Mad Hair

Story Sent in by Patricia:

At a time when my hair was the longest it had ever been, I found myself out on a date with Joel. He commented on it, saying,"Your hair is really beautiful. Like TV commercial beautiful."

"Thanks."

"Can I touch your hair?"

It wasn't a big deal to me, so I let him run a little strand through his fingers. "Beautiful," he said again, and I thanked him.

We enjoyed a good meal, and talked about anything and everything. As we walked out, he strode alongside me, and he ran his hand through my hair, again. That was creepy, but I decided not to say anything unless he tried it again. Maybe he was just being affectionate, and maybe it was harmless.

Once we left, the restaurant, he asked me, "How long do you think it'll take for me to grow my hair out that long?"

His hair was pretty short, and I answered him, "Probably around a year? Maybe? I don't know how fast your hair grows."

His hands went to his hair, and he pulled and pulled at it. He said, "Do you think this will help? If I pull on it, every day? Maybe it'll stretch it."

I said, "I wouldn't do that to your hair."

He snapped his fingers and looked really excited. "Oh! I know! A weave! I could get it that long with a weave in like, any salon, right?"

"Uh... yeah... a weave?"

"Which salon do you go to?" he asked.

"Uh... Salon Beleza, on Columbus and Vine."

He was really excited, by that point. "Yeah, yeah. That's what I'll do."

I asked him, "Are you serious?"

"Look at your hair! It's beautiful! This would be a good change for me. Can you see me with long hair?"

"Sure."

The night had taken such a strange turn that I pretended to be tired, and we parted ways.

The next time I was at the salon, I told my stylist about Joel, and I asked her if anyone matching his description ever came in. Apparently, he had, and they had talked him out of a weave. Thank goodness.