The experiment

the-experiment

       Some women are insane. They can obsess over the most insignificant matters. I should know. I’m one of them. Fine, I’m both: woman and insane.

       My boyfriend decided to try a new look. A beard and mustache new look. He called it “an experiment”. Of course he’s entitled to, after all it is his face. But I don’t like it. And I told him that several times in the last week, as polite and cute as I could. But he’s still very delighted about „the experiment”, like a toddler that just discovered his toes, while I’m bothered and pouty.

       Wasn’t I supposed to love him unconditionally? said him. Oh, so that’s what „the experiment” was all about? I considered the idea for less than a moment. No, obviously not. Not everything he does has to be about me. But even if it was a test, I already flunked and he can shave now, said I full of hopes. Still no. And he added that he would loved me even if I’d shaved my head and dyed my skin purple. But that I don’t love him no matter what.

       Sure, in theory. Let me do that and see how you love me after, said I. He replied that that’s reality.

       My heart melted once more. Yeah, he does that. He very often quotes from his Perfect Boyfriend’s Answers manual or Taming the Pink Beast or something similar. Wish I could have the skill of saying or doing the right thing, at the right time, just like him.

       But I still didn’t get it. Why would someone very good looking try an untidy look? I even teased him about it, telling that if I liked him for his looks, why does he want to ruin that? And if he knows I’m shallow enough to care about the looks, why does he want to change his appearance that I liked in the first place? Is there a hidden message beneath that? He told me that I was taking the whole thing way too seriously and promised it’s just for fun.

       And as I felt an unwanted tension rising between us, I reminded myself of how I wasn’t very good at accepting things going differently from how I want them to and that I should use that very instant for practicing acceptance and the wise art of let go before causing any collateral damage, as I didn’t want to let such a trivial matter escalate unnecessarily.

       And right then he sent me a selfie from work while looking into a mirror, with his phone covering the mustache and part of the beard. That really made me giggle. My sweet, sweet darling. How easy it is for him to make me smile, no matter how miffed I am.

       He’s definitely a keeper! And I’m grateful for having him into my life, with or without the extra facial hair. I should allow the man be the man. Be himself. His wonderful self. Not that my permission is required. And if I can’t be more supportive during his experiment, I could at least try not to make an issue out of it. It is nevertheless a fad, a passing fad. Why not wait patiently to pass then?

       A day has gone by and I was really proud of my decision of not bother my baby any further about the way he felt to express himself those days. Another day was starting and I was just waking up when I had the surprise to see my beautiful baby shaved and more kissable than ever. Oh, how the Universe repay the fair resolutions!

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