Please welcome back one of my fav guest bloggers, Maria Grazia Swan! Take it away, Maria...
I like tall men. I don’t mean Shaq tall, I mean about 5’10 to 6’. I think it has to do with the fact that I’m short. I’m about 5’1, and that’s only if I fluff my hair, otherwise my height drops below 5’.
This obsession with men’s height goes back to my teen years. It has to do with crowds. You see, if I walk in a crowd alone or with a short man, I feel like I’m suffocating, smothered, and above all, unnoticed. But walk through that crowd with a tall guy and voila, it’s like the parting of the Red Sea. I like that feeling a lot, so before going on a blind date I always inquire about height.
This blind date happened in a very unexpected way. I was shopping with my best friend Jen and as usual, she checks the racks of clothes with one hand while the other hand is busy texting. I hate that habit of hers. I had no idea who she was ‘conversing with’ but she had a big grin on her face so I figured it had to be a man. When she turned around and winked at me, I knew she was up to no good. Now I’m paying attention, I’m actually elbowing her and mouthing, “Who are you talking to?”
She is totally ignoring me while her fingers are tapping so fast I expect smoke to rise from that phone any minute now. Jen waits until we get to the car before telling me the news, we have a date for that evening; “Smile girl,” she says, “we are going to double date.”
Now, like I said, Jen is my best friend but that doesn’t mean we share the same taste when it comes to men. I remind her of that, but she isn’t letting go, she is on a mission. “You owe me one,” she says, “remember that time I told your mom you were spending the night at my house?” That was twenty five years ago and I want to forget so I agree, but I want to know how tall my date is. I’m keeping my eyes on the road and my hands on the steering wheel and I hear Jen sighing, then her fingers are tapping away on that phone again. “5’11,” she says, I sense a hint of arrogant satisfaction in her voice.
That evening I’m wearing my brand new platform shoes and my gauzy dress, and I sit and wait for Jen to pick me up with our dates. Time goes by, no Jen. My cell buzz and I know is Jen. “ It’s me, look I’m sorry, I need to stay home and watch my sister’s kid, my mother had to go back to work. I’m sending Skip to pick you up and we can hang around here until my mom gets back then we’ll catch a movie or something, okay?”
It’s not okay, but she already disconnected and I know she won’t answer if I call back. I’m fuming! Who the hell is Skip? Now there is a text message on my phone, “Skip is your date, take your time, I’m headed that way with Charles.”
Shit, that’s Jen for you. I hear an engine by the drive way and I peek from the mini blinds. A red Audi is parked by the house, I don’t see anyone in the car, then a car door slams, I wait, nothing. OMYGOD! A child like person walks around the car, coming toward my front door. He takes little steps, what else can he do with such short legs. Then it hits me, damn you Jen. That’s why she isn’t here; she knows I’ll kill her. I’m still standing by the window, frozen, what now? The doorbell chimes. I’m not moving, I’m holding my breath, afraid he’ll hear me breathing. This is a scene worth of a funny commercial, I’m surprise the little man can reach the door bell, maybe he carries a folding stool. He rings the doorbell again. I’m feeling like a miserable coward. I quietly remove my platform shoes, tiptoe to my bedroom and close the door. I don’t know when he finally gave up and left, but I turned off my cell phone and didn’t speak to Jen for a whole week.
~ Maria Grazia Swan
Maria Grazia Swan is an author and motivational speaker who shares relationship advice and guidance for women re-entering the social/dating scene. Maria empowers and encourages single women to be bold, fearless, and sexy in their pursuit of life and love after age 45. An award recipient from the Women’s National Book Association, Swan is the author of Boomer Babes: True Tales of Love and Lust in the Later Years (Leisure Books). Visit