Hair on the fringes

My jet black hair introduced me to Kim. It was a chance, desperate meeting, but one that began a two-year relationship. I followed her everywhere until it became impossible to continue. Kim would become one in a series of relationships that started out promising but left me abandoned.

I met her on a Sunday afternoon. My "it costs a little more, but you're worth it" color job cost me a helluva lot more. My $10 bottle of Fonzie-black hair was appalling and it was unfeasible I would go to work on Monday looking like I did.

I drove to the mall and gingerly travailed the distance from the parking lot to the second level for the Regis Salon. All my hair was pushed up under a cap. I had called ahead so Kim was waiting for me. Two hours later and $150 poorer, Kim had faded my hair back to the chestnut brown that I had originally sought. Afterwards, I was smitten and devoted to Kim.

Three haircuts and two hair colors into our blossoming hair affair, Kim announced she was moving to Adel. No problem, I countered. I was willing to go to any lengths for my hair and driving 40 minutes one way, despite the dozens of hair salons within walking distance of where I lived would not to be an obstacle for us.

It was an edgy relationship. I was always willing to push the envelope, but she wanted me to open it--hairwise, that is. Fonzie black hair didn't suit me, but Kim believed Lucille Ball red would. I compromised with highlights.

I lavished Kim with tips and compliments. She cost a little more, but she was worth it. She brought personality to her styling skills. Each session was jazzed with stories of her escapades with her husband and brother and their love for all things that included alcohol.

Eventually, our relationship became too comfortable and I knew we had to spice it up. I brought my friend, Marty, with me. Our threesome helped rekindle a steady but predictable relationship. Our two hour gabfests helped all of us decompress from our stressful lives. Marty and I lived vicariously through Kim and her wild adventures.

Then one day it was over. I called to make an appointment and the receptionist informed me Kim no longer worked there.

All that investment of time and money into our relationship and she left town with nary a word to me. She had dropped hints in the previous session that her brother had moved to Florida and she wished she could go there, too. But I believed she would soften the blow by at least sending me an  "I'm moving" postcard.

I wish I could say Kim's middle of the night departure was the first and last one in my subsequent attempts to form a meaningful relationship  with my hair stylist. But not so. Others have left me, too. The most recent was Leslie who had moved to Hobbs from Arizona to be with her boyfriend. I knew I should have asked if they were engaged. My next to last appointment with her I took the risk and committed to my next cut five weeks later. I walked in and the receptionist said, "she doesn't work here anymore. She moved back to Arizona." 

My current stylist at Celebrity Status Salon and Day Spa is going to be a long-term relationship. I just know it. She's married with kids and just bought a new home. I think I may have found my match. She's a lot like Kim but stable. She opens the envelope for me and I don't even realize it. She hasn't pushed Lucille Ball-red on me but she did just recently cut a Michelle Obama bang--weeks beforoe the Inauguration. 

I'm so cutting edge.