It’s really hard for me to stay in a long term, committed relationship…..with a hairstylist.
You know how it is, the same-old-thing gets boring after a while. The first few visits are something special, but after that, it’s like beep-beep-boop, done… and here is the same exact boring hair you came in with. The spark gets lost. And sometimes when I find my voice enough to specifically ask for something I really want (noticeable highlights please), I instead get what SHE thinks I meant when I said that (subtle highlights….again)
Listen. I know it’s fake. You know it’s fake. No one believes these stripes I want in my hair are natural. So just let them look a little bolder please, it’s really ok.
So I was recently searching again, for someone who would listen to me. Someone who would make me look, or at least feel beautiful for a while… and hoping for someone…….special. At a new place, because I can’t ever just pick a different stylist at the same salon. That would feel too much like cheating. I’m running out of salons.
I walked in, looking around, noticing those certain stylists who LOOK like they do the most amazing, cutting edge things to peoples hair. Always dressed in black, funky hair, effortlessly cool. Those people never end up being my stylist. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, it’s just an observation.
I tend to call at the last minute, days before I have a hair meltdown, begging for the soonest appointment with the first person available.
My new stylist comes to get me, I notice her hair first (of course)… cute, blonde, nice highlights….
This is the part I hate or love….. talking to this person. I will come back-at least for a while-if I love my hair despite the lack of connection. I’ll endure the uninterested questions “so, do you have plans this weekend?” in the bored voice that tells me you really don’t care to know what my plans are. It’s clear sometimes that you have to say something because silence is awkward, even though we have absolutely nothing in common.
But sometimes, sometimes it’s like running through a field of flowers, arms outstretched as your perfect match comes running toward you and you both beam with your perfect, corny smiles. The ONE. The one who not only does a fantastic job on your highlights, but who really seems to “get” you. Your soul sister/stylist. How well did we connect? Well, she told me she was pregnant, and her parents don’t even know yet. (I’m totally special). We talked about deep things like spirituality, what makes our lives meaningful, and how thick my hair is. (Pretty thick).
I walked out of there with a smile on my face, feeling like a million bucks, desperately trying to commit her name to memory and hoping she doesn’t decide to quit doing hair to stay home with the baby when the time comes.
Oh…. how I love the beginning of the relationship. The honeymoon phase, when there is potential for everything to be amazing, especially my hair. Inevitably followed by the tedium of routine, and the restlessness of wanting something…..more exciting, different….. BETTER. Then, the break up. An abrupt ending, never an explanation. And always followed by the search, never-ending, for another ONE.
For now, here’s hoping the grass stays greener, and the highlights stay spectacular.