear heels.
So…the date was on.
Being proud of myself to having overcome my superficial short man complex, I arrived at the bar.
I threw caution to the wind and wore some small kitten heels. Thinking to myself - I’m not going to let stereotypes get in my way.
He text me to say he had arrived but I couldn't see him. I looked again and there he was.
Not a few centimetres shorter than me, but a whole head shorter - he came to my shoulder.
Instinctively, I wanted to run…. this (in my head) was like a Chihuahua dating a St. Bernard.
Not only was he short, short, he was midget short and very slender.
If he was standing behind me he could have passed for my adolescent son. So wrong.
I decided I couldn't be rude and was unprepared to make up an “emergency” get out story. I would stay for a drink and leave.
We sat down …surprisingly, he actually proved to be really good company and funny. Drinks turned into dinner and I started to reconsider my initial judgement… everything felt normal.
But as he excused himself to go to the bathroom and got up out of his chair ..his shortness was all too real.
Sadly, that was when I realised there was - NO WAY- I was going to get all hot and bothered over this guy.
He did ask me out again… but I told him that there was someone else on the scene.
A few nights later I got a few angry late-night (presumably drunk) texts from him saying that he knew it was because he was short that I didn't want to see him again. I felt like a hypocrite, worse still like a bitchy character from mean girls, but he was way too short and I wasn't attracted to him.
I’m sure men have lost interest in me for less.
So the moral of the story is -
I felt bad but, you like what you like.
And - Short men can be angry!!
I really hope he has found a nice, shorter girl to date.
P.S: However, I did (later on) go on to date another short man for quite a long time where his height did not matter to me. So, I guess the moral of the story is that it’s in finding right guy, short or not-short.