My Wife told me the other day she wouldn’t have dated me had I been a few inches shorter and that kind of shook me

Here’s something that shook me recently: I asked my wife if she would have dated me if I were 3 inches shorter than I am now. She straight up said no. That honestly rocked me to my core. I’m well below the average height line already (I won’t give specifics because the number is irrelevant, and I refuse to participate in the “who has it worse” Olympics). But this hit me hard. I realized that I wouldn’t have the best part of my life in my arms right now if I’d been just a few inches shorter.

I’m not going to circle back to that conversation with my wife, and frankly, It’s nothing I’m losing sleep over because I’m in a very loving and happy marriage. It shook me because it made me realize how much harder shorter guys have it, especially those shorter than me – and I’m a pretty fucking short guy.

I grew up in the 90s so height wasn’t even a factor in my formative years. Sure, I got teased in school like everyone else did for something, but it wasn’t this all-consuming identity crisis. Being shorter than average was just one characteristic among many, not a death sentence for my dating life or social standing.

What’s happened since then is something else entirely. Social media and dating apps have completely transformed how we view ourselves and others. Height has gone from a physical characteristic to a primary filter, especially for men. We went from a world where you met people organically and had a chance to show your personality, to one where you can be dismissed with a single swipe for not meeting an arbitrary height requirement.

The difference between my experience and what young guys are facing today isn’t that I found some magical confidence formula. It’s timing. I developed my sense of self before the world decided that being under 6′ was some kind of character flaw. My identity was already formed when the “height requirement” became a common dating profile feature.

Let’s be real, when was the last time you read an article titled “New York Woman Found Dead In Her Room: Suicide Note Cites Being 6’2 As Driving Factor”? Never. And yet we’re seeing the opposite happening with increasing frequency – young men who’ve been made to feel worthless because of their height, sometimes with tragic consequences.

I have a coworker who’s 5’5. He’s close to my age, also grew up in the 90s, and is dating a woman who’s around 5’9″. Both our necks are aching looking up at her. But this guy is ridiculously confident – he doesn’t give a fuck about anything. He’s just himself: does his job well, loves Marvel, video games, Star Wars, all the sci-fi franchises, and is a fun guy to be around.

Maybe it’s because we’re both in the Navy, which comes with a naturally barren field of fucks to give? Or maybe it’s because we formed our identities before height became this huge deal. I was 25 when I joined the Navy, recovering from a drug addiction, so dating was the last thing on my mind. By the time I met my wife, I was in my 30s and more obsessed with my dog than anything else. It proves the whole idea that love shows up when you’re not looking.

But how do we get today’s young men to where my coworker and I are? Why is something I haven’t put much thought into suddenly on my mind a lot? I don’t have that answer. It’s not just about “being confident” when the entire dating market has fundamentally changed. I don’t have advice on how to “overcome” height discrimination in today’s world. I can’t tell you how to make dating apps value personality over height.

All I can say is that I was fortunate enough to grow up in a time when my worth wasn’t determined by centimeters, and that made all the difference. If I were coming of age today instead of 25 years ago, I might be struggling with the exact same issues.

This isn’t just about “short guys needing more confidence.” It’s about acknowledging that the game has changed, and not necessarily for the better. Thank you for listening, I just really wanted to write this out. Twice.