I’ve been hearing about this famous Abracadabra Hair Salon for the past few weeks. It’s all the rave in town. Apparently, they can do magic with your hair and style it to look exactly the same way as a celebrity of your choosing. If you want to look like a protagonist of your own story, you can! At least, that’s their catchphrase. So guess who went to the salon and got their hair done?

ME! YES! 

I told them I wanted to look like Emma Watson with those nice, long, big, waves. They told me they could do it - of course. So I asked them about the process while they were doing their stuff. It’s pretty cool actually. They use samples of your own hair to do extensions and the like, i.e., the magic part. But it has to be sampled from your original hair.

Anyway, it worked! My old, frizzy, thick hair is now gone! I must say I look awesome. I can’t stop staring at the mirror and running a hand through my silky smooth waves. It’s perfect for my upcoming dates! With this protagonist-perfect hair, I can win over any guy - be they the Harrys, Dracos, Toms, or Snapes of this world!

But my stylist told me to remember to upkeep this hair. There are ten steps I have to do every day after washing it. Even during washing, there’s a certain way in which I have to apply the shampoo, followed by the conditioner. I guess it’s going to take a long time since my hair is now touching my lower back. Oh well, the price of beauty right??

So I’m off to wash my hair and all the rest that comes with it! Wish me luck for my blind date tomorrow!

First date report: Okay but could be better!

I could tell the guy went to the same salon to get his hair done - it looked like a replica of Draco’s! From the color of the hair to the way it was styled, it was identical.

We were seated at a nice table outdoors because it was such a beautiful day. The sunset was perfect, throwing light on our features at exactly the right angle. There was a constant, strong breeze that somehow never blew away the tablecloths, even though there was nothing to weigh it down. 

So anyway, we talked. We laughed. He was charming with a devilish smile and yet he cowered at the sight of a cockroach. No matter. 

Our food came and the colors looked so surreal - like something out of an anime cooking show - that I had to poke it many times before I took a bite. It tasted fine, a little bland though. 

Now here came the problem. The breeze never died all that time. When we were talking, that was fine. I just had to push my hair behind my ears every three seconds. My date thought it was cute too. 

But now we were eating! I couldn’t cut my food with both hands while my hair flew all over the place! It was getting in the way of the knife, it was dipping into the sauce, it was tickling my date’s hand across the table. It got to a point where he told me to do something about it. And he sounded so irritated too.

My stylist had specifically instructed me not to tie it. Ever. Because it would ruin the curls. But I didn’t have a choice, so I reluctantly tied it up with a hairband that somehow made its way to my handbag. I wanted to cry, especially when I saw my date looking so frustrated. 

After that, he didn’t smile much. Maybe my protagonist-perfect hair had lost its charm after being tied up. As they say, your whole personality changes with your hair. It happens so many times in movies and dramas when the protagonist does something drastic to their hair and then the scene climaxes. But for me, it was a drop from heroine to ugly side character!

Oh well, I can’t possibly get it right the first time right? There’ll always be the next one. Although my agent said it’ll be a while before the next guy comes along. Maybe they’re all waiting to get their hair done. But I’ll wait patiently.

Second date report: Bad

This time, the guy had chosen Ron’s hairstyle. Don’t ask me why. Maybe they ran out of hairstyles to give him. Anyway, he was a decent guy. Not as charming as the previous one, but he was goofy and made me laugh.

We went to a movie, after I learned my lesson not to go for a meal with long hair. It was some cliche romantic comedy, so we didn’t need to pay much attention to what was happening. Instead, we paid more attention to where we placed our hands so we could make the maximum contact. 

First was to ensure the shared popcorn stayed between our seats so we could reach for it at the same time and our fingers would brush. After finishing that, that bowl was thrown aside so we could squish our elbows together on the seat rest. Then, the final move was to lean my head on his shoulder during some soppy, cringy scene.

He wrapped his arm around me and his head dropped to smell my hair. It’s been a week or so since I did my hair and even though I still washed it with the shampoo and conditioner, I hadn’t been applying it in the right direction for every strand of hair. My arm had ached terribly after the first three days of doing that! 

Then, he said, “That smells normal.”

Normal?? How could he say that after everything I went through to make sure my hair was the epitome of perfection?? Sure, I had skipped a few steps here and there - including half of the things I was supposed to do after washing. But could you blame a girl for trying to cut down the two hours she spent on her hair?

If that wasn’t enough, he stroked his fingers down my hair. And I could crawl in a hole and die because his fingers encountered resistance for every inch of hair. As the stylist had warned, my hair was reverting to its original state due to my lack of upkeep.

I immediately straightened, returning a major part of my body back to my seat. I didn’t want him to say more, especially since I saw him flicking a few strands of my hair out of his fingers. We parted ways amicably enough but I knew he was just being polite not to mention anything else.

I don’t know what to do anymore now that my hair is in such a terrible state. I’m not even sure I want to go on the last blind date but I have to, because my agent says “Three times is the charm”. Right, three times is the charm to undo my hair.

I’m going to bathe now. I no longer care about the ten steps and all those crap. I’m too tired to care.

You will not believe what just happened today! It was the third date - the final one that would make it or break it. By this time, my hair was an utter mess. The extensions had fallen out, so my hair was now more of a short bob cut. It was terribly curly and not silky smooth at all. 

I honestly didn’t expect anything to happen on this date. I went in with zero expectations - just wanted to eat my meal and get out. I didn’t even care much about the guy that came. I barely looked at him but I did notice his hair wasn’t perfect. It didn’t look well-maintained like the previous two and it reached up to his shoulder.

From the moment I saw him, I told him straight out that I didn’t care what he thought of me. And he dared to snap back that he didn’t care about what I had to say either! Well, that suited me just fine. So I got to eating my food, but it was then that I heard snickering from the other tables - somehow I couldn’t hear them before. Those bastards were commenting about how my hair was bad.

And then, they had the gall to mention that my date’s hair was equally bad and that we complemented each other! My anger had built up to the point that smoke literally poured out of my orifices. I slammed my fork down on the table so hard that I was surprised the glass below didn’t crack.

But before I could yell at those idiots, my date calmly placed his hand on top of mine and said, “I like your hair by the way. It’s like a bomb blast.”

I think my heart stopped beating at that. It was the nicest, kindest thing anyone had said to me about my hair. I almost cried in happiness but instead, the tears just blurred everything in sight. After that, we had a great talk and by the time we parted ways, we agreed to meet up again.

You know, I realized something. All these blind dates made me learn an important lesson.

Fuck those hairstyles you see on TV! Easily maintainable, tangled, hair rules!