Tonight my hairdresser told me the key to true love while making me more blonde.
He added more gloss to my dark roots and in his thick Israeli accent said the key is being able to smell the other person’s mouth. I had him repeat it a few times just so I knew nothing was getting lost in translation.
He laughed to himself and checked my foils.
If you can stand the smell of the mouth no matter what, you’re meant to be together. Then, if you can stand the smell of the fart, you are all set. No problem.
He goes on and tells me how the girls in his chair ask him for advice about guys all the time. They say they don’t know what to do, they don’t know what things mean, they don’t know where things are going. Standard Cosmo crisis.
He asks them 2 questions : what do you want? what does he want?
He’s better than any bartender, bouncer and therapist I’ve heard from on this arena so that’s the main reason I’ve been going to him for the last five years. It doesn’t hurt that his haircuts are amazing...and he gives me wine.
He also wears tight pants.
Each time I sit in his chair every four months, he whispers in my ear the same thing: how is your Jewish boyfriend?
I remind him I’ve never had a Jewish boyfriend. And he questions me some more until he’s assured that I don’t have a boyfriend.
He ends the session by whispering close again and saying ‘You will meet a good Jewish boy’.
He’s worse than my mother in that sense which is why sometimes I just read a magazine.
I told him I was talking to my ex boyfriend again and he asked me his 2 questions.
I blushed and giggled, unable to answer him with a straight face.
My mind struggled between the plot lines of the Great Gatsby and 50 Shades.
“I know what I want, but I don’t think it’s going to happen”
I shoved away the scenes of elevator and car hookups playing in my head. I may need to read less. When is True Blood back on?
“I don’t know what he wants.” I said, just as the ex texted me asking if we were still on for drinks tomorrow night.
My hairdresser asked if I needed to get my phone and I shook my head, taking another gulp of wine.
He leaned in close again and whispered.
“Well, you figure it out tomorrow. In the meantime you’ll have sexy, beautiful hair. You have beautiful hair, did I tell you that?”