Nurse the Hate: A Bombshell

It was a complete surprise.  I knew that she might have been involved with other men, but this still was a shock.  She was so cavalier in telling me the news, which made it even worse.  I played it cool, like it meant nothing, but I was destroyed.  I found her behavior selfish and immature, even factoring in her young age.  She gave no thought to anyone but herself, not even mentioning to me the possibility that our relationship was on shaky ground.  I was totally unprepared.  It’s unbelievable she would just do what she did to me.  How could my hair stylist just get engaged and prepare to move away from the city without even a thought to my needs?  That fucking bitch.

I know what you are thinking.  Where do you go from here after that selfish woman did what she did?  How can you ever trust in that relationship again?  Let’s face it.  I’m not a young man any more.  I’m not going to just go rushing into a series of one off haircuts with whatever trashy young thing with a pair of scissors comes around.  Sure, it might be OK once or twice.  Fun even.  But I am at a point in my life where I want more than just a new pair of hands washing flowery conditioner off my head every 4-5 weeks.  I know what I want.  I expect more.  I don’t want to have to go through the awkward introductory phase of surface questions.  “Oh, what part of town do you live?”   Don’t you understand?  I had a stylist that already knew where I lived.   We had something.  Something you could never understand.

Now I am going to bounce around that salon like a cheap prom date.  Maybe I get my haircut from Sheila.  Let’s say it doesn’t work out.  Maybe she smells like cigarettes.  Maybe she can’t stop talking about her ex-husband.  Maybe she can’t cut hair very well and I wind up looking like a member of the Small Faces in 1969.  Then I go to Jessica.  There I am sitting in the chair with Jessica when Sheila walks by.  That’s very uncomfortable.  “Oh… Hi Sheila… I just… I called last minute and…  I guess Jessica could fit me in and… Ah…”  Then Sheila will hit me with a smug smile that says “sure” while offering lip service along the lines of “It’s no big deal” when we both know it’s a big deal.  Suddenly I’m involved in this “whole thing” between Sheila and Jessica when all I want is to be back with my old stylist Jenny (despite Jenny tossing me away like a Styrofoam cup, which makes me feel even worse).  I am lost in a sea of hopelessness. 

I will admit to having some dark conversations this afternoon.  Desperate times make men do desperate things.  At one point, there was a discussion of setting up Jenny’s fiancé in a compromising situation with a prostitute where I would have him drugged and the prostitute killed.  When he woke up my henchmen would convince the fiancé that he had killed the hooker in a drug fueled rage.  I would then dispose of the prostitute’s body as a favor to the fiancé while in exchange forcing him to break off the engagement.  It seemed to be a reasonable solution.  Ultimately it was decided that a blackmail operation involving killing a relatively innocent sex worker might be a bit rash right out of the gate.  That’s on hold while other options are explored.

There is just so much uncertainty.  I’ve been out of “the game” for a long time now.  I don’t even know how someone goes about meeting a new stylist these days.  Is there some sort of app I need to download?  Do I have to go to some sort of speed chair situation where I sit in a series of stylist chairs where we feel each other out for compatibility?  Am I expected just to walk in cold off the street and ask someone I don’t even know, “Want to give me a haircut”?  What if she says no?  In front of all her friends?  I just don’t know if I can deal with that…

I think back to the good days with my old stylist.  Was that all a lie?  It’s hard now to know she was probably already planning to stick a knife in my back and leave me while she spent 12 minutes cutting my hair a month ago.  It was partially my fault for not making it clear that my expectations were for her to put my needs ahead of hers always.  This situation partially reminds me of when my previous stylist, also a self-centered narcissist, left the salon to have a baby.  I swear that woman thought the world revolved around her.  It's yet another case where this woman failed to look at The Big Picture.  Despite that I failed to learn a lesson and just jumped into a new stylist relationship.  Look how that worked out...    

I’m still in shock.  I don’t know where I go from here.  I’m just trying to pick up the pieces and see what comes next.  It’s my only option.  Well, that or start wearing a knit reggae cap and grow dreads.