The ‘size’ debate has never really been settled has it? From a woman’s point of view, I don’t think it’s as big a deal as what men perceive it to be.
Overall, the general consensus is that as long as it’s functioning; does not resemble a cocktail sausage (or the other end of the spectrum…the size of a small snake); is clean and groomed (boys, we don’t expect a sack wax… but a bit of a trim is always appreciated) – you’re doing ok.
However, it seems that since joining the London dating scene, I too have developed a bit of ‘size’ requirement – extending well beyond the size of someone’s, err, feet. (While we’re on the topic, as you may know, this is not always an accurate guide).
For me, it’s not about the size of their arms or their height (but then again, as I’m five foot….I do think I need to give any potential future offspring a chance, so this does come into play a little). But when it comes down it, it’s all about the size of their bed. I need a man in possession of an ‘adult’ bed; I’m talking, at minimum, a double.
The reason for my prejudice is because my little room near Notting Hill doesn’t allow for more than a king single bed (having chosen location over practicability). I fully accept this is a double standard on my behalf, however dating anyone in a similar circumstance (or even worse…. with a single!!) begs the question… how is this going to work, logistically??
I recently encountered this issue with a struggling scriptwriter I went on a couple of dates with. He was really funny (big tick in the box), and also very creative and passionate about his writing.
However, as he was so devoted to his writing, he only worked part-time which meant he rented a room smaller than mine and slept in a ‘non-adult’ bed…. the dreaded single! This only came to light after date number two, when we were talking about our dreams to one day live in normal accommodation.
Upon hearing our mutual issue, the same thought spread across our faces… ‘shit!’
As it is, dating in London can be a precarious matter; shared houses, thin walls and cramped living arrangements can make a night of romance an embarrassing affair for all the next morning. Just watch the grin on the faces of any lingering flatmates on route to the nearest exit – there’s a reason it’s called the Walk of Shame.
So it begs the question, am I shallow enough to let the size of a bed stand in the way of true love? Of course not – and in the instance of the scriptwriter, we were searching for different things beyond bigger beds. But it did make me think fussy Goldilocks was onto something during her search for the perfect bed, and that sometimes size really does matter!