Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Why Must Boys Play With Their Hair?

I'll admit it, I like it now, but two weeks ago it was terrorfying. Not to sound like too much of a girl, but it actually made me cry. It wasn't those child-like hiccup sobs that cut off oxygen, but I cried nonetheless. Damn him for not warning me!

I should have known, I suppose, that something was up. My boy told me he was going to shave and cut his hair (which I assumed meant trim). I occupied myself by playing with flickr, but noticed that it was taking a long, long, loooooong time. Much more so than usual. Then I heard him, all sweet-voiced and innocent-like, behind me, "Honey?" I turned and quickly regretted it, "Oh God!" I spun around in the chair and buried my face in my hands to hide the horror that was now his head.

"Hee hee hee! Woooo hah!"
"Oh God! God, oh God! Why God?"
"Honey, come on, now."
"Why, why, why would you do that? God!"
"Oh honey. I just got tired of it."
"But why?! What...why...but...there's nothing..."
"I kinda just wanted to see how you'd react. Yeah. Hee heeeeeeee!" (mischievous grin)
"Oh....God." (sad and whimpering)

I recovered enough to wander into the scene of the crime. His bathroom sink was covered with a towel that held all his hair in several thick tufts. My face fell. The evidence was real and could not be denied. My boy was bald. Symptomatic of my photographic addiction, I grabbed the camera from my purse and captured it as a way to try to adjust to the newness. It didn't work. I got sadder and sadder. After a few minutes I couldn't take looking at it anymore. I sat too close to the computer screen. I closed my eyes. I cried.

"One day you're not going to have any hair left and you'll be sorry you did this!"
"Oh, honey."

I screamed at him. He answered by drawing out the 'e' in honey to soothe me. This did not help.

"It's only hair. It'll grow back. In a couple months it'll be right back where it was."

I miss his chicken hair. Standing straight up on his cute little lightbulb shaped head. I could run my fingers through it. Shuffle it around. Muss it and mold it into odd formations. The stubble feels sorta like velvet, but that's a small consolation.

Prepare me next time!

3 comments:

lauren said...

I know the feeling- I went to meet up with my boyfriend at the movie theater and he took off his hoodie to reveal his head was shaven super short with hair in the middle left like a landing strip and then he bleached the landing strip a few weeks later.

I understand- at least your boyfriend didn't bleach it as well and guy's hair does grow back fast. In no time, you'll be running your fingers through his hair again.

I wonder though- if once guys are in a relationship if this is their version of "getting comfortable"? Like how some girls gain weight or whatever- guys need to mess with their hair. Hmmm.

miss tracey nolan said...

He cut his own hair?!?!?!

citygirl said...

Tracey: Yup! He's daring, that boy o' mine. Dammit...

Lauren: Wow! A short blond mohawk. I think that would have given me a stroke. I guess it's their way of testing us. You know, "Will she REALLY love me no matter what?" I'd much rather have a long conversation on the subject, wouldn't you?

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