If you remember, I had a date this past weekend. It was a first and last (I’m realizing that really is as common as they show on TV…) date, and while height isn’t exactly the reason why I am no longer interested in him, it might be a factor in why he is no longer interested in me.
And I think it may be a bigger factor than I ever realized.
I say this because my Tinder matches are dwindling. There are fewer and fewer that swipe right when I do. The only discernible difference? I put my height on my profile.
My intentions were to make things easier so I wouldn’t have another situation like with the Comedian. He and I had talked about my height. I knew he was shorter than me, and even though I wasn’t comfortable with the height difference, it was the least of the things that I was uncomfortable with where he was concerned. He swore it wasn’t an issue, but like I said, it was one of the first things he said to me.
A lot of the guys put their heights on their profiles, though some of them have said they don’t know why they do that. There are several where the guy will say “Since everyone seems to put their height, I’m ____.” I occasionally use that to open conversation, on the rare occasion that I’m the one to initiate the conversations with my Tinder matches.
I’ll tell them about the time that I was on a date and a guy asked me to change shoes in the middle of the meal because he was uncomfortable with the fact that my shoes made me taller than him.
Mr. Nice Guy thought that was ridiculous, and each of the guys I’ve said that to also said it was ridiculous.
Speaking of Mr. Nice Guy, he popped back up in my Tinder search. I swiped left, and then thought that was a mistake. I should have swiped right, just to see what would have happened. Would he have forgotten that we had already met and swipe right for me again? Maybe he lost my number and we could reconnect and try again. He was fun and really good for my ego for a bit.
If he pops back up, we’ll give it a shot.
Back to the shoe thing…
When I told the Comedian I had sneakers in my car, if he wanted me to go change right quick, he responded by saying that we weren’t going for a run, so no. It was sweet of him, and mildly funny, but I think he would have preferred that I change my shoes. He kept looking up at me and then down at my feet, and commented on my shoes a few times, forcing me to justify my choice in footwear.
They’d been modest. It was a pair of lightly heeled cowboy boots. I’d chosen them because I could wear jeans with them, and they were comfortable, but still slightly sexy. I had just recently gotten all of my shoes out of storage and had been wearing different shoes to get back into the habit of wearing heels. These were maybe 2 inches… Maybe.
It was awkward, and I didn’t want to go through that again. So, I put my height on my profile.
Now, I don’t think I’m that unusually tall. I’m shorter than most of the men I date, and there are plenty of my students, male and female, that tower over me as if I was actually short! In Hollywood, the actresses are either way shorter than me or just a bit taller than me.
Jennifer Lawrence is 5’9″, for goodness sake!
I’d say I was average. Maybe slightly (very slightly) above average for a girl, but there are plenty of people of both sexes taller than me.
And to further illustrate that I didn’t want height to be a problem, I added a pic of my tallest shoes.
I explained that yes, that was my shoe, so if it was really going to be an issue, swipe left.
I may need to take that down because I have hardly had any worthwhile matches since then.
I had originally been afraid that I’d end up with some guy with a foot fetish trying to crawl through my phone to get to me… But that hasn’t happened.
I have had four guys try to solicit a “no strings attached” sort of sexual rendezvous.
The first was the “Let’s get naked” guy.
Next was a guy who wanted me to be his “minion,” which, as he defined it, meant that I’d spend a lot of time naked and at his beck and call. Not a horrible proposition if he could offer me something worth submitting to his demands for. I like the idea of being submissive, but it requires a great deal of trust. When he asked for my number, I tried to engage him in
verbal foreplay intellectual stimulation first, and he responded by telling me to just give him my number, or to “do as I was told,” before I’d be forced to get a spanking.
I decided not to play with him. He needs to earn the right to get my number, not demand it before I’ve decided I want to play with him.
The next was a college professor, recently divorced, who said he didn’t want anything serious; he needed to take some time to just focus on him. When I asked him what he liked he told me he just liked a girl who could get off… The implication being that he had been with several girls who couldn’t do that.
Let’s stop right there for a second. That’s one of those “let it sink in” kind of statements.
I don’t think he realizes that he just told me that his skills are lacking. I mean, let’s be real for a minute! If a girl isn’t getting there, there’s a lack of chemistry or a lack of communication. Seeing as I tried to engage him in verbal foreplay for a bit and he just kept repeating that he wanted a girl who could get off… often, with no description of what he likes to do to get her there, or anything, I have serious doubts about his abilities.
What that says to me is that he’s one of those get in, get out, basic fellas.
There’s no play in that. No skill. No attempts to please anyone. Just insert tab “A” into slot “B,” and repeat. I need more stimulation than that, and I’m pretty easy to get to the point.
One of the things I like about the Boy is that he always gets me there, with rolling waves of pleasure. We’re talking multiples. Over and over again. The man’s got skills! Let me tell you!
The reason why I used to get frustrated with our discussions about “tea” was because tea with us it’s not just ordinary grocery store tea. It’s like organic, gourmet imported from the promise land kind of tea!
Having said that, the regular cheap tea from the dollar store can get me there, too… if I were to lower myself enough to drink that. Even a home-brewed cup of tea only takes me less than ten minutes to finish… Not rolling waves, like with the Boy, but it leaves me satisfactorily satiated.
It occurs to me that this somewhat new euphemism drastically changes the meaning of the name of my blog.
I kind of like it…
Anyhow, this music professor on Tinder told me that he likes to have tea a lot, but it seems that he can’t find a partner that enjoys their tea. He surely keeps trying to pour a cup for them, though!
I am sad for him.
The latest one who tried to engage me in a just sex kind of situation was just dumb. He tried to entice me with words for a minute, telling me that he had an “8 inch snake” that he was looking for a place “to let it rest and swell.” He started the conversation by asking me what I wanted to do to unwind. It wasn’t worded properly. His verb tense suggested that he meant that moment… Was he propositioning me? I was unsure.
I asked “what did he have in mind?” It’s innocuous. It can be taken as flirty or straight forward. It’s slightly suggestive, but not enough to mean sex if the other person doesn’t go to the sex place with it.
He suggested “Twister Truth or Dare.”
He got points for originality…
And then he just got dumb!
He sent messages in lightning fast, rapid fire succession, not giving me any opportunity to answer one without sending 4 more, changing topics between basic info (height, location, etc.) and sexy talk (he was having a visual of me naked waiting for him…)
He was trying, really hard, but it was disjointed. When I had just about decided I’d give him a shot (specifically because he admitted he wasn’t looking for just a hookup, but would take that if it was offered…same as me, kind of), he fell asleep!
When he woke up, he told me that he’d been dreaming about sex with me. He specifically made a comment about my boobs and how huge they were.
That really is a trigger for me. See something other than my boobs, please, people!
I have an amazing mind, even though I don’t parade my brain around on my chest as vividly as I do my breasts, or in my hands like the Ood from Doctor Who.
And if you can’t tell I’m an intelligent individual with more than just a great rack to offer you, then I don’t have time for you.
I deleted him this morning.
All of the guys who have been attractive and seemingly intelligent have not swiped right for me. And some who had swiped right are starting to disappear.
Apparently height is a really big detractor.
It’s frustrating because I have a lot to offer. I’m a good catch. I am finally starting to believe I’m pretty because of the number of guys who (before they found out I was a giantess) would swipe right and start a conversation by telling me how beautiful I was, and what a great smile I had. And I do have a great set of tits…
But I’m intelligent, too. And that’s a negative thing apparently.
And now I’m too tall on top of all that?
And the one person in the world who sees past all of that and gives me an amazing cup of tea is struggling to be even just my friend at the moment…