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Several friends have remarked to me that “I love a man you can climb.” I understand this sentiment—the allure of mountains, a difficult but not unsatisfying ascent, the sensation of being enveloped or dwarfed, Kant’s notion of sublimity, in which we are unable to grasp the magnitude thereof. It’s also the delight in the slight ache in your calves as you stand on tip toes for a kiss. 

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At 5’7”, I am neither a short nor tall woman, but I have always found, in spite of the hype, that tall men are not the accomplishment their vault culturally conveys. Give me a man under six feet any time, thanks. 

 

Kissing them is asking for neck pain. And back pain. And leg pain. Be it something as benign as a peck before work or as confusing as group sex, it is always made worse by one partner having a substantially above-average height. After several boyfriends above six feet, my main takeaways were a krick in my neck, a crushed nose from their chest pounding it during missionary, and a single, shared personality that as far as I can tell is composed of the phrase “I am dimensionally large.” 

 

Dating men significantly taller than you always includes a lot of being looked down on, which always starts off figuratively and indulgently: “baby,” “bunny,” “doll,”: all diminutives that seem very sweet, but can become an attitude. 

 

More importantly, because of this cultural predilection, men of height often feel less compunction to develop personalities to match their size. “I’m 6’3” if that matters” is not a conversational gambit. Nor is “I can touch the net.” 

 

So, there’s always sex, right? Except their arms and legs are considerably longer than yours, as is their torso. Where does what go when? How the fuck do I hoist myself up to waist level on this Orc? Where does my face go when he’s on top? How do I reach him if I’m on top? What position allows us to kiss? There’s an answer to that one: the one with no clitoral contact. Yay. 

 

For some years, I have exclusively been with men below 6’, and markedly prefer men of roughly my height, give or take a few inches. Do shorter men have their problems? Yes, and most of those are created by this inexplicable preference for height. However, the men below 6’ I’ve dated tend not to use objecthood or infancy as praise, they don’t purposefully loom over you during an argument in order to silently physically intimidate you into acquiescence, I don’t have to call a chiropractor after a make-out session, and you can at least occasionally lock eyes while fucking. Plus, I come.

 

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