I can't escape the idea that love is a futile endeavour for me. Any arguments otherwise would be appreciated.

Throwaway for obvious reasons.

I am short, around 5'4. I am bald. I have a receded jaw and objectively ugly facial features. I have a bad spinal condition that leaves my body deformed, and I used to be very obese, and the loose skin from it means that even when almost underweight, I still looked fat. I suffer from a skin condition, including one my genitals that leaves disoclouring rashes. I am neurodivergent to a fairly large degree and as a result of all the above have literally zero dating or any romantic experience of any kind. Not even a hand hold. I turn 30 next month.

Doing the math, each of those things reduces the number of women who could find me tolerable. Only around a third of women in surveys say a man shorter than 5'6 is acceptable. ​This is a fact. Don't gaslight me otherwise. Line that up with all my other physical and mental barriers, and the percentage becomes vanishingly small.

And all this before trying to run the gauntlet of personal compatibility. There is no point, in the confines of a human lifespan, for me to try to ever meet someone.

I do not see any way around this line of thinking. It is informed by my 3 decades of lived experience. And holds to results in social and psychological research. As well as basic mathematics. ​Does anyone have a way out of this thinking that isn't just platitudes? Looking for the opposite of validation or reassurance. I want to be wrong. But can't see how.​​