How About Now?

“No.” I shook my head sternly. “I’m not seeing enough attitude there. I need to see more volume. I need it to have more… personality.”

Rochelle rolled her eyes and set the mirror down on the counter in front of me. “Since when do you care so much about how your hair looks?”

I smirked. “I have a date tonight.”

“Yeah?” Rochelle smiled. She slid her fingers through my hair and delicately lined up her scissors, barely snipping the ends. “This is a new girl?”

I’d recently separated from my girlfriend of about eight years. The last time I’d been to Rochelle, we had talked all about it. Rochelle and I had been friends since high school, still talking every couple of months when I’d get a haircut from her, so I felt fairly comfortable opening up to her about my personal life.

“It is,” I said.

“Where’d you meet her?” Rochelle flicked on the razor and gently pushed my head forward.

I felt goosebumps run up my spine as she brushed at my neck with the razorblade. “I actually haven’t yet. We both swiped the same way on Tinder. I guess that means we’re cosmically compatible.”

“Tinder?” Rochelle asked skeptically. “How old are you?”

“Don’t worry about it Rochelle. I’m old enough.”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Cuz that’s what I meant.” She grabbed a feather duster off the counter and wiped hair away from my neck. She unsnapped the cape, yanked it off to the side, and I stood up, analytically gauging my reflection.

“Rochelle, do you have like any maximum sass type of hair gel?” I wondered as I began to follow her toward the cash register up front.

“You’re more upbeat than the last time I saw you,” she replied. “You have a new girl, a new haircut, and a new attitude. That’s the boy I remember from tenth grade.”

We had actually been pretty good friends for a while back in high school. Most people thought I was a jerk back then, mainly because of how introverted I was, but she and I always got along great. In hindsight, Rochelle might have been my closest friend for a couple years back then. We kept in touch throughout college but as time wore on, a space grew between us. Our lives forked in different directions and the only time we talked anymore was when I’d return to her chair every couple months.

“Does my hair look better nowadays?” I joked.

She set a bottle of hairspray on the counter. “Here, Mr. High-Maintenance. This is a three-spritz compound. Just spray a little cloud in the air, walk through it, and go crazy with whatever style you want. You’ll have about five minutes before it hardens.”

“That’s what she said,” I giggled.

Rochelle rolled her eyes and smiled. “Don’t use too much or it’ll look like a shell.”

I handed her my credit card. “What are you up to tonight?” I asked.

Rochelle’s face lit up. “I have a first date too, actually.” She slid the card through the reader and handed it back.

“You’re not with Francis anymore?”

She shook her head. “His name was Frankie. No, he was a little too… how do I say it?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Boring?”

“No, just kind of dumb. Like he had no depth to his thoughts at all.”

Rochelle never stayed with a guy for very long. I think her longest relationship had only lasted just over a year. I never understood it either. She was sweet, pretty, and easy going, and most of her boyfriends seemed like nice enough guys by the way she talked about them.

“Well, good luck tonight,” I said. “Maybe I’ll run into you on Tinder one of these nights.”

Rochelle covered her mouth and muffled the shot of laughter she couldn’t contain. “See ya later Mikey,” she said.

I walked out the door and headed across the parking lot. My mind wandered toward where it usually did when I left Rochelle’s salon – to wonder why I hadn’t ever asked her out. I always heard people say we’d be great together. I couldn’t pick out too many flaws with her either. We just didn’t have any sexual sparks between us. Being around her was always sort of like eating vanilla ice cream – comforting, but lacking something. Maybe I was too picky. Or, maybe my dating expectations were always a bit unrealistic. Rochelle was different than anyone I’d ever been with so I’d always assumed she wasn’t my type.

My last girlfriend was a full blown narcissist and emotionally abusive. She seemed nice enough when we first met but before I knew what was happening, years had gone by and I felt mentally trapped, like she had convinced me of all the ways in which I’d been broken before, and she was the only one who could fix me. Before her I dated Mel, a girl I met through a friend in college, and she spent ninety percent of her time pissed off. Mel was a rebound anyway. The girl before her cheated on me, then pretended like we were never together. Come to think of it, no matter what I did, I always seemed to find the exact same girl. I hated drama, but I never could seem to find someone that wasn’t full of it. I guess I subconsciously always wanted the relationship my parents pretended they didn’t have.

