Matt loved my hair. At the time, I kept it long– like down to my butt long. It wasn’t all for his benefit… Long hair meant never paying for haircuts and always having enough hair for a quick braid or updo. Also, my dorm showers’ water pressure made the task of washing butt-length hair doable on a nearly daily basis.

But, partly, it was for him. I will admit I felt like a princess when he was dazzled by my styling prowess or enamored of running his fingers through just-washed, shampoo-smelling tresses.

When we broke up, I cut it off, a little out of spite.

I wish I’d been the type of ballsy to stare at myself in my dorm bathroom mirror, grit my teeth, and take a pair of safety scissors to my hair myself. (And, of course, if you believe the movies, it ends up looking all cute and French, because everyone who gives themselves a short haircut with no prior experience can make it look like a $400 cut from a European stylist-of-the-stars.)

Instead, I consulted a friend who told me I had to go see Jonathan. She said his name on a half-moan: “Jonnnathan.” I made an appointment.


I wore a hat on the walk up to the salon. I’m not sure why. I never really wore hats. I think maybe I was nervous– I knew I wanted to ask him to cut it short, and if it turned out terribly, well, at least I had a hat. I don’t know. It must have made sense to me at the time.

“I have an appointment with Jonathan,” I squeaked.

“Oh, Jonnnathan,” cooed the receptionist. “You’ll love him.”

Turns out Jonathan was the tallest, best-haired, handsomest, biggest-bicepped hairdresser in all the land. My chewing gum fell out of my mouth when he came to get me.

He chatted with me while he washed my hair. I didn’t hear a word. I was too busy ogling his arms.

He told me I was brave for cutting my hair short. I giggled like a loon.

He put his face inches from mine while he was evening out the front. I couldn’t breathe.

When he was done, he told me my cheekbones were amazing and my new haircut really showed them off, and I blushed to the roots of my new ‘do.

He handed my hat back. I dropped it in the garbage can. He laughed. I nearly died on the spot.

“Cute haircut! Did you see Jonnnathan?” my friend asked later.

“Oh I saw him.”


“I would love this haircut even if it was awful.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, and her eyes went all soft and starry.

Best rebound haircut ever.

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