One Size Does Not Fit All

If a man's profile says he is 6'3", does that mean that once when he was wearing shoes and had his hair spiked up a bit he was measured at a friends house with non standardized devices to be somewhere in the proximation of a 6 footer? Sorry Chris... it was fun grabbing a beer with you the other night but if you exaggerate about your height it does not bode well either for your inteligence or your integrity. Being a bit harsh? Too 'raggedy' an edge on this topic? Sorry. Being a tall woman means being rejected a lot in the dating world because of your height. I am lashing out.

Please be accurate gentlemen with at least the length of your body's stature... within a plus-or-minus one inch deviation. That's all I ask.

For the record, I'm not height-prejudice. I have definitely dated men shorter than me. Stop laughing. Most of the world is shorter than me (particularly among the Central Americans). And I have had awesome loving relationships with shorter men. The caveat being that they like me and my height.

Dated Joey in high school and early college. He was a whopping 5'6". There was no hiding the height difference. Joey was very thick and muscular so I used to joke that our surface area was actually the same (if that perplexes you please google 'surface area' - it's a geometric joke). I dated another guy in recent years named Hayden who was 5'10". He loved my height and always asked me to wear heals, then paraded me around like I was his model. He was proud of it. And both men made me feel very feminine, and I like to think I helped them feel masculine.

The date with Chris was fine other than the fact that the height issue did seem to be... well... an issue. One size does not fill all. Next please.

Saggy Nick, Shallow Ann

On impulse, I violated one of my own rules about not dating someone older than my Big Brother, and met Nick for a drink. Seems as though when people email me about Scrabble (I mention it in my profile because I can beat almost anyone at it and that's... well... important for people to know, right??) it opens a soft place in my heart and I get irrational. Anyway, the two hour date went fine. We actually had quite a bit in common, including places we've lived, our careers, passion for volleyball, etc. The conversation flowed easily, was balanced, and there were lots of laughs.

So this is why I hate myself:

1. He looks old, and I have a problem with it.

Who am I to judge a book by its cover? But alas... Nick is 38 and looks it. Has slightly weathered skin (aka, "saggy"), pronounced smile lines, graying hair, and wore stone washed jeans. Truthfully not a bad looking guy for nearly being 40, and a little fashion help would go a long way. But as I sat across from him, my immature ego was literally saying I am waaaaaay too young for him. My smile lines only show up when I'm really tired! I pull out the few grays hairs that I can find! And though my Raggedy Fashion could use some polishing of it's own, I certainly know enough not to role my jeans anymore. Yes I am resisting "looking" older, and walking arm in arm with a saggy 38 year old won't help my facade. Damn Ann. Don't have to worry about drowning in this pool of shallowness.

2. He asked me out on a second date, and I said "Yes".

To make matters worse, I didn't have the courage to say to him at the end of our pleasant date that I wasn't interested in him romantically. I cowarded out, and sheepishly said I would join him in a movie sometime soon. Maybe I am hoping once I venture out on date #2, that magically he will look younger and more appetizing. Or that I will recover from my obvious ageism and give a good guy a chance.

I think this is one of those things men hate about women. Sorry gentlemen. I lamed out.

Vegas Victor

It's been a quiet few weeks on the online dating front. And by quiet I mean boring. Definitely my busy schedule's fault, though I suppose some ebbs and flows in your enthusiasm for meeting people in cyberspace are only natural. Because of either fatigue or "growing wise", I have been more critical about the selections Match sends me, and just wasn't feeling the inspiration to put myself out there. That's not the winning attitude of a dating sales funnel manager! Snap out of it Raggedy Ann, before your yarn hair falls out and you are discarded as last year's toy. (Correction - last generation's toy).

So like I said - it had been a quiet... until last night. I had a high school relapse, and entertained a four hour phone conversation that put me to sleep just a smidge before sunrise. Enter Victor. On paper - or computer screen - Victor's profile is a lot like mine. Athlete, psychology and biology major, buddhist, unsure about wanting kids, and he's very tall. The only drawback I saw was that he lived in Vegas, but several fascinating emails convinced me it was worth getting to know him over the distance. And thankfully he hates Vegas. Job brought him there but he doesn't plan on staying. So any worries of a closet-substance-abusing-gambling-addict are at bay. For now.

The four hour conversation was absolutely FASCINATING. While there definitely was a slight professorial feel to it (he did most of the talking) - the topics were right up my alley. Health, energy, immune system, intuition, psychology, nutrition, exercise, philosophy. Victor is very educated and masterfully articulate. Hearing him talk about subjects that I have dedicated pieces of my life to was... well... invigorating. It was like taking a deep breath and exhaling in to total relaxation. To put it in a hippy California kinda way, it felt like we were on the same vibe.

Whether or not this ever amounts to anything more than this one half-a-work-day phone call, Victor was a sweet reminder of what it feels like to truly connect with another person. Remotely. Do I sound stoned? Maybe I am. I'd like to roll the dice on this one and see what fortune brings.