u/honestbeas

So last week, just as an experiment, I opened an account on a few dating apps and listed my real height. Even though everything else about my profile was above average—income, status, etc.—what caught my eye was how even average-looking women have high standards (not that I’m against that). One woman was 4'4" and had in her bio that she wants a guy who's 6' to 6'3", regardless of how much he makes.

I thought, okay, let me change the demographics to regions where the average male height is 5'5" to 5'7". To my surprise, it was the same thing 😂. Out of 20 profiles, I found only one that was okay with 5'7" and above.

To conclude, I think this is a global epidemic.

Note: I’m not generalizing all women—maybe online dating is just different."

As the title says are you guys still insecure about your height or have you accepted and moved on?

For me I was insecure in my 19-20 but right now I just accepted my height as a fact that cannot be changed.
I hit the gym everyday I grow some muscles and I’m happy with my physique my confident got up.
As a test to myself I approached a tall woman like 5’9 to my surprise we actually dated :).
By the way I’m 5’7 .
I think height is matter but not for everyone.

For sometimes I thought I can’t go out without it even thought the discomfort.
But now finally I can walk without it, I think it’s not worth it for me at least. I’m 5,7 male.

What about you guys is it worth the pain for just like 1 inch taller?

About a year ago, I met a woman at my gym.

At first it was nothing.

A few glances here and there.

You know how it starts.

You notice someone.

Then you notice them noticing you.

Then suddenly you’re looking forward to seeing them again.

For days we exchanged glances. Nothing crazy, just enough to make me curious.

The problem was that I had very little experience with women, and I came from a conservative background where I wasn’t always sure how to interpret attention.

Eventually I decided to approach her.

I was terrified.

My heart was racing.

I rehearsed what I would say a hundred times.

But I did it.

To my surprise, she seemed happy I approached.

She smiled.

She asked questions back.

The conversation flowed naturally.

I walked away feeling amazing.

For the first time in a long time, I felt hope.

Over the following weeks we would talk occasionally at the gym.

Sometimes we’d laugh.

Sometimes we’d train near each other.

Sometimes we’d end up talking for much longer than I expected.

I remember leaving the gym smiling like an idiot.

Those small moments became the highlight of my week.

At some point I asked for her number.

She smiled and said:

“Next time.”

I’m a very direct and logical person.

I took that literally.

To me, “next time” meant exactly that.

Not maybe.

Not no.

Just later.

So my hope grew.

I thought things were moving forward.

We continued talking.

We laughed together.

We had what felt like genuine connection.

Then eventually I asked again.

This time she declined.

Politely.

No drama.

No cruelty.

No humiliation.

Just a rejection.

The problem wasn’t her answer.

The problem was what happened inside my head afterward.

Because instead of accepting it, I started trying to explain it.

Maybe she’s shy.

Maybe she’s scared.

Maybe she likes me but isn’t ready.

Maybe she needs more time.

Maybe.

That word became poison.

The rejection should have been the end of the story.

Instead it became the beginning of limerence.

For the next several months, I analyzed everything.

Every smile.

Every glance.

Every interaction.

Every coincidence.

If she was friendly, I saw hope.

If she wasn’t, I felt crushed.

My emotions became completely dependent on things that probably meant nothing.

I wasn’t living my life anymore.

I was living inside my head.

I built entire futures with someone I barely knew.

I imagined dates.

Relationships.

Road trips.

Conversations.

A future together.

The crazy thing is that none of it was real.

The feelings were real.

The future wasn’t.

I started noticing how much power this situation had over me.

A good interaction could make my week.

A neutral interaction could ruin my day.

Sometimes I felt excited.

Sometimes I felt devastated.

Sometimes I felt embarrassed.

Sometimes I felt ashamed.

I remember looking in the mirror and wondering what was wrong with me.

Why couldn’t I move on?

Why was I obsessing over someone who had already given me an answer?

I became scared of my own mind.

Not because I wanted to do anything harmful.

But because I could see how irrational I was becoming.

I knew I wasn’t thinking clearly anymore.

Eventually I realized something important.

The problem wasn’t her.

The problem wasn’t even the rejection.

The problem was what she represented.

