The BIG Reveal

I've gotta make this fast because Boston is in the room. So I'm in Vegas. I finally had the opportunity to put a face and body to the voice on the phone. Let's just say that the events over the last 24 hours have led to a chilling realization: I'm shallow. A couple of years ago I was in a similar situation when a blind date flew to New York from Columbus for the big reveal. When we finally came face to face, I was dismayed to see that he looked like Shrek. That sounds awful, but his oafish mannerisms coupled with the way he carried himself only added to my assessment. And he kept saying things that left the door wide open for me to tell him how I felt, "Wow. You look better than your pictures." Umm, you look just like you did in the movie. But I resisted out of consideration for his feelings. He was relentless. "So what do you THINK?!" he finally demanded. I told him that there was a spark that we lacked and I needed in order to move forward. His response was to call me "vapid, vacuous, and vain." He may have used other entries from the "V" section of Webster's but I forget. Consequently, I am highly skeptical of making a connection over the phone and having it pan out in person. This skepticism has proven almost prophetic. Granted, there are those who may be apt to call it self-fulfilling prophecy. But, in my defense, I have to say that slurping soup straight from your over sized soup bowl and then dunking your sandwich in your date's soup is grounds for dismissal.

That was then. This is now. Yesterday, I was a stress grenade. I arrived in Las Vegas, went to lunch with a friend and his girlfriend and played with my food while they ate. "What's wrong?" I had no appetite, my stomach in knots. "What if he's a petite man?" I asked my friend who himself is 5'5". "Is the height of a guy to a woman what big boobs are to men?" Is it? I would venture to say yes but only if men disqualify women based on their chest size which I haven't heard. Plus, there's a remedy for flat-chested women. I saw an episode on Nip/Tuck about how leg-extension surgery is painful and delivers minimal results. I decided to get a massage to alleviate some of the stress. It helped a little. Around 7:30 Boston finally got in Vegas from L.A. He knocked on my room door. I opened it. He was just as good-looking as his pictures, even sexy. There was a palpable attraction. OK. And, he was probably an inch or two taller than me. A wave of relief washed over me. OK, I can deal with this.

We went out for dinner and drinks and it was fun. But today, I was having serious doubts about this. He's almost my height. Or at least that's what it feels like. But Katie Holmes is cool with Tom Cruise, although I'm sure him showering her with money and jewels combined with the fact that he's Hollywood royalty makes looking down at him easier. Then there's Janet Jackson who seems to have found unprecedented happiness with Jermaine Dupre who's 5'5". It was bothering me, tho, and because I have the emotional maturity of a five year old when it comes to concealing my true feelings, Boston knew something was up. "What's your problem?" he asked today at brunch at Commander's Palace- which is the most amazing brunch I've ever had in my life and that's saying a lot because brunch is my favorite meal of the week. I squirmed. "I'm having some issues with the whole height thing," I confessed. I know you think I'm an asshole but that's why I like Boston because I can be myself- the Love Pariah Unplugged, and he seems to appreciate it. He looked me straight in the eye, took a long sip of his Bloody Mary and replied, "That's your issue, not mine." So I'm trying to deal. But it was fun and maybe, if I'm not the Love Pariah, I'll come to grips with the height issue and realize that --- standby for cliche--- good things come in small packages.

SHIT. Boston just came over and I minimized this window only to end up on what I had just googled. "Jermaine Dupre- HEIGHT?" He asked. Yeah, I answered. "What are you doing?" he wanted to know. "I'm blogging," I answered matter-of-factly. He knows I have a blog but hasn't gone in search of it because, well, because he's smart. Anyway, he asked why I looked up height. What could I say? Now he's pissed. OK, time to turn on the charm or babble incessantly about something unrelated. I'll probably end up doing the latter. Shit.