Short stuff

I'll admit, I have a huge case of selective hearing. My mother was the first to diagnose me with a raging case of selective hearing during my childhood. Selective hearing is not a hearing impairment, it is moreso an impaired ability to engage actively in a conversation if that conversation does not suit one's interest range. Outbreaks of selective hearing could crop up at any mention of cleaning and other fairly undesirable activities. I still have it today and it kind of sounds like this:

Other person: blah bleh WTF blah blah ehhh and then.... 

Me: omg

Other person: yeah no kidding...blah blah blah and I....

Me: ohh i see ( I see? aren't you supposed to be using your ears?)

Other person: Can you believe he did that, I mean what a fucker!

 (at this point i have no idea a) who Other Person is talking about or b) what Other person is talking about and c) I probably don't even care) 

Me: Seriously. 

(other person goes onto gripe. If i am on the phone, i am probably watching tv, doing my nails or on the computer. Or just playing with my hair because sometimes that is more interesting than talking to people. The rest of my responses to the conversation might include any of the following remarks: a) yeah i know b)oohhhhh  c) ughh  d)  haha but usually e) uh huh)

Now, for all of my friends reading this, I do not want you to think that on any given phone call with me i am not listening. this is not true, i am very good at actively listening, when i want to be and I usually am but sometimes, my focus gets the best of me. So, please, continue to call me and talk to me because i really do like having friends. 

The problem with selective hearing is that it can morph and grow into other diagnoses. Of these include: Selective Vision and Selective Logic. Now, I usually do not fall fodder to selective vision, which is a syndrome that can allow you to not notice things as simple as red lights and stop signs to slightly more complex things as a substandard late night hook up or, far worse, the fact that your boyfriend is making out with someone else in front of your face. I mean, i occasionally turn a blind eye to a too high for purchase price tag and decide it is in my budget and have been known to glide a few stop signs, but  I certainly would not be so dumb as to waste time with someone who would much prefer to play tonsil hockey with someone else- gross. 

Selective logic, is however, a bit more complicated than the other two as it is completely based in mindset. While your ears and eyes play tricks on you, if you have selectively decided that only "a is possible, and b is not possible because it is simply not logical" you have an entirely new problem on your hands. Unfortunately, I have been a victim of selective logic when it comes to one particular theme: Short men. 

As a 5' 10" woman, ever since I have known what a boy was, I have had this mindset " because you are tall, short men will not be interested. Therefore, you really don't need to worry about them!  They will never come onto you and are bound to be your friend." So here, it was: i had this mindset that it wasn't logical for a short man (note: I do define short as 5'7" and below because I know the term is relevant and that men with heights ranging from 5'8" to 5'10" are in every contemporary sense of the word actually just "average") to, for any reason at all, be attracted to me. 

Well, after a few situations this summer, which i will not reveal to protect myself and those involved, I realized that maybe this was not actually true. While having a truly active conversation with Noreen, she shook her head and basically told me that I am a delusional. 

"You are 5'10" and blonde-- do you really think they are not interested? Do you really think short men don't give models a 2nd look?" I really enjoy the way this comment was framed, because she essentially put me at par with supermodels (thanks, Noreen, for making me feel like Heidi Klum for a day).  With this comment and series of incidences on my mind, I realized there was no safe zone. I had to be just as careful with the ankle biter club as with Big and Tall. Everyone had a sniper rifle ready and loaded. Yikes!

With my new heightened awareness that anything was fair game, I became extra cautious with my actions, comments and casual flirtations with male friends of all shapes, sizes, and colors. You never know. The only thing that now provided balance was the fact that my gay male friends would always just be my friends; unfortunately, they were staked out coast to coast in LA and NYC, a little to far for instant comforting. 

And so, about two weeks after noreen's profound and prolific statement, I came face to face - er well, chest to face- with a man-boy we will call: The Freid. The Fried attended a happy hour as a friend of a mutual friend of my friend, J. By the time he graced us with his presence at the happy hour, J and i were already 1 Kirin/ 1 sake deep and the Fried, who had the swagger of Jay Z and confidence of Kanye, LIfted his Stunna shades and told us he had spent the day boozing poolside at the condo his 'rents kept in North Scottsdale. The Fried revealed, also, that he owned some nebulous sort of start up, was still in undergrad and really liked having relationships. I accrued all of this information from The Fried about twenty minutes into meeting him. He had a natural knack for oversharing and boastful nature. A total Boneparte replica. 

