It turns out Rich has another string to his bow that I was unaware of: he can cut hair and even used to cut his Mum’s and Sister’s, so I thought as my hair was getting long I’d save some money and let him loose; if they had trusted him then I would too. Trouble is now I have a haircut reminiscent of Bryan Adams circa 1991 and I’m questioning what sort of ideal image my boyfriend has in mind for me and what sort of fantasy role he’d like me to fulfill.
I’ve always known Rich has a thing for rugged, hairy, beefy guys and I can see a bit of a bear cub in the making in him, so I had always imagined that Rich would like to see more of that in me and whether subconsciously or not I have been attempting to bulk up and even go the odd day without shaving. But after getting my new boyish cut – which Rich says he much prefers – I must assume that he goes for the guy-next-door thing when it comes to his partner; maybe the muscle bear thing is too exotic for everyday life.
I have never really fallen into a particular category when it comes to the way I look, but I’d like to think I look quite trendy without being a label snob and have never dipped more than a toe into any look that’s more extreme than that. So maybe I am quite boy-next-door – or man-next-door, I should say – and if I think back I did have a bit of a cute haircut when I first met Rich, so maybe that was part of the appeal.
It’s interesting because I met a rather fun, lively, very tomboyish young girl at a party on Saturday night after Rich had cut my hair and she had a virtually identical crop cut! She explained that due to a bad and stressfull week at work she’d decided to cheer herself up by taking a pair of scissors to her long, blond locks. The problem is that her boyfriend hates it, says she looks like a boy and they haven’t had sex for a week. I complimented her on this new look and I thought she looked pretty sexy, but it’s another example of how the way we visualise ourselves can be so different from how our partner would like to.
Come a hair cropper
It turns out Rich has another string to his bow that I was unaware of: he can cut hair and even used to cut his Mum’s and Sister’s, so I thought as my hair was getting long I’d save some money and let him loose; if they had trusted him then I would too. Trouble is now I have a haircut reminiscent of Bryan Adams circa 1991 and I’m questioning what sort of ideal image my boyfriend has in mind for me and what sort of fantasy role he’d like me to fulfill.
I’ve always known Rich has a thing for rugged, hairy, beefy guys and I can see a bit of a bear cub in the making in him, so I had always imagined that Rich would like to see more of that in me and whether subconsciously or not I have been attempting to bulk up and even go the odd day without shaving. But after getting my new boyish cut – which Rich says he much prefers – I must assume that he goes for the guy-next-door thing when it comes to his partner; maybe the muscle bear thing is too exotic for everyday life.
I have never really fallen into a particular category when it comes to the way I look, but I’d like to think I look quite trendy without being a label snob and have never dipped more than a toe into any look that’s more extreme than that. So maybe I am quite boy-next-door – or man-next-door, I should say – and if I think back I did have a bit of a cute haircut when I first met Rich, so maybe that was part of the appeal.
It’s interesting because I met a rather fun, lively, very tomboyish young girl at a party on Saturday night after Rich had cut my hair and she had a virtually identical crop cut! She explained that due to a bad and stressfull week at work she’d decided to cheer herself up by taking a pair of scissors to her long, blond locks. The problem is that her boyfriend hates it, says she looks like a boy and they haven’t had sex for a week. I complimented her on this new look and I thought she looked pretty sexy, but it’s another example of how the way we visualise ourselves can be so different from how our partner would like to.