My partner uses to be ... infuriating. He is highly talented In all fields. But he is especially infuriating. I can cope with him. With all his skills. With all his failings. I am not about to remind you of them. He is incredibly stubborn. Self-composed (too). Self-controlled (too). Distant. Aloof. Prickly. Sorry... that's a paralipsis. I can't help.
He is my closest friend. I can cope with him. He can cope with me. I trust him. He trusts me. A true, deep friendship. And more. He is family. I can cope with him. With all his skills. All his failings.
All ? No.
There is... one thing.
That's fine, supple, smooth, soft. Am I repeating myself ?
That's silky ( sorry...).
That's fair, blond.
That's too long. Sometimes.
His hair.
You have surely noticed that. I have.
He can be like a drowned rat, covered with sweat, dust, mud, whatever you want. One minute later, those damned hairs are dry, silky and look nice.
He sleeps, he fights, he rolls, he hangs down. One minute later, those damned hairs are nicely combed.
He puts on a hat, a fur hat, a chef' hat, a cap, a bonnet, a turban, a wig... Whatever you can think about : he likes to dress up. He is dishevelled. One minute later, those damned hairs...
You could think that I am jealous, er... obsessed. I am not. Not really. Well. A little, anyway.
No hair cream, no hair gel, no hair lacquer for him. You see what I mean ?
Those damned hairs... People look at them, and are eager to touch them. To play with them. To stroke them. Eventually, they'll be nicely combed. And those who dared will be dead. Probably.