As the Fried launched into his passionate defense for why he loves jumping into relationships after meeting someone one time, I countered the Fried by saying that there is a lot to be said about independence. 

"why would you want to put all your eggs in one basket?" I shrugged. And for some reason, the Fried was hooked. He told me I was a really cool girl and somehow this hypothetical 3rd person he was describing while he talked about his dating tactics grew into 2nd person: you. Luckily, I was pretty buzzed and it seemed no one else at the table had heard him. Our happy hour crew paid the tab and headed to another bar because the Fried had a friend who would hook us up. While walking, the Fried made sure to walk in sync with me, moving his little legs as fast as possible. Amidst conversation, the Fried asked for my number: "Wanna go out sometime?" Everyone else turned and looked. Not wanting to embarass the Fried, as he was definitely a nice person, I gave him my number and uttered, "sure." J winked at me. It was happening. 

Once at the other bar, the Fried texted me under the table. Aggressive. The conversation had shifted to a discussion of a pending Incubus concert that J and ohters were considering attending. The Fried said he loved Incubus and wanted to join her group. Then he turned to me, "You want to go to Incubus?" I don't like Incubus; i mean, no offense, but I was raised on Ziggy Stardust, tempered with Chicago and a sprinkling of Zappa. Incubus is just kind of boring to me. I replied, " I don't like Incubus." The Fried smirked, "I didn't ask if you liked Incubus, I asked you if you wanted to go." I declined again, saying I had other plans. 

At this point, it wasn't even that the Fried was short that really bothered me, it was more so attitude. Even htough his pants were obviously shorter than mine, he clearly wore them pulled up way too high. I have zero tolerance that crap. J and N could see i was uncomfortable. We left shortly after as a group and ditched the Fried and co., to which he responded with an angry text, commenting on how rude we had been. 

A few weeks later in Vegas, I was at a pool party at a club called Tao. There, we befriended and joined the elite cabana of about  12 hairy little nuggety jews from Mexico. Not only were they quite hairy but they were incredibly horny. Horny little Gorillas. I still remained diplomatic and drank their vodka while shaking them off, one little anklebiter at a time. and Snow White thought 7 was a lot. 

Upon returning to Scottsdale I was bound to run into the Fried again as I always insist upon attending Jewish networking events with J. Really, i usually have myself to blame for these, er, run ins that I have. While at a pool bar at the Montelucia, J had just finished introducing me to her friends when she nudged me and said, "uh, guess who just walked in- your favorite." 

It was the Fried. All pompous and puffed out like the little cockerel that he truly is. We caught him glancing in our direction. Just then, one of J's friends swung around and introduced us to another group that had entered. While shaking hands with new acquaintances, the Fried came prancing over. Lil J's friend who had been the mover and shaker before looked at her and said, "Oh do you know, ___________   _____________?" The Fried promptly shook her hand, smiled, asked her how she had been. J was clearly laughing. J's friend assumed that, being a gentile and all, I did not know him. 

"And ____________, have you met MAG?"  the Fried looked at me like he had never seen me before, shook my hand, "Nice to meet you!" Now I bet you are hoping that I called him out? Of course I did:

"Um we have definitely met before." I said. J was no longer trying not to laugh. The Fried looked really uncomfortable and I could see his eyes darting around. Conversation desisted. 

It was then i realized, while polishing off the remains of my vodka soda, that my aversion to The Fried would have been the same had he been 6'4". He was twerp no matter his height. This was the same situation with Tao Beach. Those hairy beasts would have been just as annoying had they been giants, granted it might have been a bit more difficult to swat them off. I was simply zeroing in on their height while, in all reality, I have met far greater number of offensive tall men than short men. For instance, there is this vile security guard at the W hotel whom I offended on one occasion by querying about the hotel's bankruptcy. In retaliation, three months later at that, he threatened me with a regular old Fe Fi Fo rigamarol. There are, however, just so many gross large men like this  that i have lost track. So, in that, maybe my point is this: there is no need to rule out all of the nuggets because one might be solid gold. 

A week later J ran into the Fried again. He was still awkward.