“Wait,” I said to myself, stopping near my car. “Why don’t I just ask Rochelle out?” I spun my head around and looked back toward the salon. “Maybe she’s like the girl in the movies – the obvious choice who everyone else wants me to end up with but it somehow doesn’t occur to me until the last scene?”

I felt myself seriously considering the proposition. It wasn’t like we’d be ruining anything if we tried dating and it didn’t work out. Oh well if she wasn’t interested. Worst case, I’d just find another hair stylist.

“You know what?” I whispered to myself. “Screw it.” I began striding confidently back toward the salon. I could see Rochelle through the front window, sweeping near her stall, smiling to herself as she seemingly searched her thoughts. She was probably daydreaming about the possibilities of what her upcoming date might bring. I suddenly felt my stomach tighten with nerves.

“Maybe she’s thinking about me,” I said, trying to ward off the bout of second guessing I knew was barreling toward me. I picked up my pace, practically jogging as I neared the door.

I skidded to a halt just outside the entrance and took a deep breath to compose myself. I was going to walk in, smile, and just ask her if she’d like to have drinks together before our dates. If she seemed overly excited about the proposition, I’d ask if she’d have any interest in cancelling our respective dates and catching a movie instead.

“New girl,” I whispered to myself. “New haircut, new attitude, and… new life.” I reached my hand forward to open the door.

“Mikey!” I heard someone call out. I looked to my right.

“Chelsey?” I asked. She was just as beautiful as I’d remembered. The nerves in my stomach turned into butterflies.

“Hey!” she replied. “You’re not still mad at me, are you?”

I hadn’t thought about her in years. After she’d cheated on me, I always found myself wanting her even more, like she was somehow unattainable in a weird, attractive way. I pretended to hate her to hide how much she had hurt me. It took me a long time to get over her.

“I was never mad at you,” I said, unsure of why I was lying. I scanned her ring finger out of curiosity and didn’t see any jewelry.

“I can’t believe I ran into you,” Chelsey smiled. “I just broke up with my fiancé a week ago. For some reason I found myself thinking about you last night.”

My heart began to race. I tried to play it cool. “Lucky me,” I smirked.

Chelsey didn’t seem to pick up on my sarcasm. “Yeah.” She looked up, staring directly into my eyes. “Maybe.”

I looked inside the salon and noticed Rochelle staring at me, smiling. Her expression seemed expectant, like she sensed what I was thinking about doing and wanted me to come inside. I knew that’s where my head wanted to be.

“Do you want to take me out to dinner?” Chelsey asked.

My body tensed up. I could feel my heart trying to escape. Even after all these years, Chelsey still stirred something inside me. And, I still wanted to hate her for it.

“When were you thinking?” I asked, still watching Rochelle. She waved, turned around, and headed toward the far end of the salon.

“How about now?” Chelsey said.

I nibbled my bottom lip as I debated. Deep down, I knew I’d already made the wrong decision.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Thanks for buying me dinner.” Chelsey hung her coat on the back of her chair and sat down.

I smiled, pretending to be confused. “Am I buying?”

She burned a wry grin in my direction. She knew I was kidding, there was no doubt about that, but she was making it known in a not-so-subtle manner that it would be my treat. I expected to pay, and I would have insisted should the topic have come up naturally, but I didn’t really foresee it being stipulated before we’d even met the waiter.

“I’m just kidding Chelsey. Of course I’m buying.”

She carefully opened her menu without responding. Whether she was mad, annoyed, impartial, or just being playful in her own unique way, I sensed an anxious energy forming between us already. I knew I was uncomfortable at any rate. My chest was tingling ever so slightly and my foot had begun its nervous bouncing exercise beneath my chair.

“Have you ever eaten here before?” I asked, watching her beautiful blue eyes scan across the menu she held just above the table.

“No, but it seems pretty nice.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I think it’s got a good date aura about it.”

Chelsey’s eyes strayed from the menu and bounced around the dining room, dissecting the elegant views, and I found myself becoming more hopeful. The calm lighting soothed my negative thoughts, transforming them into self-awareness. I was too used to my ex I figured, her always criticizing me and demanding control over everything, and I was letting it interfere with the beautiful date I was on with a beautiful girl. As I debated what question to ask next, it occurred to me; I didn’t remember much about Chelsey’s personality. When we dated in college for a few months, most of our conversations revolved around hockey, each of us having played back then, and outside of the occasional study session or night out at the local bar, we’d spent most of our time together making out. As much fun as it had been, we hadn’t built much of a tangible emotional connection. I must have fallen in love with the idea of what we might have been back then, not what we ever were. But I knew once we settled into the night in front of us and loosened up a bit, we’d have no trouble reconnecting. We were progressing methodically toward our future.

