Breaking Up Is Hard to Do:

How many times have we said we were going to do it?  How many horrific multi-color hair dyes or semi-buzz cuts, bangs gone badly do we have to endure?  How many times have you called your sister, best friend, mother, husband in tears or anger and a tad of confusion?  How many times have you said, “This was the last one”?  “They suck at cutting/coloring my hair.”  But you tipped them 20 percent? You let them break out the clippers as you sat there wondering when they were going to stop snipping.  My sister T recently had this common experience.  She told me she sat in that swiveling leather chair and watched (in the gold gilded mirror) in horror as the stylist broke out the clippers.  T said she was like whoa what are you doing?  So, I asked T what the stylist said back. T said, “Oh, no, I said that to myself.” 

Now, you have to understand that she was freaking out on the phone about how horrific her hair was and how she should have a rainbow sticker on her license plate.  She said she could cry and it was the worse cut she has ever had.  T has short hair so those of you with short hair may realize that this is a big statement. (It is hard to get a good short hair cut.) 

But, I understood…I mean, I myself can think back to a recent visit to my massage place. I was on the table and the man was digging his elbow into some nerve so far into my shoulder blade, that I thought he’d punctured a lung.  When he asked if “the pressure was ok”, I caught my breath and strained to produce a relaxed sounding “yes it is perfect”. 

Think about it…I am paying this guy somewhere ranging $50-$100 bucks plus the tip.  To do what, dislocate my shoulder blade from my muscle?  Why?  Why am I not saying something?  If I do will he get pissed?  I mean I know better than to say ANYTHING to a waitress or cook.  NEVER!  I worked in the industry.  I know what could happen to sent back food. But how many times have you sat at across from your husband or friend or significant other and said this steak, salad, drink, sandwich sucks…and then two seconds later the waiter arrives and asks “How is everything?”  Just so you can say it’s awesome.

Why do we do this?  I want to see your comments (I know logging in sucks but why not!) or your thoughts on this odd human behavior - this behavior to please at our own expense both literally and figuratively.  Help us sort out this Suburbia politeness…or political-ness or is it fear and, if so, fear of what? 

I asked T what she was going to do and she said I am going to have to break up with her.  She was lamenting the past 6 years of bi-monthly 2 hour chats.  But she could no longer take the risk-the risk of the bad cut.  I asked why not just never go back?  And T said absolutely not, I would never do that, but breaking up is hard to do…