Let’s get one thing straight: I’m a Tall Girl. Standing 5’11” in my bare feet, I am 7 inches taller than the average female. And the average male? 5’9”. This was a fact that I did not know, or feel inclined to find out, until I became a singleton three years ago. Tall men seemed to be in abundance during my earlier dating years and I took it for granted that I looked up to previous beaus, or at least, in the eye. Fast forward a good few many years of dating, marriage and dating yet again, and I am now all too aware of my height, male height, and all the differences in between. Sure, I had had boyfriends in the past who were my height, or even a tad smaller, but for my future match, I was adamant that any great date was to begin with someone who could tower over me even in my highest of heels. Call it unrealistic, but my mind was set.
When I first dipped my foot into the dating pond again, older (unfortunately), wiser (I hoped) and with more awareness of what I supposed would work for me this time round… I actually had a list of desirables for my future date. Top of the list (of course) was height; followed closely by a whole host of physical, intellectual and social attributes. Potential dates were harshly judged by their physical features and I would not even consider dating anyone who did not meet the requirements of the minimum height of 6’foot, alongside the ubiquitous University degree, plus the other 10 or so ‘vital’ statistics that I dreamed up for my prospective suitor.
I became a dating Ninja: in my mind, time was short, and I had a tall soul mate to meet! Men who did not meet my narrow criteria were swiftly disregarded as I ploughed forth in my quest for perfection. Along the way, I met some fantastic guys, some of whom I shared laughs and some incredible dates with, but I could never quite assimilate them in my mind with my ideal of someone that I wanted to establish a long term relationship with, as there was always something about them that I deemed not quite ‘perfect.’
Several years, numerous dates, and a few relationships later, I have come to the conclusion that the perfect match does not exist. Just as I am not perfect, neither are other people. After some soul searching, and analysing what I consider to really make me happy and feel content, I have duly edited my long list down to three simple things: kindness, humour and intelligence. It’s not what a person has to offer in terms of physical attributes, or whether or not they can wax lyrical about poetry that you have both read; it is simply a case of a spark of attraction, followed by a genuine desire to want to be in the other one’s company.
Embrace your imperfections; embrace other people’s imperfections: it’s who we are and what makes us unique. And hey, if you are a fraction shorter than me, than that’s ok: I will dig out my flats.