He came home from the local salon with his hair looking better than I’d ever seen it. You didn’t have to be a hairdresser to see this was a great cut. And the salon was close enough to get to on foot. And they have a fireplace and serve you lattes. This was getting very tempting, but I think of myself as someone who is not easily seduced. I was wrong.

It only took me a few days to make my appointment. This was my first venture to a new salon since 2002, when I first let Christopher take scissors to my strands. I didn’t think anyone else could do a better job, because up to that point no one had. Getting to Christopher’s salon had become quite the trek since I relocated from the city to the burbs. Now, a salon appointment involved nearly an hour’s drive both ways. But it was worth it, or at least that’s what I kept telling myself. Besides, Christopher always has a glass of red wine for me, and the latest gossip (he being a swinging single and me being happily settled).

But I just couldn’t resist trying this new salon, after all, the goal is great looking hair and vanity often has no boundaries. I think I was more nervous than a teenager on a first date, which I was certain the assistant could tell by the way I gripped the shampoo chair, not quite ready to make my way to the stylist’s seat for the snipping to begin. I needn’t have worried or felt so guilty: Sarah, my new stylist, who I was soon to become devoted to, was energetic, eager, and full of ideas. She spent an hour cutting and styling my hair, being precise and reassuring the entire time. I loved the cut. It was perfect in every way but the styling clinched it. Christopher never styled my hair in a manner I really liked. But he cut my hair well, so I let it go, reasoning I was being too fussy. Sarah got it right, and without any guidance from me. In fact, I didn’t have plans for afterwards but felt compelled to make some, just to show off my new haircut!

The real moment of truth came when I went in to see Christopher for highlights a few weeks later. He knew something was up—but he liked my hair. I expected to come off as sheepish but instead said with an authoritative tone I was now seeing someone else for haircuts. I was surprised at my own conviction. Christopher will remain my go-to guy for color (Sarah specializes in cutting). It turned out to be a great division of duties, though I did have to convey to Christopher my anxiety over seeing someone new, which stroked his ego a bit (always very important to do before someone applies bleach to your hair).

Despite my anxiety, I discovered that having a monogamous relationship with your hairstylist doesn’t always work to your advantage. And it’s reassuring to know that my neighborhood salon is every bit as good as my big city standby!