A wordy statement about the opposite sex ... and a little bit of self-reflection

A post about one of my favourite topics… boys. Or, more accurately, how my lifelong struggle to understand them continues to this day.

In junior high, I played basketball with the guys at recess because it was way more fun than standing around with the girls, who were very cliquey, and to me seemed boring. However, I couldn’t understand why those same cliquey girls were the ones who had boyfriends (whom I played basketball with). Was I not fun enough to ask out? I thought, ‘What is better than having a girlfriend that will play basketball with you?’

Well, what I didn't realize at the time was that the guys didn’t need a girl to play basketball with – that’s what the other guys were for. They needed a girl to make out with.

A girl who wears sneakers, jeans and a (very flat) T-shirt every day isn’t exactly “make-out” material. Why did it take me so long to realise that a guy is not attracted to a mirror image of himself?

I soon started hanging out with girls and they assisted my transformation from a tomboy into a make-up and female-clothing-wearing girl. Eventually I ended up with a fantastic boyfriend – one who was supportive, sexy, had a great sense of humour and accepted me for exactly who I was. Then I found out that he actually prefers dating (and sleeping with) other men. I can’t help but wonder what it was about me that made me attractive to a gay man.

Anyway, I digress. I will now tell you a story about what started this self-reflection train in the first place.

The weekend before last I was at the Lion’s Den, a local pub. I was hanging out with some friends and some friends of some friends. A guy introduced himself around the table, and because I can’t remember his name I will call him Matt. Matt was a clean-cut, decent looking, single guy around my age. He sat down beside me and started up a conversation.

For starters, he was drunk. Actually, he was drinking-out-of-a-champagne-bottle drunk. That was probably the catalyst for him telling me that he can speak five languages and he works at Syncrude but thinks so-and-so is an asshole, blah, blah, and blah. Matt was a pretty annoying guy. Nevertheless, he was more entertaining than my alternate company, so I kept talking to him.

Somehow I brought up the subject of how tall I was. He had not seen me standing up, so he asked, “How tall are you?” I told him six foot two and he absolutely did not believe me, so he started hounding me to “stand up! Stand up!” So I did.

Gobsmacked is the appropriate word to describe his reaction. “Holy shit!” was his response. The top of Matt’s head was level with my chin. We sat back down and Matt turned his back to me… and didn’t speak to me for the rest of his life. Just like that.

Then I was gobsmacked. I wasn’t interested in Matt (or the spit he was showering me with), but I had no idea my height could potentially be such a huge barrier for me getting a date. I knew height distribution that favoured me was a big problem for a lot of guys, but it didn’t hit home until that moment.

I am a very tall person. I outweigh quite a bit of the available male population. I now realize my height is a restriction not only in buying a car, camping in a sleeping bag or buying pants, but in getting dates. “Duh!” you all say in unison. Well, thanks for telling me.

Which brings me back to understanding what guys look for in a girl. The best I can do is be myself and one day someone will come along who likes me exactly the way I am, even if I am a bit of a tomboy and have a big nose.

“I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me.”