To be short and unloved.

To be rejected by a woman, deeply wounds a man's pride. The line you hear "rejected by a
woman is normal, you get used to it" is crap. It does not matter to the man that he
probably is very unqualified. Infact, the act of rejection of a man by a woman, sometimes reduces the art of wooing a woman, to a science. Science is a logical, methodical and strict discipline that has no space for emotion or feeling. Things that go to show character like smiling, warmth, courtesy are reduced to scripts that execute automatically when a woman who raises certain flags is sighted. At one point, a man will find at least one woman who is agreeable. Constant rejection though, reduces men to wrecks. I digress.

I cannot pretend to completely understand why humans are so obsessed with beauty and appeal to the opposite sex. There are things in life that are much more important, for instance God (not that I obey or even listen to Him), good health, peace of mind, happiness. Unfortunately, this is a phenomenon that is here to stay. Therefore, if there are people who feel shortchanged in this order of things, it is short men. Really short men.

I have one such friend. What he lacks in height he makes for in other talents, like bravery (in terms of approaching women) that borders on the insane. So this guy wants a really hot chic. Tall (that means taller than me). The probability of him getting her is just as good as finding one million shillings on Kimathi street. The guy simply refuses to give up. His subtle hints are ignored. His direct requests for a date are politely but firmly turned down. She will not give him a chance.

One approach fails so another must be employed. This is where I get called in. I am reluctant, but a morbid curiosity overcomes me and I allow myself to be pulled into this mess. I have a cordial, fuzzy relationship with said hot chic. This is because I can be quite handy when some small personal assignment must be done, for instance, writing a small visual basic program for an IT course project, and whoever is asking is a beautiful woman. Obviously, after completing such odious tasks, the lady cannot refuse my request for a drink, mainly because another assignment might arise in the future and my excellent services required again, and secondly, I am a timid go-placidly-amid-the-noise-and-haste kind of guy. So, we go for a drink and the stage is set......
So what do I tell the lady? Subterfuge. The "Pretender" drill comes into play. I tell her that I am very interested in her very beautiful lady supervisor and I want to enlist her help! Of course she can't believe it (precisely because I am hardly qualified) but I pull such a serious face that she is totally surprised by the import of it. Naturally, the conversation becomes so lively that it does not seem odd when my friend "happens" by chance to enter the place accompanied by another woman, notice me and get very thrilled. Through an imperceptible nod I acknowledge to my friend: I brought her here. Ball in your court. (My presence will buy him at least an hour with the lady, something he had failed to achieve by himself. In return, there will be many beers to buy. I don't come cheap).

He rubs his hands apprehensively in readiness for battle. I immediately engage the other chic in conversation for about a minute then take a break to the loo. This gives my guy the opportunity to break the ice. Nature is very accomodating, like I said earlier. It just happens that my short friend is very funny and in short order he has everybody laughing. The chic cannot contain herself and she is slapping him wickedly on the back. Everything is easy now. This is the
all-important break that was needed. The lady must establish that she is dealing with nice guys here. The guy must maintain a prolonged conversation with her, after which my presence and mediation will not be required.

With a short nod he indicates to me that he is ready to dip into very deep waters and therefore I should get the other chic, and myself, out of the way. I politely request the lady to indulge me in one of the more cumbersome apsects of a date which is called dancing. Of course my dancing partner is in the loop and we would stay on our feet for quite a long time and only return briefly for punctuation effect.

We were never very far. From time to time I would turn to see how Danny DeVito was
faring. There was no laughter now. The mood was sombre. The chic must have figured I had
set her up.

After a moment, the chic held the guy's cheek, looked at him with utmost pity, and mumbled something. The guy's face fell.
That very act, if not coming from one's mother, sister or genuine friend, is one of the most demeaning thing that can be done to a man by a woman he desires romantically.

In effect, it is a statement that said: You are not going anywhere with me, tiny man.

She got on her feet a short while after. She mumbled a curt "I have to go" to me on her
way out.

I advised my friend to stop hurting himself.

The chic later asked me if I had set her up. I told her that I hadn't, but since he happened by, and I knew he was so interested in her, I decided to move away. It was the truth, only that it was not the whole truth.

Her supervisor looks at me in a manner that suggests...why don't you try me and see if you are going to get anywhere at all.

What a complicated life.