Both of those, you could consider a “win” for me. Now I want to tell you the tragedy of:
Tall Woman and A Short Man.
I was doing my thing yet again with Online Dating. I matched up with a woman, whom I will call, California Girl. Now California Girl is blonde. I like blondes. She likes to ride motorcycles, specifically as a passenger (riding bitch) versus being the actually “rider” or driver. I like chicks who like to “ride bitch.” And hey, not for nothing, (to quote Vince from Masculine Geek) she’s cute. I would definitely bang. Besides the pictures which showed me that she was fuckable, I went through her profile and that’s how I found out about her passion for riding bitch and a bunch of other stuff that is irrelevant to today’s post.
She lives within about a 15 mile radius from me which is good. I’m lazy and I don’t want to drive from hell to breakfast to get laid or have any sort of relationship. She’s definitely of the age of consent, so I don’t need to worry about going to jail, and honestly I don’t remember if she has kids or not, and that’s an irrelevant point too. I did notice that she is also 5 foot 8 inches in height. Which is about how tall my ex-wife was. No matter to me, I don’t care.
So we get to texting and talking and here’s the important screen shots:
Oh noes! She doesn’t go for shorter dudes! What to do?
What to do indeed? What do you guys think I said to her? Did I just leave her “on read?” Did I block her? Did I call her a stupid bitch and say something like she was a “height enabler” or some other equally stupid shit?
No, I didn’t do any of those things. I treated her like a human being.
To which she came back with this:
And like that, it was over. No harm, no foul, no big deal.
Everybody has their “thing.” California Girl’s “thing” happened to be height. She wants a man taller than her. Nothing wrong with that. I personally prefer women shorter than me, but it’s not a deal breaker for me.
I could have let this bother me, but I didn’t. Here’s why:
At the time of writing those texts to California Girl and also at the time that I’m writing this “field report” I’m currently seeing two other women. My belly dancer and Red and Black. Both of them are taller than me. About 5’7 each. And I would climb both of them all day long and twice on Sunday. Neither one of them care that I’m shorter than them. It’s not an issue for me, and it’s not an issue for them.
Your height, or lack of it, or whatever other insecurity you have, is your issue. And when you make something an issue, it will become an issue for her.
This “rejection” is fairly common to me. If it’s not my height, it’s my age. If it’s not my age, it’s that I’m bald. If it’s not my baldness, it’s something else. The point is, I get rejected all the fucking time. It’s par for the course.
I got blown out the other day because I mentioned something along the lines of “swatting her on the ass.” Apparently that went over like a fart in church. Apparently she wasn’t ready for me to start talking about smacking her on the ass. Oh well, her loss. My ass swatting skills can only be rivaled by Vince and maybe BullRush. Rejection comes with the territory.
I don’t want to leave you on a “downer,” so here’s a little fun one that may or may not go anywhere:
I’m going to call this woman, “Meow meow.” The reason for this is because I was scrolling through the dating app, saw her pics, thought she was cute, saw that she was at least of the age of consent, saw that she lived within my driving radius, and her profile headline said something along the lines of, “Nobody Reads These, Do They?” And then when I went into her profile, one of the last things she said was, “Come on meow.” That’s how I got “Meow meow” for her.
I sent her a random message that said, “Nah, nobody reads these things. Meow.” And let it go. Maybe she would respond, most likely not. Either way, I didn’t care.
Oh! What is this? A bite? And so I responded back to her as you can see.
And here is where it gets really interesting:
So for the guys who say they fuck, but don’t actually fuck, and worry about “Do you give your number to her? Or do you ask for her number?” How about you be interesting enough that she gives you her number unsolicited?
So now I have begun texting “Meow meow,” and we’ll see what happens. Perhaps I’ll be writing another field report about how it went nowhere. Then again, I may be writing about Miss Meow Meow as another woman in the rotation.
Like I firmly believe for myself:
If I can get her off the couch, out the door, and in front of me, her ass is mine.