trust and the sociological experiment… set the mood: attagirl – bettie serveert

February 23, 2006 at 1:30 am Leave a comment

Today, I became a blonde.

I've played around with different haircolours in the past. It's possible I was a blonde at one point, although the likelyhood of me reaching that colour on purpose is rather minute. To be honest, it isn't as light as I would have liked it, but I'll take this time to get used to my new social status.

Considering my fine hair and porcelaine skin, blonde was a route that required some trust between myself and my stylist. I would never, ever allow anyone but her do this to me. In the time I've been with her (5 years), I've tried two others, the first because I was cheap (she slaughtered my hair, and my old stylist had to cut everything off and start fresh – I looked like Johnny Rotten for six months, but that was fine by me), the second because my stylist has stopped listening to my demands for an asymetrical bob. Her replacement, Ronnie, seemed darling at first, but he soon became violent and I had to return, my grown out bob in shambles.

I like to equate the trust I have in my hairdresser to that which is necessary to have a long lasting romantic relationship. As far as the regular trust that he won't cheat on you goes, that's not really what I'm thinking of, probably because I have experienced being in love with someone who is everything but faithful. Sometimes you just can't help but care for someone you know is a complete asshole. As far as trust goes, I think it should be more like trusting that another person is going to want the best for you, that they will do what they can to keep you in a safe place, be that mentally or physically. I also think that trust is based on whether or not the person even cares about you. This is probably the reason I let myself get into the situation mentioned above, because I trusted that he cared for me, regardless of his long term girlfriend. Sometimes I'm a sucker.

My reasoning for going blonde is two-fold:

First of all, I'm a brunette naturally, so I know that blondes are treated much better than us, their boring counterparts. I'm not sure if blondes are clever enough to know this. Ha ha. So, curiosity has spurred me to bleach it up, to see if gentlement (and everyone else) truly do prefer blondes.

Secondly, considering I'm trying my best to be me competely, as in bring my personality to the fore like I never have in the past, I thought perhaps that a bubbly new hair colour would help. I have not changed the cut, since my stylist is a genius and we shouldn't mess with that which has already been perfected (wait, so why am I doing this again?), so this is really just about the colour (okay, I did get a trim, because it had been an embarassingly long time since the last cut – so long that the original cut was short and spikey, with red chunks – it is now shoulder length).

I like doing these little sociological experiments. My greatest one to date, although the seizure experiments were quite a riot, was the Mailman. When I was working at the kitchen store, the original Mailman, Jean or Guy, definately Guy, was charming. Every morning it was "good morning lovely ladies!" But his route was changed, and the new mailman, we'll just call him Mailman because we were never formerly introduced, was significantly less charismatic. Every morning he would shuffle in, throw the mail behind the cash and hustle out as quickly as he'd come, avoiding eye contact at all cost.

After several months of this ridiculous behavior, I decided it had to end, and that I would try to break this cranky little man of his sour attitude. Every morning from then on I would smile, say hello and ask him how his day was going. It took some time, but he eventually got to the point where he'd look me in the eye, smile, say hello, ask me how I was doing, and hand me the mail, not just throw it on the counter. I felt I had succeeded in making this man's job more enjoyable.

I think I made it too enjoyable, however. Because one day he asked me out. Honestly, I was 21, and he was atleast 40, and despite my attraction to older men, unless you're Bill Maher or Anderson Cooper, that much of an age difference is not my thing. I was uncomfortable to say the least, and when I'm not sure what to say, I giggle. I don't think that helped his self esteem.

So, I never dated the Mailman, and our relationship was forever changed. After avoiding him for a couple of months, and pretending to not recognize him when he came in the store in plainclothes, the mail delivery returned to no words, no eye contact, mail tossed on the counter like nothing had ever happened in the first place.

You'd think that awkward event would have turned me off of my social experimentation urges. Not in the least.

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Entry filed under: , philosophy, This That and The Other.

the amazing feats of technology… an old 20GB from 2004, no video, no colour, just scratches and destroyed earphones… set the mood: Combat Baby – Metric

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