At 5 foot 11, I am taller than the majority of men in the UK, who stand at an average of 5’9. I have five sisters who are the same height as me, except one who is 5’8 – the tiddler of the family. Growing up, I towered over the boys. I have terrible posture from always slouching to the side, trying to make myself appear shorter.
Early on in my dating life, one of my sisters said to me that I mustn’t rule out short men. Not just because that would mean writing off well over half of the global male population, but because short men are great.
Forget the stuff about them being aggressive and overcompensating and consider, for a moment, this question. How often do you meet a tall, attractive man who is actually funny? Tall men undercompensate. They know that they can rest on their bland, lofty laurels, and women will still fancy them. There are exceptions, of course, but I’d wager that there is a negative correlation between men’s height and their sense of humour.
Short men get a rough ride in the common understanding. They’re seen as pugnacious and insecure, small fry with a chip on their shoulders. They got something of a PR boost with the popularisation of the phrase “short king” and its figureheads like Jeremy Allen White, but it’s still tough out there.
Short kings the world over despaired when Tinder followed in the footsteps of Bumble and Hinge recently to introduce a height filter, meaning women could sort the 6 foot-plus wheat from the vertically challenged chaff. Heights are already visible by default on Hinge, which leads to all sorts of jiggery pokery. The casual observer might wonder at the sheer volume of men who happen to be six foot on the dot. It’s become par for the course to round up to the nearest foot, or at least a few inches. One of my male friends identifies as 5 foot 10 in Nike Air Max.
Nowadays I am usually around the same height as the people I date
Nowadays I am usually around the same height as the people I date, or within a couple of inches either side.
It’s much more convenient. No standing on your tiptoes to kiss them or bending your arm up to hold their hand, and a nice view of their face. As I counted the hairs in the nostrils of a very tall man recently I realised what a rubbish view most women have. Far nicer to be at eye level with someone. Or even better, slightly above them, so that their eyes look large and endearing.
My sister (5’11) only dates men who are 5’8 or shorter
My best friend is going out with a 5 foot 5 man, who is a little shorter than her. “I think other people care more,” she says. For her, it’s mostly rosy: “We can share trousers which is ideal and we fit together perfectly. Our strides are pretty much the same so we can link arms and skip in perfect comfort”.
Her only qualm is that he can’t pick her up effortlessly. Previous attempts have seen him topple over like a skittle.
Meanwhile, my sister (5’11) only dates men who are 5’8 or shorter. Her ideal height is around 5’6. “I used to find it very awkward being tall and still do,” she says. “Having spent my childhood always feeling too big, tall and clumsy, being with a small man who makes you feel even bigger becomes almost like a kink and a release.”
“I think it’s probably Darwinism at work, I don’t want my kids to be huge like me and have size a million feet,” she adds.
Taller women dating shorter men requires confidence on both sides, and it’s no wonder that famous height difference couples seem like incredibly good value. White Lotus stars Leslie Bibb and Sam Rockwell, Zendaya and Tom Holland, and the perennially cited Sophie Dahl (6 foot) and her husband Jamie Cullum (5’4). “It makes you feel big and sexy while also not being threatening,” my sister explains.
So before you change your Tinder settings, spare a thought for the short kings. They may only be able to sweep you off your feet metaphorically, but isn’t that preferable? Besides, those 6 footers are probably lying about their height anyway.
Claudia Cockerell is a London Standard columnist
