I probably need to explain myself right? Also, side note, even though I’m rocking some hardcore RBF right there, I swear I’m actually pretty good with how my hair looks. Moving on now.
Can I just give folks the line, “girlfriends. Not even once” and move on? Is that satisfactory? No? It makes it sound like my girlfriend did this out of spite? Fine. Come on though, it’s not like I don’t have some history of making rash decisions regarding my hair on basically zero information. I legit shaved my head bald on nothing more than the prompt of a roommate asking if I wanted to. (That one was a big mistake though, still a good story though.)
So Here’s the basic timeline for how I ended up with purple dye in my hair. Honestly, it’s a pretty boring story. Basically, my girlfriend was dying her hair purple. Not like all of it, just like the bottom half, I guess, jeez this would be easier to explain if I just had a picture. Hold on a sec… Do I have one on my phone… No? wtf am I even trying as a boyfriend? Whatever.
Anyways she’s dying her hair and once she finishes up with it there’s a reasonable amount of dye leftover. Not a ton, but enough that it would feel wasteful to simply throw it out. At this point, Lindsay (the girlfriend) shoots me a look and with a reserved excitement asks, “Can I put it in your hair?”
Now, this next little bit takes place in about 5 seconds but takes a lot longer to explain because it involves a number of decisions that take place in my own mind. Just so you know and understand the impulsive nature of this whole thing.
When I’m asked questions like this there are two things I think about. The first is always, “What’s the worst that could happen?”. With dye involved the worst that can happen is actually pretty bad though. At least to some people. Really in my mind, the worst thing that could happen is that it looks just dreadful, in which case the solution to my problem is pretty simple, wear a hat. I’m already known to frequently wear baseball caps so it wouldn’t even be a stretch to just wear one every day. Sure it might get a little awkward at church but I’m dating someone from the same congregation as me every Sunday is already an awkward cringefest with every member of the bishopric asking me for updates so adding the awkward conversation about a hat seems an easy task. That being said that literally a worst case scenario and frankly its pretty unlikely so I’m confident at that point to proceed on the merits of “what’s the worst that could happen.”
The second question I always ask myself when making these sort of decisions is whether or not this will make a good story. I thought there was a reasonable chance and frankly, it’s up to you folks reading this blog post to decide if I was right about that. Either way, I thought the probability of this being a good story was high enough to proceed.
Remember all these thoughts happen in about 5 seconds.
“Sure, why not?” is what I opted for as my response. Boy, you wouldn’t believe how Lindsay’s face lit up when she heard that. Her excitement was only matched by her other roommate’s concern for my well-being. They must have thought I’d lost my bloody mind. Which is true, but like I lost it ages ago this is far from the event that confirmed my insanity.
Before we can get started with the dye though we need to solve the problem of my shirt. See I had apparently made the mistake of wearing a pretty nice shirt that day. Probably because I hadn’t realized that I would be dying my hair that day, but hey that’s my bad for not being able to see into the future. Luckily for me Lindsay’s roommate Abby had an old t-shirt that was just large enough to wrap around my neck to shield my nice button up. Oddly enough the colour of it matched pretty close to the shirt I was wearing so it looked like I had like a turtleneck on so now I also know that turtlenecks are an absolute no-go for me. Two birds one stone or something like that.
Pseudo-turtleneck in hand though I was now prepped for the dye, which Lindsay applied despite the fact that her roommate is a licensed cosmetologist. Still not 100% sure why it happened that way, but hey I’m not here to complain just tell stories. I was pretty convinced that the dye wasn’t even going to stick all that well anyways. It had been exposed for a pretty long time and absolutely nothing had been done to my hair to prepare it for dye. Literally, she just took the dye and painted (is that a good word for this? idk) the top of my head with it. So how likely was it for the dye to even stick? Pretty good as it turns out.
Half an hour later and things have settled and it’s time to give my hair a quick wash before revealing the final product. Minor snag though. The Branbury, the apartment complex me and Lindsay both live at, is BYU approved housing. Which means there are a few arbitrary rules that have to be followed. Like guys can’t use the bathrooms in girls apartments. (I KNOW ITS RIDICULOUS YOU DON’T HAVE TO TELL ME!) This means that in order to wash my hair out I have to lean over and use their kitchen sink. Perfect. So I’ve got my head in a kitchen sink and as I’m getting my hair washed out I’m seeing a lot of purples come out. Figures I think to myself, the dye didn’t stick, which is a shame but removes any fears I would’ve had about how it’ll look.
Nope. Turns out that really normal (I really know nothing about hair do I?) and a couple of minutes later I’m looking in the mirror at this freaking anime character that’s taken the place of myself. Oh well, now I can at least live out my fantasy of being an anime character, though the magic powers haven’t appeared yet which is straight bs. Also the huge freaking smile on Lindsay’s face when she saw my hair was pretty worth it as well. Not even to mention that it doesn’t even look all that bad. Maybe next time I’ll go all out and dye all my hair… Nah, that ish is expensive. Later!