I Found My New Hairdresser — And I Might Have Found Both Boyfriend and Hairdresser, if He Wasn’t Already Married

It’s always been more difficult to find a good hairdresser than a good boyfriend. Ask any woman.

Especially now, where I live, in Santa Fe. Here both are tough to find. I’ve actually never had trouble before finding a boyfriend, or at least a friend with benefits. Especially in Santa Fe. I met my son’s father here in the Plaza, when I was visiting.

He was a tall, dark, drink of water. One of, as he said, “The only eight Black people in Santa Fe.” There are a few more now.

I’m also old(er) than I was then. Which you would think would help, since Santa Fe has become qutie the retirement destination.

There are two problems with that. I’m not retired and don’t plan to be. Most of the retired men live in what the Native Americans call the White Rez, 30 minutes from actual Santa Fe, in homes spread so far apart you might never know your neighbors. My friend has a home there, and she dates her repair people, the only men she meets. But I don’t live there.

I didn’t need a hairdresser previously here on all my visits. I need one now that I live here — see the story linked below for my hair travails in Santa Fe.

I was bemoaning this problem with my gorgeous bartender friend in one of the best restaurants in Santa Fe— the hair problem, not the man problem — when he said,

“The guy who does my hair is sitting at the end of the bar. Do you want to meet him?”

Yes, please.

Jacob, my bartender friend, has fabulous hair. Big black curls falling casually onto his forehead. Of course, I wanted to meet his hair guy.

Jacob moved down the bar to Steve, told him about me, and pointed me out. That evening I was wearing my hair curly, so it would have some hope of covering the cowlick which had advanced into a wide part down the back of my head. The curls also valiantly tried to hide the top of my head where the roots were growing out. Both making it look like I was losing my hair. Especially as I’m a redhead these days and the roots are a blondish gray.

I’d been wrestling with my hair for months. Bad haircuts that went against the grain caused me to fight with my hair constantly. The hair was winning.

Steve came to where I was sitting, charmed me immediately, and I let him run his hands through my hair.

“I can do something fabulous with this,” he said.

I swooned. Best pick up line ever. It didn’t hurt that he was a handsome, blonde, blue-eyed man. Not normally my type, but his charming ways made him my “type”. We made an appointment.

Two days before the appointment I dreamed about it. I was that excited. In the dream I brought a group of friends and my sister, and he cut all their hair beautifully. He took a break, and I left, coming back late in a panic. He graciously took me anyway, and I woke up elated as he began the first precise cuts into my hair.

The dream was prophetic. I was, indeed, late to the appointment, and he was, indeed, exceedingly gracious. I was elated as he began working on my hair, and I realized how experienced a professional he is.

He better be. He’s traveled with performers for years. He’s done the hair and makeup for many famous female and male singers and performers. I was in good hands.

He knew to cut into my curls, not against them. He knew how to go with the cowlicks, swirling them into the shape they want to be. The only product he used was a paste, to make the curls stand out and up into what is called these days a shattered bob. Or, as I like to call it, hair after a sexual experience, or just f****ed hair.

We laughed, joked, and told many of our stories while he cut, styled and highlighted. We were in sync. Could this be more than a professional relationship? Be still my beating heart.

Nope. He’s married. To a man. For sixteen years. And his husband is from one of the oldest families in Santa Fe, and works for the Attorney General here. Not someone I want to antagonize.

Not that I could. They are a happy couple. I met his husband the night I met him, but didn’t realize it as he is the quiet, laid back one of the couple. I’m excited to meet him again.

If I can’t find a real boyfriend on my own, at least I’ve found an excellent hairdresser. And between Steve and his husband they must know everybody in town.

If they’ll introduce me to all the eligible men, my charm and this new hair will do the rest. I hope.

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This post was previously published on New Choices.

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