The story of a short boy…

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Happy Sunday.  Time for a fun story.  This one is “old school”, but fun no less….

Many years ago, there was a terrific coffee shop on the Upper West Side of NY that was lined with bookshelves.  Stored in these shelves were binders and binders of one page “profiles” of dating prospects, both male and female.  You see, this was during a time in history in which internet dating did not exist.  A “dater” like myself could simply go in for a cup of coffee, fill out a “profile paper”, and have the coffee shop staff place my paper into a binder for a boy to potentially pick me.  In addition, I had my opportunity to peruse the binders and “boy shop”.  There were no photos of “daters” offered, but loads of details on the person including their occupation, education, physical description and summary of what they were looking for.  A primitive, early day, (before on-line) profile.  Once you picked a boy you wanted to meet, you gave the “profile page” number to that staff person behind the coffee bar and they gave him a call.  If he came to the shop to read your “profile” and decided to meet you, the coffee shop staff placed the phone calls and set up the coffee meet up for you both.   I loved the idea! (of course).

So I got a call from a coffee shop staffer that someone had picked me.  I went down for my cup of coffee and to read about him.  He looked interesting.  A lawyer, well-educated, and well written.  I agreed to meet him.  What the heck?  The only thing I neglected to take note of when reading his “profile paper” was that he had left his height section blank…

I thought it would be fun to wear a long skirt with my most cool and stylish platform shoes.  As I walked into the shop to meet him, he was sitting on a high stool next to the coffee bar, with his feet dangling!  He donned a dapper suit, but I couldn’t help but notice it looked a bit too large for him.  (I later joked with a girlfriend that it looked as if he was wearing his father’s suit).  The most striking memory of the “meet up” was that he never stood up to shake my hand.

The second most striking memory was that he glared at my feet during most of our conversation.  He truly couldn’t take his eyes off my platforms which were easily transforming me from a 5 ft. 7 to a 5 ft. 11.  Poor boy!

We had a nice conversation.  He was simply very tiny compared to my build.  And when it was time for me to stand up to say goodbye, he called the waitress over and ordered a slice of cake.  I knew in that moment, his intelligence was superior to mine.  For that slice of cake placed down in front of him was his insurance guarantee that he would never need to stand up and present his very short self to me to say goodbye.  As I stood up to say goodbye, he had that slice of cake in front of him to ensure he could remain seated.   Certainly, a stand up boy…

OK, height is a deal breaker for me.  Call this one “superficial”… Heck, I’m entitled once in a while. Thanks for reading…

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