A DAY IN THE LIFE
(of the comb-over)
Many of you have asked for an update, or summary, about life with a comb over. I thought the easiest format might be: a kind-of recap of the average day, along with some lessons I learned about having a comb over.
MORNING: I wake up, enter the kitchen, smiling wide as I make eye contact with Jessica. Her eyes immediately shut. Her entire face furrows as though she just saw a man run over a family of ducks. Entrances are awkward, with the comb over (LESSON #1). You forget that others are seeing it for the first time. Having a combover is a bit like being seven feet tall or a black man in China, in that you enter a room and everyone is staring, but you forget why.
"Euuuggggg". Her first words of the day. Oh, I realize: she is reacting to my hair. "What?- I think it's getting better", I answer while walking into the bathroom. Then I see it.
A comb over is a lot of work (#2). It is probably the most high-maintenance haircut a man can have. Throughout the day, you must gel-down your hair, else you start to appear like a mad scientist. Additionally, if your comb over is self-imposed (as mine was), you must shave the center of your head daily, else that hair grows back and, instead of looking bald, you look like a man who is recovering from an odd, but very major, brain surgery.
"The guys at the bar thought it was great" (me)
"That's because you hang out with idiots" (Jessica)
I put on baseball cap to cool Jessica down.
(she makes me wear a hat at all times in the house... she will even ask if I'm wearing a hat, before entering a room that I occupy... as though I'm 19th century debutante who can't be seen in the wrong clothes).
"I can't believe I'm wearing a baseball cap at this hour... I mean, I'm 32 years old"
"Yeah", Jessica starts sarcastically, "THAT'S WHY you look ridiculous- the hat".
BREAKFAST: I'm dressed in a pink robe and LA Dodgers baseball cap, eating pancakes. Jessica keeps shaking her head ‘no', silently.
"Babe, in the grand scheme of things, this isn't that bad" (me)
"Yes it is, Sean. In fact... "I would have rathered you had an affair." (Jessica)
Jessica hates the combover most in the mornings. Women are powerfully in tune with the very start and the very end of a day (#3). They like to hear rain dancing against the window as their final sounds of a day, and birds singing as their first. Thus, when you insert a combover into this cycle -as their first and last sight of the day- they become discombobulated. Enraged. It is very nearly like living at a different latitude for them; in a place where the days and nights don't end.
TRAIN: I am seated alone (in a packed car), working comfortably on my laptop.The Combover is THE haircut for commuting (#4). No one ever sits next to you, and beggars and crazy preachers skip you. Like riding The Orient Express, each day to work.
I exit the train and order a large coffee, black, at the food court. They screwup the order and, even though I am laughing about it, they apologize profusely and insist I take two free muffins. People assume you have a short fuze, when you have a combover (#5). This creates better service at low-end, retail places since they don't want to deal with you asking for a manager or threatening to call corporate headquarters. But it creates worse service at high-end places since they assume you will only order cheap items and tip poorly.
I leave the court, passing by one of the security guards. He's been on vacation in Florida and hasn't seen me in two weeks: "You feeling OK?", he asks; unable to pinpoint why I suddenly look 20 years older to him. People grossly overestimate your age with a combover (#6).
"I'D COMPLAIN, FRIEND, BUT NO ONE WOULD LISTEN!!"
I laugh and salute him. Since having the combover, nothing gives me more joy than shouting bad, middle-aged white guy jokes (#7).
OFFICE: I put a nice, black fedora on before entering because my boss left a voice mail earlier this morning -"Hey can you please wear a hat today"- that probably means some one important is visiting.
A secretary jokes that I look like a reporter from the 1950s (it's hard to pull off the fedora at work- #8). I play along, yelling back, in that 1930s gangster voice: "yeeaaah, you seeeee, I'm here for the straight dope!!".
She laughs way too hard at my response. I later learn it's because the stranger seated next to her is our new Office Director. His first impression of me is:
* arrives at 11 AM
* wears ridiculous hats
* doesn't understand the difference between reporters and gangsters
You never get a second chance to make a first impression- and you need at least eight chances with a combover (#9)
LUNCH: Jessica is going to join me for lunch. She calls from the security desk to verify that I have a hat on, before she enters the building. We then walk to the food court and have a nice lunch together, until I take off my hat for a moment to scratch my head:
"EEEEGGGGG, God"
"Oh.. Sorry" (I put the hat back on)
"How much longer are you going to have this?"
"I thought it would be kind of fun to have it for the delivery"
"WHAAT!!!!" (she's only 3 months pregnant at this time)
"Yeah. Ya know how dads always has funny haircuts in old, childhood photographs? I thought it would be kind of fun to have a combover, in the first set of pictures. It will be hilarious when we look back at the photos."
"You will not be allowed in my delivery room with that haircut"
Jessica is silently shaking her head ‘no' again, as we throw away our trash. Her earlier line -"I would rather you have an affair"- is not an exaggeration. You see,the combover is inextricably associated associated with, and leads to conjecture about, your wife (#10). Here again, having a combover is a bit like being seven feet tall in that, once people see you, the first thing they check for is: a wedding ring. And, if they find it, they have as many questions for your wife, as they have for you. Why do you tolerate this? Does he sleep on the coach? Is he joking?
Jessica: "It needs to come off by next week, Sean. We have Kate and Jason's wedding. I can't show up to that wedding with you having a combover."
Me: "I was going to wear a tophat"
FINAL LESSON: no one enjoys the top hat any more.
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(For those who want an abbreviated version)
LESSONS:
* Entrances are awkward
* A comb over is a lot of work
* Women are powerfully in tune with the very start and very end of a day
* The Combover is THE haircut for commuting
* People assume you have a short fuze
* Your age is grossly overestimated
* First impressions are very important
* It's hard to pull off the fedora
* Strangers wonder about (and empathize with) your wife
* No one takes the tophat seriously
or, in a sentence:
having a combover is a lot like being seven feet tall