Things went wrong for me when I was sixteen years old. Unfortunately, my mum was sick when my dad left us and went to Europe. Since I was the oldest, I took on more responsibility and jumped at the chance to work at the closest hair shop. With sheer determination, I began with small tasks like cleaning and washing hair and worked my way up.
As I got better, I was in high demand as a hairdresser and made a name for myself among the elite. During all of this, I met Stan at a music event. He was different from me because he went to Yale Law School. Stan doesn’t always understand how smart I need to be to do my job, even though I’ve done a lot of good things. It’s been an exciting journey full of love, passion, and people from different backgrounds coming together to accept each other.
When I think about our time together, I remember that he often said nice things about my training and hairstyling business. As these things have gone on, there’s been more and more tension between us.
At first, Stan’s jokes about my work started to show signs of weakness in our relationship, which had been so understanding and full of potential. At first, I didn’t pay attention to them because I thought they were just part of his humour. But as time went on, these comments started to sound less like jokes and more like subtle criticism.
He would often compare our educational experiences, putting more emphasis on his Ivy League schooling and less on my hard work-based accomplishments. It seemed like he didn’t want to talk about my job with his intellectual friends when they were out, like it was a taboo subject.
I began to feel bad about our proposal. The ring he gave me always reminded me of how rich he was and how well he did in school, which made him so successful. When I cut hair, was I really that simple?
I think that dinner was the last straw that broke the camel’s back because it was the last thing that made things worse. Stan’s law school friends were over for dinner, and I could feel the subtle criticism that comes with being the only person in the group who wasn’t a scholar right away. As the night went on, we talked about typical legal topics like case studies and ideas, which were interesting but not at all related to my daily life.
When one of Stan’s friends asked me what I thought about a recent event, maybe to get me involved in the conversation, that was the turning point. I was about to answer when Stan cut me off and said, “Don’t bother asking her; she’s just a hairdresser.” Honey, you do know that she’s not interested in this kind of thing, right? The cutting and degrading things he said were met with awkward silences and forced laughs as they went around the table.
I was shocked when I found out that the man I loved thought less of me and when I was blushed in public. Even though I felt ashamed and angry, I tried to stay cool. “Okay, thanks, Stan. I’m glad you made sure I didn’t make you look bad,” I said with a mocking tone. I didn’t say a word the rest of the night because my mind was full of thoughts and feelings.
When I think about that night, I remember how our relationship changed. It woke people up and brought to light long-standing problems that needed to be fixed. Stan’s comment about that dinner was more than that; it showed how he felt about my job and, more significantly, about me. It made me wonder if we were a good match and if our relationship could ever be based on respect for each other.
My mind has been on our future together since that night. We need to have serious talks about how to accept, appreciate, and understand each other’s paths and contributions if we want our partnership to work—or even just stay together. The events of that night have made me feel more valuable and have inspired me to expect respect from everyone in my life, not just Stan.
After the dinner mess, something inside me lit on fire. A thought began to form while I was doing a client’s hair the next day. I was determined to show Stan how important my job was and make him feel bad about what he said about it.
My clients and I talked during my break. I told them about my plan and asked for their help. All of them agreed and were ready to help me, which made me happy. While I was styling women, most of them were glad to get back at guys who had made fun of them in the past. I planned a dinner—not just any dinner, but one that would show Stan my whole business.
I called Stan without any big plans, as if everything were fine again. He seemed glad that I had calmed down since our last conversation. We could have dinner together, like a get-together with “some of my friends.” He readily agreed, even though he had no idea what was in store for him.
In the evening, I led Stan into a room full of my clients, who were wealthy business owners, famous artists, and important people I had met through my salon. Stan was definitely impressed, but as the night went on, he became more tense. Conversations going on around us stressed how important hairstyling is as an art form and for business and networking in the elite groups.
Stan’s ideas were tested by each of my clients’ stories, which showed him in a subtle way how smart and skilled I need to be to do my job. One of the best parts of the night was when a famous businessman openly praised my creativity and skill, saying that my work had helped him become successful in social circles.
Stan was shocked to find out that one of my clients was Mrs. Williams, his boss. “Wife, tell me about Mrs. Williams.” I do work for her. He said quickly, “I need to introduce myself; this could be my chance to move up.” I walked Stan right up to a group of women, which included his boss, while putting my arm around him.
“Hello, ladies!” I’m excited to tell you about my fiancé. Let’s meet Stan. Please be nice to him, sweetheart. He’s an assistant and gets nervous around strong women. I spoke in a lovely voice.
Stan seemed scared and oddly surprised. As they talked, the women gave him a smug smirk as if he were a cocky kid. He paused and then said, “No, no, I am a Yale Law graduate, I’ve worked at your firm for two years, and I’m hoping to become a junior partner soon, and I—”
Stan got very angry. He took a step back. “How could you do this to me?” he yelled. “Thanks to you, I looked like a fool and felt so bad about it.”
You think it hurts? I just dealt with you the same way you dealt with me when we were out to dinner with your friends. “They hear what I have to say because they are my friends,” I told him.
The women, who were my clients and friends, smiled back, acting in a condescending way that reminded me of how he had put down my work years before. Stan was shocked by this switch of roles and became very angry afterward. He turned to face me because he felt open and bad about himself.
I told him in a calm voice that this was exactly what had happened to me while I was eating with his friends. It taught him sensitivity and helped him understand the effects of what he said and did. It was very clear that my goal was to emphasise, not downplay, the right to decency and respect that everyone has, no matter what they do for a living.
Stan apologised very much over the phone a few days later, but I wasn’t really moved by it. Even though I believed he meant well, I couldn’t picture a future with someone who had been so mean to me for so long.
After giving it some thought, I gave him the diamond ring he had given me. I was going to change my mind about getting married, but we could start over.
