'I HAVE TO STAND ON TIPTOES TO KISS HIM'

Jennifer Bruton, 38, lives with her husband James, 42, and their two children in Surrey

Looking up at the tall, handsome man dressed in a suit, I smiled as he shook my hand and introduced himself as James, then 22. It was October 2005, my first day working at a high-street bank, and I was being introduced, one by one, to my new colleagues.

Despite my nerves, I couldn’t help but notice how attractive James was and, after six months of getting to know each other during lunch breaks and at works drinks, we became a couple. Only, not a day went by when someone wouldn’t comment on our height difference. James towered over my 4ft 11in frame at 6ft, and I’d have to stand on tiptoes to kiss him and stretch my arms to wrap them around his shoulders. And he’d hunch over to put his arms around me, always doing his best to stoop down a bit for photos, even though he looked silly.

We saw the funny side though – him laughing at me when my feet wouldn’t touch the floor when I sat at my desk, and me giggling at him when he’d have to crouch down to fit through low door frames.

I was used to being short – I come from a long line of short women and I never let it dent my confidence. It wouldn’t have mattered to me what height James was, but I did love the fact he was tall. He made me feel protected, could pick me up easily, and, as silly as it sounds, he really did come in handy for reaching things from high shelves and kitchen cupboards.

Neck ache