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Monday, August 28, 2006Love Is...Having My Own, Personal Hairstylist
 I have no intention of embarrassing my husband; in fact, I've been vacillating all day between the "should" and "shouldn't" of posting this article. Yet my heart begs its sharing. You see, my darling Eric decided he was going to take me out last night -- except he wasn't going to tell me where. "I'm going to take a shower," he said, "and then we'll leave." "Well, where are we going?" "Somewhere." He had that cute, irresistible smile, so I didn't press him. "Change your shirt," he said as he was preparing to hop into the shower. "Change my shirt?" I had to remind myself not to shriek because, after all, my darling was taking me out on a surprise date. "Why do I have to change my shirt?" "Well, you might want to put on something fresh," Eric said. "Something fresh??" And then it dawned on me. I was wearing The Brown Shirt That Eric Hates. You remember the one -- his mouth dropped in silent disdain when I took my jacket off at his office Christmas party and he saw what I was wearing underneath. Yeah, that shirt. "You really hate this shirt, don't you?" I said. But I laughed -- and changed my shirt. "What if you take your hair down?" Eric said as he dried himself. Okay, this was getting to be a bit much. I didn't remember Eric's ever being so particular about my clothing and hair. "Well, I've had my hair up all day," I said. "It's not going to look right if I take it down." "Give it a try," Eric said. Fine. I unclipped my hair and let it fall. It looked absolutely, positively horrible. Eric sized up the situation. Then came the best part of all. "Here," he said, taking my brush in hand. I stood in mute disbelief as he began to brush my hair. Now, perhaps hairbrushing is a regular part of some people's relationships -- but not ours. Eric has never been the hair brushing type. I, on the other hand, could sit in a chair all day long while someone brushes my hair. I'm sure that must signal some deeply-buried psychological quirk, but I'm not going to go there. My hair was being uncooperative, so Eric wet it down -- gently, as though I were a three-year-old waiting patiently for a smooth ponytail. Then -- and by this time, I was sure that someone had either drugged Eric or swapped brains with him -- he reached for the hairdryer and started styling my hair. I didn't mind that my hair wasn't parted the way I like it. I didn't even mind when my earring got caught in the brush and almost tore my earlobe from its place. The whole experience was Too Good To Be True, and I was soaking it up like a dehydrated sponge. "Do you like it?" he asked when he'd finished. I giggled. Maybe it was because my husband had just styled my hair for the first time in eighteen years of marriage, or maybe it was because I suddenly felt like a twenty-year-old. "Yes, I do," I said. It wasn't so much that I liked it because I liked it; it was more that I liked it because Eric had done it for me. He actually got my naturally-wavy-and-fairly-unmanageable hair to look sleek. To me, that was nothing short of amazing. I could have gone to the moon and back that evening without batting an eyelash. My sweet husband had just set the stage for a magical date -- and he knew it. We went to The Cheesecake Factory and had a glass of wine and some spinach-cheese dip. (Despite its name, The Cheesecake Factory has the worst excuse for cheesecake that you will ever encounter; but since we didn't order any, I suppose that's rather moot.) It was a lovely evening. Enchanting, even. Call me weird (most people already have), but there was something indescribably precious about having my hair done by my True Love. Who knows -- maybe next time he'll give me a pedicure. Or shave my legs. Or scrub the shower stall. Yes, that would definitely send me. Ain't love grand? |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
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17of my readers are feeling chatty:
My dear wife says "Yes, I do. It wasn't so much that I liked it because I liked it; it was more that I liked it because Eric had done it for me."
Well for the record, faithful readers, she DID tell me she LIKED it, with not even the slightest hint of any condition.
:)
Wow! That was romantic and "giving".
Now, I wonder if my husband of 7 years would take eleven more to do just that, brush my hair. That would be the day!!!
Cheers!
Deb
How sweet!
That was a very nice story. Made me smile.
(Also? I always thought I was the only one who didn't care for the Cheesecake Factory's cheesecake.)
:)
Very sweet! Dave won't even paint my toenails. Even when I was pregnant and couldn't reach them. He does a mean foot rub though!
Awww :-)
I'm jealous - and I'm a guy!
But now Eric has given me some ideas to expand the anniversary surprise I'm planning for my first year married to Mrs.Write (October 1st).
Thanks!
I won't paint your toenails, because I know that when I would be finished, you would like to be able to distinguish between toes and toenails.
Odds are you would have 5 ketchup laden french fries for toes with me at the brush.
Oh my goodness! That post made my heart flutter. I got all teared up.
I love that post...what more can I say.
Thanks for sharing an "intimate" moment between the two of you. Most women would love to have that kind of attention paid to them, you two are an inspiration
forgot to mention, I'd be one of the "most women" :)
Mrsatroxi -- Well, shoot, it's not real cheesecake! It's....fluff on a plate. Real cheesecake is dense...with no graham crackers stuck to it...and you actually have to CHEW it. It's very hard to find REAL cheesecake.
Dramamama -- You don't know HOW STINKIN' LUCKY YOU ARE to have a master food-rubber in your life. I CRAVE foot massages; literally crave them. And I don't get them. I've begged, I've whined, I've groaned, I've tried to reason -- and I still don't get them. Consider yourself VERY FORTUNATE! :) (Maybe Dave could give Eric a few pointers...)
Jerry -- HAPPY ANNIVERSARY! You're not actually going to do Mrs.Write's hair....are you?? :)
Anonymous -- Thank you for that. And...I think you're right about the "most women" thing, and I need to remember that the next time a complaint is ready to fly out of my mouth!!
Awwwwww! That was really sweet of Eric - and the picture you posted is really sweet too! I'm happy for you two. =) And jealous too! I wonder when I will meet My True Love??? =( By the way, I also enjoy having my hair brushed and styled by someone else. Hahaha. =D
A master food rubber?
I am a master food EATER, thank you very much! :)
Dave!! ROFLOL!! I can't believe I typed that. And your comment came through to my email box and I was like...huh?? LOL
Tarie -- you WILL find your true love some day! You'll know it's him when he sits down and starts brushing your beautiful, dark hair. :)
You know... looking at that picture, I can't tell if you two like each other or not! :)
He's okay, I guess. :)
I'd give up a boob if my husband would brush my hair! lol
OMG, that is so romantic!
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