To heel or not to heel?

That was the question of the night.

For the record, I love being tall.

In a world where everyone seems more and more homogeneous, I love sticking out. Being a 6 foot tall woman (ok, ok...5'11 and 3/4s in flat feet) is fun. Wherever I go, people notice me. I'm different but in a good way.

I secretly loved being taller than the boys as we all lined up in eighth grade gym class. I am so much cooler than you, I would silently say to each of them with my eyes. I was always enthusiastically recruited for basketball and was a pretty good Center despite my junior high dream of being a cheerleader which never came to fruition. How could it? Cheerleaders are cute and short while I was long and had the wing span of a small car. When my sister, who is equally as tall, and I walk through a room we still always wonder why we get stares and then remember how odd it is to see two women as tall as us together.

So even though it might mean it takes longer to find pants that fit lengthwise. And that sometimes shorts, that on a person of normal height would appear, well, normal, suddenly seem a little risque on my lanky stems, I don't mind. Being tall is the bomb.

But in the dating world, suddenly being tall is, dare I say it, sort of a liability. I've had shorter men push my shoulders down as they stand next to me in bars saying, You're great but why do you have to be such a giant? (Yeah, Steph and I were 'thrilled' with this one). And though a lot of the guys I dated in college were much shorter than me and didn't seem to mind, suddenly I wonder if the guys I am meeting do care that I am noticeably taller than they are. I mean I can't do anything about it but it's still a valid concern.

So what does a tall, lanky lady do when the guy she hits it off with is 5'9"?
And what does she do when wearing heels means she is now 6'2" and he is still...
only...
5'9"?
So the question really is, to heel or not to heel?

This was my concern as I got ready to meet Patrick, who is the 5'9" man in question, for date #2 in NYC this past Tuesday night. Our first date had gone well. We had had a lot to talk about and he seemed sweet. He had kept my A.D.D.-length attention span rapt for a good part of two hours and that is no small feat. I had intentionally worn my sparkly, borderline magical sequined flats so as to meet him half way, in a sense. And while other men online and in person had made comments about my height, he did not mention it at all. So, for the time being, I felt like he hadn't even noticed. Or he noticed and just didn't care.

So as I put on my gloss and packed my purse, I had to finally make the decision. Do I wear the shoes that will make me 6'2"? Or do I shuffle into the city in my flats again and put off the 'unveiling' of the Woman Taller than Small Buildings?

I opted for the former, thinking that it was better to find out if he had height issues now rather than later and stood tall, shoulders back.

Upon getting to the bar, though, I rushed to sit. And I noticed I did not stand when he arrived. What the heck was my problem? Was it going to be more of an issue for me, instead?

Turns out the saga of being taller than most was to be the least of my worries that evening.
Patrick and I were chatting at the bar and the date seemed to be going ok. Not great, but at least ok. There was this spirited guy standing next to us. He seemed fun and kind of like he was a regular fixture at this particular bar so I struck up a conversation with him.

Big mistake. Huge.

Turns out he was the brother of Brian O'Halloran, Dante in the movie "Clerks". But this wasn't the problem. I liked this, knowing about Kevin Smith and Jersey, so this part was interesting. What wasn't interesting was how he continued to get more and more drunk, would not leave us alone despite our subtle requests, and how he uttered the following choice phrases:

(To Patrick) "Wow, man, you look so nervous." (Then to me) "Doesn't he look so nervous to be around you?"

"My brother is a loser. Such a loser."

(To Patrick) "Are you gonna marry her?"

(To me) "Are you gonna marry him?"

(To Patrick) "Dude, she's gorgeous. You better marry her."

(It almost got ugly when he said, to me) "Oh, you're 31 and he's 26? What's up, COUGAR?"

And with that, the date was a little, shall we say, hampered? Maybe this was fortuitous, though, as the conversation on this date was not going as well as last time had anyway. Patrick slipped into cas (as in the word casual) mode and started dropping F-bombs all over the place. Not at
Mr. McDrinksALot and his antics but just at life in general. We also ran out of things to talk about and there was a lot of silence. Eh, this is why you date--to see if there is anything there.

I had to leave and stood up to hug goodbye (the default greeting of goodbye on an 'ok-but-not-so-great' date) and he stood up, too. And yes, I was noticeably taller than he was. I felt myself hunch a little but then, before anyone could notice, I righted myself back to my elegant stature.

It is Friday and I still haven't heard from him. I'm not even sure I care. Either way, no matter what, I think I am going to just stick to 5'11" or taller from now on.

This tall drink of water cannot imagine not being able to wear heels.