She represented being chosen.

Being loved.

Being accepted.

Being enough.

I had attached years of unmet emotional needs to one person.

No human being could carry that weight.

Once I understood that, I stopped focusing on her and started focusing on myself.

That was the real beginning of recovery.

I journaled.

I read about limerence.

Attachment styles.

Childhood wounds.

People pleasing.

Validation seeking.

I started seeing patterns that existed long before I met her.

For the first time, I stopped asking:

“How do I get her?”

And started asking:

“Why am I suffering this much?”

The answers weren’t comfortable.

I realized how much I had abandoned myself over the years.

I realized how much of my self-worth came from external validation.

I realized how afraid I was of rejection.

I realized how often I sacrificed myself trying to be liked.

So I started rebuilding.

Not for her.

For me.

I improved my health.

I got serious about training.

I took care of myself.

I developed better habits.

I learned boundaries.

I learned to say no.

I learned that being kind doesn’t mean being weak.

I learned that self-respect matters more than approval.

Most importantly, I learned that someone else’s decision doesn’t determine my value.

The strangest moment happened months later.

I saw her again.

The woman who once occupied my thoughts every day.

The woman I believed was special.

The woman I thought I could never get over.

And nothing happened.

No excitement.

No fantasy.

No hope.

No anger.

No sadness.

Just neutrality.

I remember thinking:

“Did I really spend almost a year suffering over this?”

For the first time, I could see her clearly.

Not as a dream.

Not as a soulmate.

Not as my future.

Just as a normal person.

A good person.

A person who simply wasn’t interested.

That’s all.

No villain.

No victim.

Just two people who weren’t a match.

Today I don’t hate her.

I don’t blame her.

In a strange way, I’m grateful.

Because the experience forced me to face myself.

It exposed my insecurities.

My loneliness.

My wounds.

My need for validation.

And by facing those things, I became stronger.

The biggest lesson I learned is this:

When you’re in limerence, you think the goal is to get the person.

When you heal, you realize the goal was never the person.

The goal was becoming the kind of person who no longer needs someone else to feel complete.

If you’re going through limerence right now, I know how hopeless it feels.

I know how real it feels.

I know how impossible it seems to move on.

I felt all of that.

But I promise you this:

One day you’ll stop looking for signs.

One day you’ll stop replaying conversations.

One day you’ll stop building imaginary futures.

And one day you’ll realize the person who once controlled your emotions has become just another memory.

That’s when you know you’re free.

Salam alikom brothers and sisters,

I’m male 30 years old looking for halal marriage here in Netherlands.
Any advice or guidance?

Thanks

I know it’s not a lot of money but is there legit ways to grow small amount of money in Netherlands legally?

I assume it’s just coincidence but I noticed this many times I’m not the type of person who makes small talks with girls in the gym out of respect. I heard some dudes saying it’s sign of interest but I don’t believe that as if someone interested they will make it easy for you to have conversation, that’s my believe.
I would like women perspective on this is it true ?

About a year ago, I met a woman at my gym.

At first it was nothing.

A few glances here and there.

You know how it starts.

You notice someone.

Then you notice them noticing you.

Then suddenly you’re looking forward to seeing them again.

For days we exchanged glances. Nothing crazy, just enough to make me curious.

The problem was that I had very little experience with women, and I came from a conservative background where I wasn’t always sure how to interpret attention.

Eventually I decided to approach her.

I was terrified.

My heart was racing.

I rehearsed what I would say a hundred times.

But I did it.

To my surprise, she seemed happy I approached.

She smiled.

She asked questions back.

The conversation flowed naturally.

I walked away feeling amazing.

For the first time in a long time, I felt hope.

Over the following weeks we would talk occasionally at the gym.

Sometimes we’d laugh.

Sometimes we’d train near each other.

Sometimes we’d end up talking for much longer than I expected.

I remember leaving the gym smiling like an idiot.

Those small moments became the highlight of my week.

At some point I asked for her number.

She smiled and said:

“Next time.”

I’m a very direct and logical person.

I took that literally.

To me, “next time” meant exactly that.

Not maybe.

Not no.

Just later.

So my hope grew.

I thought things were moving forward.

