Dont Mince Words

I’m relatively tall, so finding available tall, age-appropriate men is a challenge and it has been for decades. I was blasted with “height discrimination” responses when my LA Times piece ran. Now I’m a decade older and a half-inch shorter. I have relaxed my standards on a case-by-case basis and I continue to not learn from my prior lessons.

I recently had a date with a guy whose profile stated he was 5’10”.  When we lined up a lunch date, he texted to let me know he was 5’9” and had a golf shirt on.  I changed out of my heels and put flats on.  When I met him at the hostess station, we did not see eye-to-eye. I had a nice view of the top of his head.

A man can lie about his cock size because chances are we’re never gonna get that far for me to validate . But height?  Come on. Lying just shows a lack of confidence. And don’t say I discriminate. My last boyfriend in Los Angeles was 5’5” and he was smart and confident and honest about his height.  Could we have been a successful long-term relationship?  No, because I’m long-waisted and sex with short people creates a bit of a fit problem.  I’m like a surf board with toothpick-length legs. The best way to explain the physics is to say short people can kiss my bellybutton.  They are so far down there I feel like I need a megaphone and a playbook to communicate.

Get the visual?  It just doesn’t work.  But it’s been a lot of trial and error for me to learn this.  It’s not that I like tall guys as much as I need tall guys.

But that’s not the real problem.

Inventory is the real problem. The shortage is due to my short girlfriends who insist they need to date guys over six-feet tall.  Why?  If you are 5’1” – 5’4” do you really need all those extra, wasted inches?

With heels and hair that really leaves me nothing…except the men that lie.

I hate beginning new relationships late in the year. I freeze activity from Thanksgiving through Valentine’s day in order to avoid awkward invites to family events and eat bad chocolate. This year I was moving across country, getting settled, and dealing with my mother’s death. It was a perfect time not to date.

I kicked off the new dating season by meeting a friend of a friend. As a favor to her, I connected with him on Facebook and decided to meet on his day off “next Friday.” Well, that Friday was Valentine’s day and I didn’t realize it, but it was ‘brews and blues’ at a local ale house, so how bad could it be.

During the week, I got to know the guy better and it was not a pretty picture. He’s still married but trying to divorce his wife of 20-some years. His house needs to sell but mortgage is underwater. He lives with a high-functioning autistic 19 year-old.  He lost his job during the down turn and is now an hourly employee.

I showed up because where there’s beer, there’s a way. And I need to get out. He was short and petite and wreaked of cigarettes. I had an IPA while he sipped on  diet coke. The band was good, but I was safely home after the second set. The next day, I discovered through a Facebook post that I had attended an AA event. That explained the slow service from the bar, the 5 p.m. start time, and the lack of drinking. I suppose he was testing himself since he mentioned his sponsor was on speed dial.

This was my inaugural date for the 2014 dating season. When you aim low, it can only get better.

I’m embarrassed to admit my first date of the year was in December, but after living in Santa Barbara it’s easy to give up on dating.  As a distraction from the fleas I was dealing with, I agreed to meet Mike for lunch.  When he suggested Ruby Tuesday’s, I knew I was going to get blog material.

Salad bar for two and good conversation, but he had an air of cockiness.  I wasn’t sure why, but I could feel it.  As the check came, he opened his wallet and pulled out a coupon and made the waitress re-total.  When she laid down the new portfolio, he opened and said “if we split it, you can give me $6.”  Yes, that is six dollars.

He walked me outside and hugged me.  I told him it was nice meeting and pivoted on my heels to get to my car and laugh.  Two days later, he was texting me trying to book a second date.  I should of been direct and said I wasn’t interested, but instead I just was honest in another way.  “I’m unpacking and buying furniture. I really want to get through this before I leave next weekend.”

Mike must be a man continuously on defense.  His response was not sympathetic or understanding.  “Ah, excuses.  OK.  I get it.  Typical Richmond girl. Par for the course. Ur a arrogant Richmond bitch like all the others.”

I’m excited.  I’ve been here a week and I’m already typical.  Who says things move slow in the south?