Breaking up with the hairdresser

You might already find it sickly sweet that The Mister and I live together and work together. It so happens that in San Francisco we went to the same place for haircuts and the face lady. We’d been going there about 18 months before they realized we were married – “Oh Craig is your husband? He’s tall dark and slender?” Hell yes!

So I told my face lady about the move to New York on our second to last appointment – it was news since I saw her last so a natural topic of conversation. She asked if The Mister’s hair lady knew … I said I doubted it. Well, that caused some ructions – on his next visit his hair lady was standing with eyebrows raised at her chair waiting for him to sit down, staring at him in the mirror … mouth held firmly in a line: “So, any news??”

He didn’t want to say anything until the last appointment it seems. His hand was forced. Which made me think I don’t want to be on the receiving end of breaking up with him – seems while I’m willing to discuss it, months in advance and make it a sad but exciting and understandable event, he wants to wait to the last minute, rip the bandaid off by breaking the news, never to return!!

(On the other hand, I haven’t told my hair man and I’ve already left town. Mind you’d I’d only seen him twice, months and months apart, whereas The Mister is a regular in his hair lady’s life.)


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