It’s not easy being short.

Last night, after a very nice time with someone at a Tori Amos concert at Radio City Music Hall, I met up with a tall acquaintance of mine at a club in the East Village. When my acquaintance told me the name of the club over the phone, it sounded like “Overline.” When I was looking for the place and trying to remember the name of it, all I could come up with was “Ovaltine.” It turns out it’s called Opaline.

My friend is maybe 6’2″ and very outgoing. He’s always getting guys’ phone numbers and going on dates. It’s pretty amazing to see him work it; I got to witness it three times last night.

I don’t like crowded clubs. I’m very shy in those situations, and my self-esteem always drops at least five notches. Also, I never think I’m going to meet anyone. Sure, there are tons of cute guys all over the club, but how am I supposed to find out which cute guy is compatible with me, if any?

And being short makes it worse. I stand there in a field of tall trees. People don’t even notice me as they push past me with their beer bottles. All 125 pounds of me gets knocked out of the way. I may as well be invisible.

Tall people seem to have it so much easier. They seem to have more power. More attractiveness. I watch my tall friend talk with another tall guy, and I just look up at both of them, these skyscrapers, and feel useless and impotent. I feel like the world was made for them and they just ease along a frictionless path.

I’m not saying that short guys aren’t found attractive. Sure we are. And I don’t have a height preference myself. I like guys of almost any height.

What I’m talking about is something other than sexual attraction. What I’m talking about is power. Or rather, the appearance of power.

It’s not like I can do anything about being 5’6″, though, so it’s best just to deal with it and move on.

Here’s an update on this.

I wrote him later that morning. I reminded him who I was, and I included a very slightly modified version of the story as I wrote it here. And I told him that I wanted him to know how much that night meant to me.

The wonders of e-mail: not 25 minutes later, he wrote me back. Our first interaction in almost nine years, and it took no time at all.

He wrote that he does remember me and my “sudden flight from those steps that evening.” He then gave me a short rundown of his life over the past nine years. He’s gone through lots of hard times; he was surprisingly open with me about it. In fact, I was startled to realize that although I’ve thought about that night so many times that he’s attained mythic status in my mind, he was only human. Vulnerable.

The best part was the ending:

Anyhow, your complimentary journal entry just lifted my spirits, and I thank you very much for that. Your entry will resonate sweetly in my head for the remainder of the day.

Please keep in touch. You seem to have a good heart and mind.

Say something good to someone today.

Words I Never Want to Hear Gay Men Use Again, Part I

fabulous

Function: adjective

Etymology: Middle English, from Latin fabulosus, from fabula

Date: 15th century

1 a : resembling or suggesting a fable : of an incredible, astonishing, or exaggerated nature (fabulous wealth) b : WONDERFUL, MARVELOUS (had a fabulous time)

2 : told in or based on fable

synonym see FICTITIOUS

– fab·u·lous·ly adverb

– fab·u·lous·ness noun

(via Merriam-Webster Online)

It makes me think of glitter and sequins. Call me uptight, but enough already.