My wife’s hair has gotten progressively shorter over the years. When I first met her it was down to the small of her back. Her hair reminded me of every John Hughes movie I’d ever seen and so I trusted it to keep me safe forever. Then came the Wonder Woman years where it dropped down over the shoulders suggesting a slightly tougher, but still very feminine look. Now, three hair styles later, we’ve reached the “I’m in a gay relationship with my wife” hair length. For the record I still play the female role in this relationship.
I always know when a hair chop is coming. The signs are obvious. There are the frowns and groans my wife makes as she stares at herself in the mirror. There are the complaints about how she doesn’t know what to do with her hair anymore as though it were a misbehaving child that won’t respond to the threat of a beating. I’ll start to hear about how long it takes her to dry her hair, which is not so much a complaint as it is a warning. It’s a warning not to venture into the shower with her. Doing so puts me at risk of coming face to face with my wife in a shower cap. And not just any shower cap, but a hospital blue, nursing home, hand-me-down-from-Grandma. Once you’ve seen it, you can’t un-remember it. It’s truly a great accessory to any Halloween costume.
It’s a goddam relief when she finally proposes another visit to the chop shop. Hell, at my age I’m ready for it. I’m a veteran, an old pro. I know what’s coming and I know what to say when it comes.
“Honey, I’m thinking of cutting my hair shorter.”
“Really, what if it doesn’t look good?”
“Sweetheart, you’re beautiful. And no haircut’s going to change that.”
It’s pretty solid if I do say so myself. And I’ll be honest, pretty accurate as well.
The only real problem I have with the change in hair length is that my wife gets me involved. Apparently this decision affects me so by that logic I’m forced to help her choose the proper hair style. And oh do I love looking at hair styles! Forget the Hawks game, this is where the action is. If I’m really lucky we’ll move on to discussing new paint colors for the bathroom! In case you are wondering, there are way more than 50 shades of grey!!
This latest time my wife even sought to get me involved in the decision as to which hairdresser she should use. “This one is better, but way more expensive than the other one. What do you think?”
I buckled under the pressure. “What do I think!? I think if you get a haircut that you hate, you’ll hate it even more if you paid a lot for it!”
Remarkably my wife sees the logic in this and books at the cheaper place. Not sure how that happened, but, as my wife’s hair length begins to catch up to mine, so does her thinking.
Short story cut shorter, I was holding my son in my arms when my wife returned from the hairdresser. No, I did not drop him. I smiled and said, “I love it!” My son had more of a “where do I know this person from?” look. A period of silence ensued then my wife smiled and started to tickle him. This jarred his memory. As for my memory… it’s still scarred by the light blue shower cap.