Slowly, this extreme standard of height waned, but I still felt awkward if he was near as tall as I was.
After all, shouldn’t the right man make me feel feminine and small?
In a weird twist of fate, a year into dating Jason, we were at another concert together, and we ran into my old childhood friend Mark.
When Mark shook hands with my husband, I realized that they stood at the exact same height.
When I dreamed of my future romances, all I thought about was how he’d make me feel.
”It was a year after college, and the person asking me that was a guy I had just started casually dating.
He actually was a couple inches taller than me, but the question caught me off guard. probably not,” I awkwardly admitted, embarrassed that I had gone with the two-inch wedges. ” She laughed at me and said, “Oh, I promise, your priorities are going to change.” “Not about that,” I replied. When Mark asked me to his dance months later, I not-so-politely declined—“Oh, Mark, you know we are just friends”—and instead accepted a later invitation from his significantly taller but significantly less charming friend.
Is it because we are constantly comparing ourselves to a tiny female archetype, in order to complement the prevailing tall and muscular male ideal?
Or have we bought the idea that we need to be smaller in order to be loved?