At 5’1”, I’m short even amongst short men. In middle school, male classmates bullied me about my height, picked me last for sports, and on a few occasions even tried to pick fights. To cope, I developed a thick skin for insults while honing my own ability to pinpoint other kids’ insecurities. I also learned to take a punch so I could throw one back.
By high school, everyone had matured. With the exception of good-natured ribbing from my friends, short jokes were a relic of the past. But with maturity came a new problem: girls.
Everybody knows women don’t like short men. They want a guy who’s at least 6 inches taller than them. They want a guy who won’t make them feel big in heels. They want a guy who’s tall, dark, and handsome.
Except that’s all a load of shit. “Women don’t like short men” is a sorry excuse used by insecure men who would rather blame women and genetics for their problems than figure out how to make themselves desirable.
Like me, for example. I felt incredibly self-conscious about my height for a long time. My resentment wasn’t focused specifically on women — but it was turned outwards. My learned defense mechanism of targeting other people’s weak points, which had served me so well in elementary school, became a major liability by high school. Anytime I met a new person, my…
