For, I'm not shitting you, 15 years I went to the same hairdresser. A wonderful guy; someone I truly liked. But, let's say two out of five times I came home from an appointment and spent the rest of the day or evening willing this new haircut to do something. Anything. Anything not strange or awkward. Ugh. The good to bad ratio was just enough weighted to the positive that I sat it out. For a very long time, as you now know.
In the spring of 2011, I finally decided it was time to break up. And while I planned to play the field for the foreseeable future, I ended up settling down with the first chick I met.
:::love:::
Our relationship was beautiful for nearly two years, until my beloved coiffeuse was unceremoniously released from her obligations at the salon where I visited her.
:::damn:::
Tonight, because she still is the best thing that ever happened to my hair follicles and all that emerges from them, I met her at her apartment. I squatted on a short stool in her kitchen while she conjured her spirits. I lied down on her kitchen counter and hung my head into her sink while she rinsed away the remainder of her elixir.
Ahhh. Magic, it is.
No comments:
Post a Comment