Can short people date? Part 4
Reality TV shows us both the highs and lows of small person dating
I don’t mind short people not being cast as hunks in Hollywood. As I referenced in an earlier chapter, the plausibility gap shouldn’t be sacrificed just for the sake of our feelings if it serves to the the detriment of the work’s artistic quality.
But I’d rather we weren’t used as the punchline to a joke - more on the comedic aspects of shortness later - or, even worse, appearing just as a token effort at diversifying the cast pool.
Not so long ago, I tuned into some disaster flick or other which doesn’t deserve any attempt to remember it’s name. I had deliberately put it on as background noise, something I wasn’t invested in, so I could crack on with some life admin.
I was starting to zone out, when I distinctly remember a dwarf character popping up. I spent the next half an hour trying to fathom what purpose his appearance and diagnosable medical condition served.
My next example comes from the film Joker. Don’t misunderstand me here: the film itself is a cinematic masterpiece and utterly compelling. Joaquin Phoenix is an absolute delight, well worthy of his Best Actor Oscar. What’s not so delightful was a single oddly-placed scene which seemed a bit out of kilter with the rest of the production.
The Joker is in the dressing room of what we are to understand is an agency that hires out actors for odd jobs. Mr Joker has just returned from a gig twirling a “sale now on” sign outside a shop while dressed as a clown.
One of his colleagues turns to a midget who also seems to be on the payroll:
“Hey Gary. You know what I’ve always wondered?”
“No, Roger,” the midget replies.
“Do you people call it miniature golf, or is it just golf to you?”
A voice from somewhere else in the in the room chimes in:
“Punch him in the dick Gary”
If I was being charitable, I would say the bleak repartee adds to the impression that where Joker works isn’t a particularly nice place, filled with people who are not particularly nice either.
At least our midget character has a name. And a non-zero number of lines of dialogue.
Perhaps we could devise some form of the Bechdel test - the metric that judges whether women are genuinely represented in fiction by making sure there isn’t just one token, but multiple characters who actually discuss things other than men with each other and have proper identities - but for dwarfs and midget characters too: Is there a narrative purpose for including a short character, or are they just there to poke fun at them? Do they play a speaking role or are they just funny to look at? Are they just tacked on as an afterthought or are they actually a person we get to know?
I wasn’t purposefully seeking examples like these before writing this Substack. When I had the idea of talking in general terms about height and how it is viewed by modern society, I simply jotted down all the ones that happened to spring to mind that particular evening.
It’s a shame there were quite a few more, and quite a few that continued on our theme of romance for this chapter. I couldn’t even bring myself to mention a contestant of Love Island who, when asked what their type of man was, they replied: a “good” height. In their defence, they never actually specified what “good” was - maybe that’s actually 5’2’’.
Or take another reality TV show First Dates - which falls squarely in the guilty pleasure camp. If you’ve not seen it, a variety of singletons are set up on a succession of blind dates in the same restaurant, all under the eye of the infinitely suave maitre'd Fred. The results - which range from total car crash to adorable fuzziness - are then broadcast for the world to see.
On one particular episode, a gentleman of 5’4’’ came on to bemoan his lack of luck with the ladies. I’m no fan of this kind of causal narrative that shortness is the reason for singleness. But the feedback after the meal with his romantic companion on that episode intrigued me no end. The two daters are always placed together in a sort of diary room after the evening’s entertainment, and both asked at the same time whether or not they would like to see each other again.
On this occasion, the woman’s response was that she “instinctively” felt they were more like friends than lovers. Our 5’4’’ participant agreed with this assessment.
Anecdotally, I hear this feedback a lot when the subject of dating and the vertically challenged comes up. Yes, it does come from women who are set on taller partners. But I’ve also heard it from men too, who say they struggle to see women taller than themselves in a romantic light, so we can hardly judge anyone else for failing to see past feet and inches.
If I’m being brutally honest, I can often find that jump difficult myself, recognising a taller woman as attractive, funny, intelligent and charming, but somehow not finding myself drawn to them in that way, for no particular reason I can identify.
Maybe it is that Napoleon Complex coming back to bite us, that we would feel emasculated in a physical, intimate relationship with someone taller than us. Or perhaps it is because we fear the rejection that is statistically more likely to come from a taller partner. Who knows.
There’s probably some kind of biological reason men might struggle to overcome height triggers. Other than our interminably fragile egos of course. Subconsciously - and occasionally consciously - men can recognise that achievability is a factor in their romantic calculus. Our egos don’t appreciate us trying, but failing to secure a mate, and that’s more likely to happen if you are shorter than the person you are interested in.
Around the same time as my First Dates viewing, a movie called Tall Girl was released on Netflix, chronicling the romantic struggles of Jodi, a 6’1’’ teen attempting to navigate the fraught pathways of high school love. I’m sure women of that height could write very similar chapters on their romantic struggles too, which I’m sure would be more eye-opening than my own.
On the flip side of the coin, I have had several women tell me that we would be having a different conversation if I was taller. I used to feel aggrieved by the insinuation that the only reason they wouldn’t date me was because I was short. Now I find it mildly comical.
Reality TV is an odd vehicle to come riding to the rescue, but it has also illuminated occasions where couples have overcome a seemingly undefeatable height prejudice. I have to hand it to the producers of these shows; they do know how to build tension, and to voice what most polite people would keep to themselves about dating a small man.
On the Australian version of television show Married at First Sight - if you’ve not watched it, just imagine a blind date, but with a legally binding contract at the end - viewers get to know a handful of couples who had been thrown together by matchmakers, receiving zero information on each other beforehand.
One of these couples that caught my eye was Jules and Cameron. The ‘relationship experts’ had looked at their profiles, and decided that they would be a perfect match, so were betrothed, despite having never even heard of each other before.
As a bit of emotional foreplay before the big day, the crafty producers asked both parties, separately, what they were looking for in a partner. Jules says that she hopes he’s quite tall, the reason being she doesn’t want to be made to feel like she’s a large woman herself (she’s quite clearly not).
The film then cuts straight to Cameron talking all about how he hopes to find someone who doesn’t find his height an issue (he’s not particularly short).
I was sweating when Jules walked down the aisle. She was about to lay eyes on Cameron for the first time. If I was on the edge of my seat, I can’t imagine how he must have been feeling. Cameras were about to capture this person who was supposed to be his dream partner trying to conceal a crestfallen face. Then his brave but hollow smile as he realised she was expecting something more. Then broadcast it to the entire world.
That would have made for a dramatic programme that tugged on the heartstrings and prejudices of the audiences in equal measure. Surely that was what the producers had intended all along?
In fact, Jules and Cameron adored each other straight away, even joking about how much of a non-issue the height was just hours after their stage-managed meet cute.
Initially, I was willing to put in enough effort in to see whether the wedding day would go well given the set-up, but not enough to sift through future episodes to follow their journey in the name of ‘research’.
In my first draft, I was going to ask you fine readers to please report back to me on how their relationship adventures were going. But - and don’t tell my wife this - I actually ended up enjoying joining her on the sofa for multiple episodes as the season unfolded. I am pleased to say Jules and Cameron were still together after the experiment, and have had an adorable child in the home they now share.
Next week, I’ll dig into some studies on why that might be.