I know the common wisdom is women wear high heels to attract men but my boyfriends have never liked me wearing them. I’m a moderately tall woman with unapologetic posture—none of that stooping or pigeon-toeing you find in many ladies of a certain height. Chalk it up to my stint as a yogi, as well as the fact that I am the shortest woman in my family. I am still taller than my dad; in the Rosman clan, a phallus doesn’t necessarily grant you physical dominance.
Maybe it was a desire to get as far as possible from Dad that led me to dating improbably tall men when I was younger. Six foot two, six foot four —one boyfriend (a German, no less) was six foot six. But I also think many women are wired for tall men, as if their height genetically signals good bones, good brains, good odds. Not to mention that it’s hard to resist a fellow who can swing you over his shoulders.
In my early 30s I began a serious relationship with a man poised to become a huge success. This man was not only relatively short (only a few inches taller than me) but physically unprepossessing. I ended our relationship for a reason I still do not regret despite the legendary Internet company he launched soon after our breakup. I appreciated his mind, work ethic, and self-confidence, but couldn’t bear the prospect of a life in which his body was the only to which I had access. As he himself barely acknowledged the body in question, it would have been a patently unfair arrangement. Continue Reading →
