As I pulled into a parking space, my nerves set in a little. Maybe I should’ve worn something else. I check my lipstick and get out of the car. I do some last minute fluffing to my hair & adjust my dress. As I walk towards the restaurant to meet my date, I tell myself to relax because what happens doesn't matter. It does matter. Maybe it doesn't….?
There he is, standing outside. Note to self- tall & good looking, a little under-dressed but no big deal. He opens the door & we’re seated. There’s laughter, conversation and good eye contact. He says he’s dating with a purpose, not just to be dating (check!). Not another GROWN man who wants to ”go with the flow” and “doesn't believe in titles.”
Then it happens. He touches my hair. I keep talking because I don’t mind. It’s not like a track is going to fall out. He stretches one of my curls down my back. He smiled and said,
“You would really be bad if you flat ironed your hair.”
Bad meaning good. *Record scratches* Trying to stay cool, I just smiled an insincere smile and said, “What does that mean?” My mind flashes to my walk here and how I was actually feeling myself. As I heard the sound of my heels against the ground, it made me taller. Even stepping into a restaurant and knowing I look a little different makes me feel good, but in that moment, in an already nervous situation, I was brought down some notches. I’m not immune to these things. He responds, “I’m saying it would be long & you would probably look good. Do you ever straighten it?” I look almost through him, “I thought I looked good already.” More aware of himself now, he says “Of course! I just see potential.” I interject as he trails off, “You’re saying I’d look better.” He casually answers, “Probably.
Do I start a cultural conversation maybe too deep for this setting or let it go? I simply say, “I would more closely resemble something that makes us comfortable.” He squinted a bit. I continued and finished the date with as much poise as I could, but as I walked to my car, the stride that I showed up with had left and I was no longer stomping blood from concrete. Driving home, I started to ponder the idea of if I’d look better with a weave or straight hair. Then I thought, with my gym schedule, I could never do that. I shook my head quickly trying to shake the thoughts out. Why am I entertaining this?
If your PROBLEM with me is that I have big hair…I’m winning.
[by Angel via Myhaircrush]