A New Relationship

I've been a bit on edge today. After thinking about cutting my hair for quite some time now, I'm finally gonna do it. Made the appointment this morning.

Since I tend to act impulsively at times, I have to slow myself down and make sure I am acting responsibly. Except just as I wrote that, I had to laugh because that is so not true. But I'd like it to be.

In the eighth grade, I spent the weekend at a friend's house. Bored within two hours, we decided to pierce our ear. Why not, sounds good...

Until my dad picked my up Sunday afternoon and we headed home. Not wanting to show it to him, but knowing I couldn't hide it, I let him discover it for himself. In retrospect, I probably should have shown him before we got on the road. He looked over to ask me a question and just about swerved into the Burger Barn, so shocked was he. I don't think he even finished the question. As soon as we got home, he ran inside to show my mother what her little boy foolishly had done to his body. She took a look, said it was no big deal, and it stayed. Mom, one; Pops, zero.

In college, I worked full time at the mall toiling away at retail. I developed a cadre of friends that often hung out together outside of work. Well, right before Spring Break came, I developed flu like symptoms. The girl I was dating had plans to take a road trip to California with her roommate. I could take a quiet week at home and regain strength. Or so I planned. The morning after classes let out, my co-worker Susan and her best friend Jenna dropped by. They were packed, on their way to Galveston for the weekend, and decided I had to go with them. There was no way I was leaving the bed, except to go to the hospital. Never being able to say no to pretty women, I got in the car along with my cough drops, TheraFlu, and a suitcase of Kleenexes. Great traveling partner, I am.

Once we were outside Galveston, I asked who wanted to get a tattoo. Thinking I was joking, both agreed and laughed at each other. Except I was dead serious. So, we drove into town and got tattoos. Guess who I told first? Mom two; Pops still zero, if you're scoring it at home.

So, I can't say I always act before thinking. Putting a hole in your head or placing permanent ink on your body doesn't need deliberation. Hair does.

But I'm on edge not about the cut itself, but rather the person who will be doing the cutting. Will she be talkative or will I just sit there in awkward silence, and most important, will I tip enough or will she laugh at the cheapskate whenever I walk out the door? I don't want to screw this up. This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

A relationship with your hair stylist is very personal, like finding a good priest. You tell them things you normally wouldn't tell somebody you just met for the first time. Brother in prison, father gambled the house away? Don't tell the neighbor of fifteen years, tell the person with scissors you met three minutes ago.

I've only been betrayed by a stylist once. When I first moved to Dallas, the girl I was dating found a new stylist, Janette, so I would go along for cuts every once in a while. After we broke up, custody of Janette wasn't discussed so I felt I could keep going to her for cuts. Well, a couple of months later, I arrived for my appointment and ran into ex's mother. I really liked her mother and felt a little bad I had to break up with her when I broke up with her daughter. Well, we spoke for a little bit but I still felt a bit uncomfortable. Since I felt I should have been told my appointment immediately followed my ex's mother, I passed it off as something that was made months in advance and couldn't be changed. Well, month later after that, I told Janette that Melissa and I got engaged. I thought that was something that should be held in confidence and not blabbed to the ex. Not so. A couple of days later, I got an e-mail from the ex wanting to know why I was getting married so soon after breaking up with her. That's the last I ever saw Janette.

Should have made a clean break. Lesson learned.