It was true. At five foot ten, I was tall. In my four-inch heels, that put me at six foot two. But I didn’t think that was what bothered some guys. I had plentiful boobs, an ass, hips, and although I had a waist, it wasn’t super trim. Neither was my belly. Either guys loved my tall voluptuousness, or they labeled me fat. I hated that word. It made me physically flinch. But there were days, usually around my period, where I felt overweight and wondered how anyone could be attracted to me.

Most days I was content enough with myself, even had days where I felt sexy. However, maybe I’d feel confident every day if I were a few inches shorter and a dress size or two smaller. Who knew? Didn’t we all sometimes wish we were the opposite of what we were? I gave myself a break when I had those kinds of thoughts because on most days I liked myself, inside and out.

The trick was to guard against allowing other people to dictate how I felt about my physical appearance. However, I noticed a correlation between periods of high self-worth and low self-esteem and when I was online dating. Shallowness in men was a huge turnoff for me, yet that didn’t mean those who rejected me based on my appearance hadn’t had a subconscious effect on me.

AARON T

So you said you’re an editor. Where? What? Tell me more.

ME

I’m an editorial assistant at Reel Film, the film magazine.

AARON T

That’s cool. What does that mean exactly? Do you write reviews and stuff?

ME

No, I’m assistant to an editor. I started out in an administrative position but over the last few years I’ve helped my editor, editing the journalists’ articles.

ME

My editor is retiring, and his position is open. It’s likely I’ll get it.

AARON T

That’s awesome. Maybe I can take you out to celebrate?

ME

Maybe What’s your idea of celebrating?

AARON T

Whatever you want it to be. I aim to please

I sighed heavily, trying to alleviate the churning in my stomach. I’d been working at Reel Film for ten years, had been passed over many times for an editor’s job, but finally my long wait was over. I was excited about it, but I was also distracted by my interactions with Aaron. He’d stolen my focus and we hadn’t even met. There was something addictive about our conversations—they made me feel young in a way I hadn’t in a long time.

And now . . . now was he standing me up?

I looked at the very last snap sent last night.

ME

Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

I could see he’d opened it only a few hours ago.