Long Legs, Short Conversations: Dating in Orange County

Apparently, I’m Too Tall for This Dating Pool

Sneakers and Stilettos

Dating in Orange County as a tall woman feels like trying to find jeans that fit: everything looks promising online, the measurements are suspicious, and somehow I’m the one expected to make adjustments.

The scenery is beautiful. The sunsets are romantic. There are restaurants practically designed for falling in love.

All we need now is someone who can make a reservation and communicate through an entire calendar week.

And apparently, in my case, stand next to me without turning it into a conversation.

Because being a tall woman comes with commentary.

“Wow, you’re tall.”

Yes. I was there when it happened.

“Do you wear heels?”

Sometimes. Is this a date or a building inspection?

“You must only date really tall guys.”

Actually, I’d love to date someone whose confidence doesn’t depend on what shoes I wore to dinner.

But thank you for opening negotiations before we’ve ordered water.

There is something exhausting about having a perfectly ordinary physical characteristic treated like a logistical complication. I’m tall. I’m not arriving with a grand piano that needs to be carried upstairs.

We can still get coffee.

The chairs will work.

Everybody’s going to be okay.

Then there’s dating-app height, which appears to operate under its own system of measurement.

A man lists six feet, and I arrive wondering whether he measured himself in hiking boots, included his hair, or simply wrote down a goal.

Listen, I’m not standing at the restaurant entrance with a tape measure. But if we’re beginning our potential love story with creative accounting, I have questions.

Your height might not have been an issue.

The fictional biography is doing some damage.

And that’s the part that gets lost whenever tall women talk about dating. People assume we’re all sitting around rejecting perfectly lovely men because they don’t meet the minimum clearance requirements.

Sometimes the woman is comfortable.

Sometimes she wore the shoes she liked, showed up excited, and never gave the height difference another thought.

Then he mentions it.

And mentions it again.

And suddenly she’s spending her evening reassuring a grown man that standing next to her is not an emergency.

I don’t want to spend a date trying to make someone comfortable with the space I occupy. I already put effort into getting ready, finding parking, and deciding whether “casual drinks” meant cute casual or Orange County casual, which could apparently involve either flip-flops or a handbag worth a semester of college.

I’m tired before the appetizers.

Dating here can feel like everybody is shopping with seventeen tabs open. There might be a connection, but what if there’s a better connection five miles away? Someone younger, someone closer, someone with a boat, someone whose schedule magically revolves around yours?

We have turned meeting a person into browsing inventory.

And as a tall woman, you can start to feel like the item everyone admires but isn’t sure will fit in their living room.

“You’re gorgeous.”

“You have such a presence.”

“You must intimidate men.”

That last one always gets me.

I am trying to have dinner. What exactly is the threat?

Will I ask a follow-up question? Reach the top shelf? Expect you to mean the things you say?

I would love for “intimidating” to stop being the automatic explanation for a woman who is visible, direct, and comfortable having an opinion.

Because underneath the humor, it does get tiring.

There are moments when you notice yourself calculating. Should I wear the flats? Should I sit down before he gets there? Should I make a joke first so he doesn’t feel awkward?

And then you catch yourself.

Why am I managing a feeling he hasn’t even had yet?

Why am I preparing to apologize with my posture?

That’s how quietly it happens. Nobody has to tell you to shrink. A few comments, a few uncomfortable reactions, and suddenly you’re doing the work for them.

I don’t want that for myself.

I want to get dressed for a date and think about whether I like my outfit. I want to be excited about the person I’m meeting. I want to wonder whether we’ll laugh at the same ridiculous things, whether he’s kind to the server, whether conversation will feel easy.

I would like my shoes to remain a supporting character.

And honestly, there are men who make that possible. Men who don’t turn a height difference into a personality test. Men who can admire a tall woman without immediately comparing themselves to her.

That ease is attractive.

So is a clear invitation.

“Dinner Friday? I’ll book somewhere.”

Beautiful. Elegant. Almost scandalous in an era of “we should hang sometime.”

Because height is only one piece of the struggle. Even if the physical chemistry is there, you still have to get through the endless messaging, the vague availability, and the man who lives one town away but talks about seeing you like he needs a travel visa.

Sir, there is a road.

I have seen it.

At this point in my life, I’m much more interested in how someone shows up than how impressive he looks on paper. Does he follow through? Is he curious about me? Can he be honest when the answer is uncomfortable? Does spending time with him feel good, or am I leaving every interaction with homework?

I don’t need every date to become a relationship.

I do need to stop feeling like basic communication is an exclusive amenity.

Being tall makes me noticeable. It doesn’t make me immune to disappointment. Confidence doesn’t mean I never get lonely, and making jokes about dating doesn’t mean I don’t want something sincere.

I do.

I want the affection, the familiar face across the table, the person who remembers the little things. I want to be able to soften around someone without first proving that I’m not “too much.”

And I’d like to experience all of that while standing up straight.

So I’m keeping the height. I’m keeping my sense of humor. And when I feel like wearing the heels, I’m keeping those, too.

Orange County has plenty of beautiful places for a first date.

Now I just need someone who can pick one without asking how tall I’ll be when I get there.