Being Short Ain’t So Bad

At 5’6” tall, I used to be pretty self-conscious about my height. After all, who wants to pick the shortest guy to be on their team in high school? While later I had a successful career in public relations back in NYC, it’s a statistical fact that tall men, 5”10, 6 foot, six foot one, tend to go farther than shorter guys. And in my own experience, my CEO’s were always the tall ones, while their second in command who did all the real work was more a guy like me. My sister and brother-in-law are both “little people,” and when my nephew, who carried the family trait, married a girl taller than he was, I was the one to exclaim at their wedding, “Finally some tall genes in this family!”

But there are advantages in being shorter when it comes to dodging people at airports or getting around bubble butt steroid boys in the bar. And as I’ve grown older, I also realize that if you’re short and keep your shit together – exercise, watch your diet, don’t smoke, drink or do drugs – you look a lot younger a lot longer than the average guy.

Plus I’ve noticed that the super tall guys – guys 6’5, 6’6 – who I’ve encountered in my life don’t necessarily have a picnic. My financial planner who at 6’ 5 goes by the moniker, Big Ed, has chronic back problems because almost everyone he deals with is half a foot shorter or more than he. Or the 6’ 6 flight attendant who I fist fuck into delirium whenever he’s in town who confessed that when he was younger he was refused jobs by the airlines because of his height. That changed when the planes got bigger and the cabins higher.

And, after all, just like guys who are super handsome, it’s not just being tall but how you use these attributes to your advantage to open doors. But in the end you still have to prove yourself. How many times I’ve seen super good lookers working behind the counter at Starbucks who thought their looks alone were enough; or super tall guys I’ve fucked who were as passive as novice nuns. Hell, if I were a six footer, everyone would know I was in the room the moment I walked through the door. That’s why I’m a firm believer that shorter guys tend to be more aggressive and more driven because they know they have to be to get noticed.

I was in the 20 items or less aisle at Wal-Mart up in PA, anxious to get to the gym and wired by the supplement I had just taken so I could max my work-out. An older but not frail by any means guy was in front of me with what looked like a crowded basket, and as he began to place the items on the counter – I don’t know what possessed me – I started counting them!

“You sure you got only 20 items?” I retorted.

As you can imagine we got into a bit of a tiff and he threw his can of Pringles on top of the nearby soda machine – his twenty-first item – and yelled back, “OK, happy now, shortie?”(He was about 5’9,” no Goliath but, yea, taller than me.)

To which I replied without hesitation and to the giggles of the women behind me in line, “Yea, but I’m big where it counts.”

Case closed.

2 thoughts on “Being Short Ain’t So Bad

  1. Shane

    Why the constant obsession with sex? I subscribed to this blog months ago thinking – stupidly – that maybe, hopefully, I’d finally found another like-minded masculine gay man who didn’t allow his sexuality to define him and who maybe – just maybe – was more interested in writing positive, forward-thinking articles about the ups and downs of what it’s like to NOT be a gay cliche.

    Instead all you ever write about is yourself and your cock and how great and hot you THINK you are in your own little fucked up narcissistic faggot world, just like every other faggot out there. Nothing but shallow, self-centered, self-serving all-about-me charades.

    Did it ever once occur to you to at least TRY to be a role model for younger, or less experienced gay men who actually ARE trying to navigate their way through a lonely, shallow, sex-obsessed, disease-ridden world, trying to find companionship, purpose and something that maybe looks a little bit like hope? Of course not. All faggots want is cock. Forget companionship. Love is always over in the morning, right? No need for names, they won’t be remembered anyway.

    I’m 39 now, and I hope and fucking pray I don’t ever become you or anything even remotely resembling you. You are not special. You are not unique. All you are is a shallow, self-absorbed, over the hill muscle queen that spends 90% of his pathetic existence admiring his own cock and flabby excuse for a body, chasing other self-absorbed faggots trying to avoid the encroaching grave, refusing to let the orgy end. If there were a god, you would have been taken out by the gay cancer years ago, instead of being allowed to continue gallivanting like you do, infecting others with your drivel. At least I can thank you for providing a look into the life of someone I hope to never be. If I ever do, if I could look into a crystal ball and see my future, to see that staring back at me I’d just put a bullet in my head right now.

    There is nothing straight about you. As fucked up as straight people are, at least they’re more capable of maintaining a real, committed relationship, where love exists, where they look out for each other. If I could be straight so-fucking-help-me-god I would be. Instead I’ve been cursed with shit like you at every turn.

    1. I could tell you to just unsubscribe but that would be flippant.

      I am all you say and more but unlike some guys my age, str8 and gay, who partied the last thirty years away with nothing to show for it, I worked a high stress 60 hour a week executive job and now that I’m semi-retired in sunny Florida it’s the beach, gym and yes, some sex. I’ve always lived in or near an urban gay ghetto so I guess it wears off. Or you get the fuck as far away from it as you can.

      I never put myself up as a role model, hell, that’s the last thing I want to be, only that I would tell of my experiences as a gay man, good, bad and indifferent and hopefully some of you would learn from me and, yes, my mistakes. But I won’t defend or apologize for my actions or my narcissism. And if you think the world out there isn’t what I describe, then you’ve been living a very sheltered life for which I sincerely envy you. As for the constant obsession with sex, I’ve also written plenty about relationships, the subculture, politics, gay and otherwise, and the gay psyche but, hell, sex titillates my readers so … A Dan Savage or Dr. Phil I’m not.

      Can one lead an idyllic happy, decent, monogamous life as a gay man with another happy, decent gay man? Sure.

      Now go find him.

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