I decided to cheat on my stylist Dwight. For a $150 savings, you can call me a hair whore. I needed something new and Dwight, as much as I love my Dwighty, couldn't off himself up to me for $150 less. hmmm does that make him the hair whore and I'm the hair John? Anyway, I went to Patrick Evans Salon barely around the corner from Stephen Saiz Salon. And as I had feared that it's nary a block away, I might be spied going into this Salon, however like a lover who wants to get caught, he found out the old-fashioned way - he read my posting on Facebook. I could tell the hurt in his reply, "What?" and then the sad emoticon. I cheated on him - I went to another salon - and I got caught.
So the colorist/chemicalist, spent the next two hours painting and frying my hair into submission like a hair dominatrix. She blew me out and flat-ironed me to a pulp. I walked out of that salon with a whole new outlook on life, and my hair. I felt so good about myself I walked across the street, hair flipping in the breeze to the Ted Baker store to see my old pole dancer/sales assistant, Storm. Sadly, Storm left TB and moved onto the greener pastures of Barney's (c'est la vie).
So although infidelity didn't feel good when I got caught, the thrill of the prize was worth it in the end. I may have been a hair-John, but my wallet and ego were pumped by my decision (see no so great self-taken pic)
