Yesterday was a great result for equality.  I’m all for equal marriages (even though my local MP opposed – shame on him,) but it did cause me to question my own prejudices after I was recently accused of something so heinous, so incredibly offensive and inappropriate, I just had to share it with you.


(Mind you, it was all true.  But that’s not the point.)


Yesterday, I was told I was heightist.  That’s right.  ME?  HEIGHTIST?!?  Can you believe it?


Now that I’m back on the dating scene again, the freaks … they just keep-on-a-comin’.  This week has involved approaches from a man wearing pink trousers, a man wearing two diamante earrings, a man wearing a Sylvester Stallone jumper, (that’s right, Sly’s crinkly old face looking back at me – not THE sexiest thing I could be looking at,) and a man with his kids’ names tattooed all over his hairy, spotty back.


Oh how I’ve missed it.


But then I spotted someone normal.  Someone who had a nice face.  A beard (win.)  A sultry, ‘come hither’ sparkle in his eyes.  Oh, and he lived local – always a bonus.


I viewed his profile and quickly took down his particulars …. but something was missing.  Alarm bells definitely started ringing.  He hadn’t written his height down.




OK, by now I’ve seen a photo of him strolling on the beach, obligatory shot of him lying in bed looking up at his camera – hell, I’ve even seen him posing in front of his cream curtains, just so we can all get the full effect of how good looking he truly (thinks) he is.


But let me just point something out.  I’ve been out with guys my height before.  I’ve even been out with guys a little bit shorter.  And that’s fine (just about.)  But when I asked him how tall he was, I didn’t expect him to answer, “5ft 5”.


I know.  Bless the little short fella.


He took me by surprise.  Not literally (unfortunately.)  I’d looked at his proportions.  Checked out the shin length (really.)  And decided that he had to have been at least my height.


Alas, he was, in fact, a midget, and as much as I’d like to say it doesn’t matter … it really, really does.


I don’t think I’m an overly shallow person.  Particularly as I’ve gotten older I’m much more interested in meeting someone who is intelligent, funny, (HOT) and interesting.  BUT …. and, just like my derriere, it’s a big BUT … some things I just can’t get on board with and bending down to kiss my man is one of them.


I’m sure Verne Troyer is a smashing bloke.  I think Warwick Davies is hilarious.  It’s just not for me.


Does anyone have a much shorter boyfriend and think I’m destined to die alone?




Related posts: