Thought 26MAY2009

A-HEAD OF THE GAME
A friend of mine had been suffering from a lack of self-confidence after a particularly difficult breakup. He was a bit wary of returning to the dating world, worried that he had "lost his touch" with women. Unfortunately, soon after ending his previous relationship, he began to lose his hair, and he saw this as a sign from above that he was doomed to be alone forever. "Who the heck is going to want to date some bald guy?" he said to me one night as we commiserated over large yummy cups of cappuccino. The eternal wit, he was convinced that good hair was the ticket to a successful relationship. "What will she run her fingers through now?" he exclaimed discouragingly. "My scalp?" As he started asking women out, he only took them to locations where a baseball cap was acceptable - playing Frisbee in the park, walking the dog, a baseball game or any other faintly sporty event where he could successfully hide his thinning top. This worked out fine for a while, but there are only so many sporting events to go to, and only so many sunny days to toss the Frisbee and walk the dog.

Also, one huge aspect of my friend's personality was that he absolutely loved going out for a nice dinner. We had enjoyed many nights in college spending too much money on bottles of wine, hors d'oeuvres and warm chocolatey desserts at the most upscale restaurants. Unfortunately, none of these restaurants would allow a baseball cap, no matter how nice it may be. This started to discourage him and again his spirits dropped, until he received notification in the mail that he had won a free dinner for two at an exclusive restaurant downtown.

"Congratulations!" the letter read. "You and a guest have been chosen to sample and savor our elegant cuisine and ambiance. Please find the enclosed gift certificate for fifty dollars!" He was thrilled. Jumping up and down with enthusiasm, he thought out loud about what to wear, what to order, when to go, and...uh oh...who to take. He couldn't wear a hat into this new restaurant. But who could he take who wouldn't be shocked by his barely covered head? His brow furrowed in disappointment and he collapsed on the nearby couch. After a few minutes of silence, he shouted out, "Aw, phooey. I'm going." Leaping from his seat, his face took on that all-too-familiar glow and he quickly breezed through his index of possible dates, finally landing on Sarah, the woman whom he had been admiring from afar for months. He sat down in his favorite chair, dialed her number confidently and asked her to accompany him - and she gratefully accepted. A few nights later, dressed to the nines and beautifully bareheaded, he and Sarah shared a perfect evening and have been wonderfully in love ever since. And I'll tell you this: That was the best fifty dollars I've spent in a long time.
By Katie Mauro - from Chicken Soup for the Single's Soul, Copyright 1999 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Jennifer Read Hawthorne and Marci Shimoff
A bad wound may heal, but a bad name will kill - Scottish Proverb