Chelsey looked back at her menu. “I mean… this place is no Emmanuelle, but it’s fine.”

The word swimmingly jumped into my mind. Things were progressing swimmingly.

“That place costs two hundred dollars a meal. And you get like three bites.” I grabbed the wine menu. An imminent investment in alcohol was in order – for both of us.

“No, it’s fine Mikey. This place is very nice.” Her comforting attempt to pat the back of my hand didn’t feel as agreeable as she’d meant it to be. “Oh, and I didn’t mean to interfere with your haircut earlier. Did you not have time after we talked?”

“Oh… I had just gotten it cut. I was going back in to leave a tip.”

“Really?” she asked skeptically, looking at my spikey dew with almost exaggerated intent. “You wanted it to look like that?”

Alright I thought. Have some self-respect here Michael. You don’t need to be a dick, not that you could pull that off anyway, and don’t act overly nonchalant like you’re trying way too hard to be sweet, but stand up for yourself. Otherwise this whole dynamic will trend the wrong way in a hurry.

I chuckled. “The last person who ripped on my hair had to pay for their own dinner.”

Brilliant maneuver Michael. Great choice of words there.

Chelsey’s face slowly reddened while she glared straight through me. Somehow she was constricting my airways using nothing but a silent judgment charade. I didn’t feel comfortable, my jokes were missing big, and Chelsey’s vibe was as comforting as an electric fence. It was time to stop kidding myself and admit I’d made a huge mistake.

“Listen,” I said, practically inhaling. “Can I just say goodbye? I don’t want to be here.”

Even though I’d transitioned into complete avoidance, purposely dodging her gaze, I could see Chelsey’s lips tremble for a split second. It didn’t look like sadness though. The audacity of what I’d just said to her was bubbling throughout her body, stirring up a pile of kinetic energy that I could tell was about to erupt.

I stood up and grabbed my jacket. “Take care Chels,” I said, and as I strode away from our table, Rochelle popped into my mind. I hadn’t gone back inside earlier to talk to her and regret was slowly filling me where my meal should have been digesting. Hopefully, if we were meant to be together, I’d have another chance with Rochelle. My instincts told me to go out with Chelsey and they’d been wrong once again. My whole life I followed my heart, and the universe’s guidance, and time after time they had let me down.

I pushed open the door and walked outside, forcing myself to find the silver lining in it all. The best decision I’d made all day was not driving Chelsey to our date. I figured I’d better not, just in case.

A boy and somewhat familiar looking girl were walking past the entrance when I emerged. “I don’t know,” she said to him. “Maybe we’re cosmically compatible.”

Before he even responded I could tell his eyebrows weren’t buying it. “Why?" he wondered. "Because you both swiped the same way on Tinder?”

I felt a sense of déjà vu disorient me.

“Yeah,” she giggled. They were already a few feet away and I could only see her back, but I could have sworn I’d met her before.

“Isn’t that app for teenagers?” her friend asked. “Are you sure he’s old enough?”

“Meghan?” I called out.

She spun her head around, half confused and half excited, and saw me. She closed one eye while she sized me up for a few seconds. “Are you… Mikey?”

“Yeah.”

Our date was still about two hours away but she was definitely the girl from Tinder – the one I’d almost cancelled on, the one I’d purposely avoided picking up Chelsey because of. Just in case.

I walked toward her and extended my hand. “Nice to officially meet you.”

She gripped my fingertips and lightly shook my hand in return. Her touch was very gentle. The softness in her energy felt nice. And she looked prettier in real life than in her bio picture. I’d fallen in love with a thousand girls the first time they smiled at me but I felt something different with her almost immediately – a connection I couldn’t explain. I was attracted to her presence. It was a feeling I couldn’t remember having prior to that moment.

“Do you still want to meet up later?” I asked.

Her mouth opened slightly and she looked at her friend, clearly seeking his approval to ditch out early on whatever they had planned. He seemed saddened but didn’t object, simply shrugging his shoulders in impartiality. She quickly looked back at me and smiled. “How about now?”

Good thing I left it up to the universe I thought. Hasn’t let me down yet.

Truth was, I was finally ready to listen.