It’s time. I’ve been playing the field and dabbling with celibacy for three years now. I want a committed, loving partnership. I want a hairlationship.
What did you think I was talking about?! Hair, people. The centerpiece of every woman’s physical existence. Particularly once you’re done dating for love, your relationship with your hairdresser is the most drama-filled (and arguably, important) one there is. For five years I had a great hairdresser. The first three years were a nonstop honeymoon. I felt like I really grew with her, and she got me to try all sorts of new things. Then the relationship waned. We got stuck in a rut. Well, a bob, really. When I had Sally, things took a turn for the worse. I couldn’t keep up the cross-bay relationship; she kept highlighting, and highlighting, and highlighting. We had to end it. Breaking up with her was ten times more anxiety producing than any boyfriend I ditched.
Since then, I’ve played the “I don’t have time for a commitment” hand. I had a string of hair booty calls with a woman who barely spoke English, but you can’t have true love when you can’t fully communicate. I cut myself some bangs and trim them on my own, an act of denial that I need anyone. I even–and I’m quite ashamed of this so don’t tell anyone–went to Supercuts. I felt dirty when I walked out of that place, and not the least bit satisfied.
Suffice it to say, I haven’t felt whole since I broke up with my last hairdresser. It’s not that I want her back. I just crave that connection; that person who can look at your face and say “I know what we need to do.” I want to know they’ll be there in six to eight weeks, every six to eight weeks. I’m tired of looking like a rabid lion. And I need highlights something fierce.
It’ll be hard to get back into the dating game again. It’s fraught with layers and disappointment. Plus, I have baggage now that I didn’t have before: scheduling issues, lack of any discernable style, grey hairs. An online hairlationship service would make it easier–eHairmony, anyone? Anyway, I’m going to plunge back in. I’ll just keep reminding myself of the fabulous feeling of someone confidently snipping inches of hair off your head while they ramble on about the latest atrocity their sister’s boyfriend committed while I half listen. I think I’m still worth that kind of quality hair person. I will love again. Wish me luck.