Juan: The Hair-loving Hair Hater

I once told this person I had no plans to put him on the blog, but when things turned uber south, he specifically said, 12 year old style, "Fine. I hope you put me on your stupid blog, too."

Well... I only aim to please.

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It all began when a certain friend gave Juan my phone number...because he was bored.  This resulted in multiple text messages before asking me to dinner.  

Dinner, partly due to a failure by the host, began awkwardly.  We were led to a table that was intended to seat about nine people.  I sat down first on one side of the table, after which he sat down... at the opposite end of the gigantic table.  Naturally, all I could do is scooch all the way around to his side like a moron.

The conversation was focused primarily on what he was doing for work, his goals for the future (including how many cars he would have and the live-in maid he would get,) and how he was trying to learn to be more proper...including table manners.  At one point, I used a clean napkin to wipe up a puddle of water the waitress had left by my glass.  He stopped mid-sentence to say, "Um... Don't bus your own table."  Evidently I was to continue my meal, ignoring the lake on the table beside me.

A few days later, he came over to watch movies with some friends.  He sat on the LoveSac next to me and asked if he could play with my hair.  He did. For an hour.  Then he asked if we could trade places because that arm was getting tired. So we did. And he played with it for the next hour.  When we put in another movie, I specifically moved to a couch without an empty seat next to it and laid my head on the arm.  He somehow managed to find a spot on another couch that would allow him to reach across the gap to my head... and play with my hair for two more hours.  

I had to wash it three times to get the grease out.

During our brief acquaintance, there were a few conversations that were a little off-putting.  One day he texted me to ask what was I was doing.  I happened to be at the gym at the time.  When I told him this, he said, "Oh, good! Do you plan to go to the gym every day when you're married?" Uhmmm... I responded that although I plan to remain active, at some point my primary focus would be my family.  He responded,
"Well, my wife will need to make working out a priority." 
It's the least she can do if he's providing her with a home and grocery money.  Duly noted.

Side note: For someone who feels working out is so important, his detestation for sweat is abnormally high.  He likes to run ten miles at a time, but makes sure he drinks no water before beginning in order to avoid sweating, because that would be disgusting.  As one who understands the biology the body, I submit that purposefully dehydrating oneself before that level of exertion is disgusting. To each his own, I suppose.

On another occasion, someone made a comment that they had forgotten to shave their legs.  He turned to me and said,

 "Ugh. That's disgusting. The first thing I'm doing the next time I get married is having my wife completely lasered."  

When I mentioned how selfish and shallow that sounded, he tried to defend it by saying it would be only for her convenience, but later admitted that his intentions weren't quite so sincere.

After several childish conversations, it was finally agreed (I was certain of this very early on) that I would not be his next super-fit, hair-free wife. Though I wouldn't mind the free gym membership...