Relationships Blog

Dating Diary

April 4, 2008: falling short of expectations

Linda Franklin

This week Linda Franklin meets a delightful Lilliputian who challenges her 'height-ist' tendencies

Sometimes a guy can have everything going for him except one vital thing. Ross was an investor of some sort, very nice to talk to, not funny but bright and empathetic, had a nice face from his photo, owned a large house in a toney part of London and a villa in Marbella, and drove a Bentley. We'd been chatting on email and by phone for a few weeks and I liked him. He suggested driving down one evening and taking me for dinner at the Hotel du Vin and, of course, I said yes. I said I'd meet him in the bar.

I was sitting in a comfy seat having a drink when I was tapped on the shoulder. 'Linda!' said a warm and now familiar voice. And I looked up to see his smiling face. But - as I stood up to greet him - it was like something out of Alice in Wonderland: it felt as if I'd magically grown twelve inches and just kept rising and rising - way above him. I bent down to kiss him. Now I am not particularly tall, but neither am I that short at five feet six - and I had heels on. But good God the man was tiny! Barely five feet high!

'Lovely to see you at last,' he said. 'I'll go and get some drinks.'

And I watched, dumbfounded, the back of him as he trotted off: tiny little haunches smaller than a jockey's. It was like being on a date with someone the size of a nine year old! Oh-My-God!!! as teenagers say. I thought back to what height he'd put on his profile and thinking maybe it was five feet but I'd assumed it was a typo. But it wasn't. It was for real. How sad: all the money in the world wasn't going to make up for those missing inches. I hoped desperately I wouldn't see anyone I knew in here and bade him sit down quickly when he came back, dwarfed by a bucket of champagne, it seemed. Honey, I thought, there is just no way!

I was very pleased when they said our table was ready and was able to get him onto a padded seat with those pint size pins hidden under a table cloth. The waiter had a cushion in his hand and I wondered for a frantic second if he was going to ask Ross if he wanted to sit on it - but instead he put it behind my back.

'I love this place,' said Ross. 'I could eat a horse!'

Really? I thought, you don't look as if you could eat a sparrow!

'And always good sized portions,' he continued. 'I can't stand places that palm you off with tiny portions, can you?'

No, I agreed, I couldn't.

I know I am deeply shallow, but I just couldn't handle it. We are a 'height-ist' society when it comes to men - just as we are 'looks-ist' when it comes to women. My main thought was to get him through the meal and out of here pronto before I was spotted with him. I galloped through the starter and we were finishing the main course when I told him: 'I'm sorry, but I'm very tired. I had a bit of a late night last night and it's catching up with me.'

'Yes, suits me fine,' he said. 'We'll skip pudding and coffee - I've got a drive back and I just wanted to meet you, to put a face to the voice...'

'And a body to the emails...'

And then my young lover walked into the bar. With a group of friends. You might remember him? The muscle-boy seventeen years my junior I started a no-strings relationship with some seven years ago? I haven't seen him at all since I've been checking out what might be out there for me, though I told him what I was doing and he's texted a few times to see if I wanted to meet up for a cup of tea and catch up. But we all know what he really means and I'd said no. Once he texted to ask how the dating scene was going and I'd said: great, spoilt for choice!

Now here I was with a mini-man who would come up to somewhere round about his pierced nipple. How was I going to get out of this and still keep face?

To be continued...

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Reader comments

Linda, with your blind date problem, all you had to do was say you are his mother.

Posted by: THE ARGUIST | 30/04/2008 15:36:52


 

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