We continued talking.

We laughed together.

We had what felt like genuine connection.

Then eventually I asked again.

This time she declined.

Politely.

No drama.

No cruelty.

No humiliation.

Just a rejection.

The problem wasn’t her answer.

The problem was what happened inside my head afterward.

Because instead of accepting it, I started trying to explain it.

Maybe she’s shy.

Maybe she’s scared.

Maybe she likes me but isn’t ready.

Maybe she needs more time.

Maybe.

That word became poison.

The rejection should have been the end of the story.

Instead it became the beginning of limerence.

For the next several months, I analyzed everything.

Every smile.

Every glance.

Every interaction.

Every coincidence.

If she was friendly, I saw hope.

If she wasn’t, I felt crushed.

My emotions became completely dependent on things that probably meant nothing.

I wasn’t living my life anymore.

I was living inside my head.

I built entire futures with someone I barely knew.

I imagined dates.

Relationships.

Road trips.

Conversations.

A future together.

The crazy thing is that none of it was real.

The feelings were real.

The future wasn’t.

I started noticing how much power this situation had over me.

A good interaction could make my week.

A neutral interaction could ruin my day.

Sometimes I felt excited.

Sometimes I felt devastated.

Sometimes I felt embarrassed.

Sometimes I felt ashamed.

I remember looking in the mirror and wondering what was wrong with me.

Why couldn’t I move on?

Why was I obsessing over someone who had already given me an answer?

I became scared of my own mind.

Not because I wanted to do anything harmful.

But because I could see how irrational I was becoming.

I knew I wasn’t thinking clearly anymore.

Eventually I realized something important.

The problem wasn’t her.

The problem wasn’t even the rejection.

The problem was what she represented.

She represented being chosen.

Being loved.

Being accepted.

Being enough.

I had attached years of unmet emotional needs to one person.

No human being could carry that weight.

Once I understood that, I stopped focusing on her and started focusing on myself.

That was the real beginning of recovery.

I journaled.

I read about limerence.

Attachment styles.

Childhood wounds.

People pleasing.

Validation seeking.

I started seeing patterns that existed long before I met her.

For the first time, I stopped asking:

“How do I get her?”

And started asking:

“Why am I suffering this much?”

The answers weren’t comfortable.

I realized how much I had abandoned myself over the years.

I realized how much of my self-worth came from external validation.

I realized how afraid I was of rejection.

I realized how often I sacrificed myself trying to be liked.

So I started rebuilding.

Not for her.

For me.

I improved my health.

I got serious about training.

I took care of myself.

I developed better habits.

I learned boundaries.

I learned to say no.

I learned that being kind doesn’t mean being weak.

I learned that self-respect matters more than approval.

Most importantly, I learned that someone else’s decision doesn’t determine my value.

The strangest moment happened months later.

I saw her again.

The woman who once occupied my thoughts every day.

The woman I believed was special.

The woman I thought I could never get over.

And nothing happened.

No excitement.

No fantasy.

No hope.

No anger.

No sadness.

Just neutrality.

I remember thinking:

“Did I really spend almost a year suffering over this?”

For the first time, I could see her clearly.

Not as a dream.

Not as a soulmate.

Not as my future.

Just as a normal person.

A good person.

A person who simply wasn’t interested.

That’s all.

No villain.

No victim.

Just two people who weren’t a match.

Today I don’t hate her.

I don’t blame her.

In a strange way, I’m grateful.

Because the experience forced me to face myself.

It exposed my insecurities.

My loneliness.

My wounds.

My need for validation.

And by facing those things, I became stronger.

The biggest lesson I learned is this:

When you’re in limerence, you think the goal is to get the person.

When you heal, you realize the goal was never the person.

The goal was becoming the kind of person who no longer needs someone else to feel complete.

If you’re going through limerence right now, I know how hopeless it feels.

I know how real it feels.

I know how impossible it seems to move on.

I felt all of that.

But I promise you this:

One day you’ll stop looking for signs.

One day you’ll stop replaying conversations.

One day you’ll stop building imaginary futures.

And one day you’ll realize the person who once controlled your emotions has become just another memory.

That’s when you know you’re free.