A Hairy Break-Up

I’ve been obsessed with hair since I was a little girl, when I religiously watched The Sonny and Cher Show.  Cher became my idol.  My hair idol.  The way she used to flip it around, and how it then swayed back and forth behind her, made me so envious.  And, it was long and shiny and straight.  So fucking straight!

You see, when I was little, my hair wouldn’t grow.  I had these two little pigtails that looked like a set of rabbit ears.  So what did I do?  I walked around the house with a dish-towel on my head and pretended I was Cher with that long straight jet-black hair.  A little odd, yes.  But, I was desperate to know what it felt like to have long lustrous locks.

As, I got older, my hair grew.  Phew.  And, through my adolescent and teenage years I enjoyed somewhat long, but unfortunate hairstyles that can only be found during the Aqua-Net spraying 80’s.  You all know what I’m talking about.  We all have those pictures, from that era, where our hair often entered a room before we did.

Well, my childhood trauma of stunted hair growth, made me eternally neurotic about any pair of scissors that dared touch my hair.  I’m sure there are many a hairdresser in the greater tri-state area that needed a drink or two after I departed.  But, whatever.  It was my hair, damn-it!

With every new hairdresser, I prayed that this might be the ONE.  You know, my hair G-d.  My hair shrink.  My hair bartender. The ONE that I was meant to be with for the long haul, and spill all my deep dark secrets to.

It was about a year after college when I found him.  Standing there, in all his beautiful French attitude.  He was tall, handsome, French (did I already say that?), and he got me.  He really got me.  You might say, “he had me at, bonjour.”  Ok, he spoke English, but that’s not the point.

His name was Francois.  And, I was in hairstylist love.  Every haircut was perfect.  Year in, and year out, pure perfection.  I would check and check to see if one side was longer than the other, but no.  I could never stump Francois.  He was a hair genius.  He really gave good hair.

A Francois cut. Perfect. Sam's, not so good.

Our relationship lasted for fifteen years.  He was with me through the single in the city years, the dating Mark years into engagement and marriage, the Japan years (yes, I came back just so Francois could cut my hair), and finally my Mommy years.  And, I was with him through his move to Georgia, his marriage, his Daddy years, and ultimately, his divorce.

So, you can imagine how devastating our break-up was for me.  Extremely.  So devastating, in fact, that I’m still not ready to talk about it.  Well, I’ll just give you the basics.

I was in the chair with a wet head, he was standing over me with his scissors, and there were words.  I was five minutes late. He then made me wait 98 minutes in retaliation.  I was pissed.  He was pissed.  I had both boys with me watching this exchange at the salon.  He was losing custody of both his boys to his ex-wife in Georgia.

The whole scene was a hot mess.  Francois was yelling in French.  I told him it was over.  I grabbed the boys, threw off the robe, and ran out with my wet head of hair.

Sam had to be at a birthday party in ten minutes.  Looking like a hot mess, I walked into the party, settled Sam, gave the gift to the birthday boy’s Mom , and then, the waterworks started.  I couldn’t control myself.  She put her arms reassuringly around me.  I blurted out, “I just broke up, with my hairdresser, Francois.  We were together for fifteen years.  Fifteen years.  And, now poof.  We’re done.”

The birthday Mom just nodded in tacit understanding.  “Who’s going to do my hair now?”  I sobbed.

That was two and a half years ago.  And, while I have yet to find my next hairstylist, I am thankful for the time I shared with Francois, and for all the great cuts and advice he gave me over the years.  What we had was special, and I know I’ll find it again.  I’ll salon hop until I do.  And, if I get a bad cut now and then, so what.  That’s the beauty of hair…it always grows back.

Do you guys have any similar break-up stories?  I’d love to hear…