I’ve been toying with a life-altering decision as of late — whether or not to grow out my bangs. Serious stuff, I know. Fact is, I’m bored with my hair and am needing a change. So naturally, like any woman who knows her husband couldn’t give a crap about what she does with her hair, I asked Mikey what he thought.
Me: Do you think I should grow out my bangs?
Mikey: I don’t know. I’ve never seen you without bangs.
Let’s see here. Mikey and I have been in a relationship for the past nine years. I did not have bangs when I first met him in his dorm room at St. Louis University in August 2002. I did not have bangs when he brought me home to meet his parents for the first time on New Year’s Eve 2002. I did not have bangs when we went on our first vacation together to South Padre Island in 2003. I did not have bangs when we both graduated from college in 2006. I did not have bangs when he proposed to me on that cool Spring day in March 2007. And I did not have bangs when I married him in front of 200-some people in October 2008.
Me: Mikey! I’ve only had bangs for three out of the nine years we’ve been together!
Mikey: Oh. Well, I don’t care. Do what you want!
Ahh, to be married and in love and so completely head over heels for each other that you can’t even remember what kind of hairstyle your significant other is rocking this decade. That’s true love, my friends. That’s true love.