I check a website called FailBook, on occasion, so I can groan at the stupidity of others, along with the thinly veiled spoof-stupidity people try to pass off as real stupidity.
One of the posts, this week, went something like this:
"Is it any wonder that women can't park when men are constantly lying to them about what 9 inches is?"
Haha. Genital jokes.
I think the writer has a point, though she doesn't realize its import: men have no idea what their true height is.
Take, for example, Date #1 (of a total of three dates, this week, and all within three days): his profile states clearly that he is 5'7" tall.
I am 5'7" tall, according to my internist. And I wore flats, so he wouldn't feel intimidated by my statuesqueness.
So why was I staring at his forehead when we spoke while standing?
Because, his ruler/measuring tape is different from mine. Obviously.
And so, just as pink/red/navy is the new black, so 5'5" is the new 5'7".
And 6'0" is the new 5'10", as my date today demonstrated (he's a repeat, but I hadn't noted the height difference on our first date. He was taller than I am: I wasn't going to complain).
So I eagerly await the unveiling of Wednesday's supposedly 6'0" tall fellow.
Also, you may be wondering: how did I go from two dates, yesterday, to three dates (as of approximately 1:15 a.m.) today?
I am a date-scheduling ninja.
My lunch date, today, tried to call me while I was on my date, last night. When my date visited the men's room, I texted in return, saying I was somewhere too loud to talk - out with friends, you know - and it was good to hear from him (and the restaurant was kind of loud). Yes, of course, I would love do lunch, but preferably Tuesday (I omitted the bit about not feeling up to two dates in one day). Before my (Monday night) date returned to the table, we'd fixed up the time and place, and established that I would drive myself as I would be out running errands during the morning.
If that's not ninja, I don't know what is.