It's not you, it's me (actually, it's my roots)

OMG, I broke up with someone today.

My hairdresser.

It's actually been a long time coming. I have not been happy with my color for some time now. (You know. Because a lot of Italians are "naturally" blond.)

But yet, I probably stuck with my hairdresser for the same reasons I've stuck with ex-boyfriends for too long:

• I'm loyal to a fault. (But don't ever eff me over. Ever. I'll never forgive you.) I've been going to my hairdresser since I was in high school (minus a few years in college). She's seen me through all of my major relationships (and break-ups!), and I've seen her through hers. She even saved me from myself that one summer that I decided to use Sun-In. We go waaaaaaaay back.


• I'm always hopeful that bad habits will somehow go away. Picking a drunk nite with his friends over a date nite with me? Oh, he's just getting it out of his system and will be ready to settle down soon. Being oddly reserved with his emotions? Oh, it's just because he got hurt in his last relationship and needs time to build up trust with me. Having to part my hair in juuuuuust the right spot to avoid showing that weird white chunk of hair? Oh, it'll just be this way for the next 6-8 weeks and will probably be better next time.


• It generally takes a hell of a lot to make me end a relationship. Like not committing to me after six-plus years of dating. Or playing with my emotions because you're selfishly dealing with your own issues. Or leaving me with roots just two weeks after I saw you.

All kidding aside, this was not an easy break-up. (And who's to say we might not get back together again some day?)

But I also think (and hope!) she saw it coming and that it wasn't out of the blue. Because, as both my exes and my hairdresser alike know, it's not a huge secret when I'm not happy.

So, I guess it's over. A 15+ year relationship down the (hair-clogged) drain.

But, unlike my real dating life, I already have a rebound in the wings. Our first "date" is May 21. "Hair's" hoping for a better match this time around so I don't have to become a hairdresser whore.

(Don't worry, blogmom and blogdad. I'm not a whore in real life.)