Time to part ways

After a year and a half of beautiful bliss, I think it's time to break up with my hair stylist. He holds a very special place in my heart, since he was the very first person to drastically cut my long, stringy locks into a sassy short style. But somewhere along the way, I think he got complacent. Took me for granted. Stopped putting in so much effort. We've just grown apart.

That, plus I've met someone new.

My new potential love is my wedding hairstylist, who may or may not be the actual stylist on my wedding day (long story, but I might have to end up with his colleague who he SWEARS is awesome). Anyway, I went yesterday for my hair trial, which ended up being more of a meet-and-greet where we play around with looks and he tell me what will and will not work with my hair.

But that's not all he told me....

"So," he says, "why aren't you having your normal stylist do your hair for the wedding?"

"Oh," I say, my voice changing from chipper to slightly somber, "he actually doesn't do updos or anything."

"Really? That's so strange. I can tell you right now, I'd never want to give my clients a reason to go elsewhere!"

I study the stylist's face and silently tell him to get out of my head. He continues with a loaded question.

"How do you like your cut?"

Aaaand that's all I needed to open up about my now-unsatisfying relationship.

"Well, I don't love it like I used to, that's for sure," I blurt out. "I mean, it's not growing out well, I don't like the shape in the front, it's hard to style and chunky in the back. I just feel like it's sloppy."

Not one to mince words, my new potential love says, "Definitely."

Ouch.

He continues, "It's too thin on the sides here, see?" You bet I do.

"And the back, look at this," he says, swirling me around in the chair. "See these layers? It's like one big layer around the middle of your head." Gulp.

"It's just not a good cut."

OKAY!

How can I love someone after that abuse? To tell you the truth, as shitty as it was to hear, I was glad to have the validation that my relationship wasn't working. And, obviously, my new love knows what he's doing. He pointed out things I had worried about while I was getting this particular cut, which means that, well, he has eyes. That's all I'm looking for.

"I do see what this cut was going for, though," he says. "The execution just wasn't right."

I recognize this as his attempt to be softer and more gentle in his critique. While he's feeling kind, I bring up my color and ask his thoughts on that. Even though I've got about an inch of roots showing and I desperately need a touch up, he only briefly mentions that I could use some filler at the top. He generally likes the color itself, but says I could try stronger highlights, since this IS the summer. I figure, what the hell, and book him for Sunday to improve on this mop.

So, to my ex, good luck to you. I will no longer sit idly in your chair as you tell tales of your wild nights, drinking binges and torrid sexual encounters with other couples (yes), all peppered with innocent anecdotes about your daughter. I'm going to someone new. I'm excited and optimistic, and though you and I started out strong, I think it's time we both explore other options. Who knows, maybe I'll be back one day for a quickie. But for now, I'm moving on.