The Times - UK (2021-12-18)

the times Saturday December 18 2021

Body + Soul 9

A

t 5ft 6in I’m about the same

height as many women. And

while I wouldn’t call myself

short per se, it is certainly the

case that I’ve been at parties where I’ve

been towered over by girls in heels.

I’m 29, and the good news is that, in

relationships, it’s never proved a

problem — though my longest-term

girlfriend once remarked that nights out

without me were great because it gave

her an opportunity to wear heels.

While I’d never describe myself

as tall, I feel my height is perfectly

adequate. Even if I do sometimes

have to tip-toe a little when

hugging people. It’s not something

I worry about too much when it

comes to dating. I do remember

nearly spitting a mouthful of wine

out when talking to a PR friend at

a dinner about a girl I said I fancied.

“She probably is a touch too tall

for me,” I said. The reply? “It

doesn’t matter when you’re lying

down.” I guess she is right.

My friends and I were recently

laughing about dating app profiles

and the recurring remarks. We

concluded that on female profiles

“someone to travel with”, “no

Tories” and “looking for a big

spoon” were up there as the

most common.

“What about people lying

about their height,” one of the

girls said. “You guys all do it.”

“No we don’t,” I said, opening

Bumble. Ben: 5ft 8in. Oh.

see where they measured up in group

photos. I turned up to many dates to find

I had been catfished or miscalculated.

I’m not saying that those men weren’t

nice, attractive blokes, but I don’t think

they fancied dating a Long Tall Sally

either. The shorter the man, the

shorter the date.

The crux of the issue for me, and for

the panel of women I consulted on my

WhatsApp groups, is how they want to

feel, physically, with their partners.

I take up so much space in the

world that it’s nice to feel petite in

one arena. Others like the feeling

of being engulfed in arms; others

just find height sexy, despite not

being very tall themselves.

The man I am engaged to is 6ft

3in. On our first date, I remember

looking up at him and thinking, “He

is so very tall” and feeling all gooey.

I am sure there are anthropological,

biological and, probably, patriarchal

issues to unpack in all that. But I am

happy to gloss over them and just say:

sometimes it’s nice not to be the tallest.

Especially on your wedding day — and,

indeed, in bed.

I

n news that wasn’t Covid this week

(you’re welcome), enter Zendaya

and Tom Holland: they

successfully captured the court

of public opinion with a

matter of inches — the two

extra ones that the former

has on the latter, to be exact.

That’s right. The lofty

Hollywood debate to be having

now is over these two stars’ height

difference. Zendaya, of Euphoria,

The Greatest Showman and being-

the-most-gorgeous-young-woman-

on-the-planet fame, is 5ft 10in. Tom

Holland, her co-star and boyfriend, is

5ft 8in. He is what the internet calls a

“short king”. Don’t ask.

Two inches might not seem like much

to write home about but the matter

became one for public consumption

when the pair found themselves

defending it on a radio show. Zendaya,

who said “this is normal too... I

honestly never thought of it as a thing”,

is not, according to Holland, “that much

taller”, and thinking their height

difference would be an issue for them

would be “a stupid assumption”. This

raised questions on Twitter about the

emphasis we put on height between

men and women and problematic

heteronormative dating standards.

Which is all well and good. But have

you ever been the tallest 13-year-old girl

at the school disco and had no one to

dance with while you towered over the

prepubescent boys? Because that will

give you a special kind of obsession

with finding a tall man. I would

know. That girl was me.

I’m 28 now and have been

5ft 11in for ever, something

that has only ever been

challenging in dating. It

started with those discos,

quietly hoping that any boy

who had suddenly “shot up”

might want to snog me (he didn’t)

and trying not to feel so very “big”

(I still did).

Then it grew into an obsession with

anyone on a first XV rugby team. I’m

not joking: they were the only flavour

of man that could make me feel small.

My only other two relationships

have been with rugby players, both

of them well over 6ft. This was the

start of my journey to finding my,

literally, Mr Big.

That always proved challenging on

Tinder in London, where men famously

lie about their height, in the same way

that they lie about the size of their

appendages and apparently also, most

curiously, their shoe size. My first

question in the chat box with matches

was always an inquiry into feet and

inches and I scanned photos furiously to

Size matters Are women

attracted to shorter men?

Actor Tom Holland (aka Spider-Man) and his girlfriend

Zendaya say much has been made of their height

difference. Our writers know how they feel

boys’ lives

no running water their parents were less

enamoured.

The couple’s third son, Luca — born

through IVF after pre-implantation

genetic diagnosis (PGD), a screening pro-

cess for those who have children with a

rare disease — was then two. The couple

say that when they were told about the

availability of PGD should they want to

have another child, they laughed in the

paediatrician’s face, saying: “We’ve got two

disabled kids, we are just going to give

them the best lives we can, that’s it.” But, as

Nick says, “things change”.

In Nick’s documentary there’s a painful

exchange between him and Theo. “I’m

running quite fast,” Theo says. “I think it’s

getting better.” His father is kind, but

truthful. He tells him people are born in

different ways and that he was born with

poorly muscles. “I didn’t want to be like

that,” Theo says. He wants to play football

with his friends. Nick replies: “Oh buddy,

I’m sorry.”

You adapt, Nick says. This is your child’s

reality and it’s not helpful to view it

through a lens of loss. “It becomes about

ensuring he’s got the devices he needs —

wheelchairs, hoists — to enhance his qual-

ity of life. The big thing with disability is

trying to help the disabled person be as in-

dependent as they want to be or can be.”

Yet too often, only function is consid-

ered. “You go to someone’s home and

they’ve got a disability, and it feels a bit like

a hospital. Why is that? Why can’t you

apply beautiful design to disabled living?”

The House for Theo and Oskar is exem-

plary, and it is not just the Taussigs who

will benefit from it. “The reality is, when

Theo and Oskar leave us, we probably

won’t want to live there any more,” Nick

says. “And that’s OK, because the house

is built for other families with disabled

children. And that’s the point — there’s a

legacy element to it.”

Theo and Oskar attend a superb special-

needs school where 20 per cent of pupils

have Duchenne (99.9 per cent of those

with DMD are boys). Luca attends the

local primary and Theo might go along for

the ride if he has a hospital appointment.

“Luca’s really proud of his brother in a

wheelchair,” Nick says. Meanwhile,

“you’ve got the majority of parents looking

at Klara with pity”. However, “children see

things differently”.

Although at first their house felt like a

luxury hotel, the beauty of it is not only its

aesthetic. “You were suddenly in a position

where they could move around the house

in their wheelchairs,” Nick says. “In most

houses you’ve got doorways that are too

narrow or floors that are uneven, and

suddenly we’re in a space built for them.

That freedom felt amazing. I think they felt

quite liberated.”

At the moment their home is full of light

and sparkle, and the boys are super-exc-

ited. “We’ve done all the decorations, the

tree, we’ve got Christmas songs playing

every morning — it’s like living in Asda.”

As a parent, Nick says, you seek to find an

environment that is best for your children.

“It’s like all of us. We’re all looking for a

place we can thrive in. That’s the journey

we went through with Theo and Oskar.”

To donate to Harrison’s Fund, a charity

created to fund research into

Duchenne muscular dystrophy, visit

harrisonsfund.com

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Ben Clatworthy

I’m 5ft 6... maybe a

bit taller on Bumble

Hannah Rogers

Being 5ft 11 has not

made dating easy

Hollywood couple Tom

Holland and Zendaya

ANDY MATTHEWS/TIGG + COLL ARCHITECTS

Hannah Rogers Ben Clatworthy