When Kathy became a famous stylist, she never imagined that her fiancé would look down on her because of her profession. So when she had the opportunity to teach him a lesson, she took it.
My journey began at the age of 16 when life took a turn for the worse. My father left for Europe, abandoning us while my mother battled an illness. As the eldest child, I took on the responsibility and started working in a hair salon. Starting with mundane tasks like washing hair and sweeping, I worked my way up through the ranks through determination.
My skills developed and I established myself among the elite, becoming a sought-after hairdresser. It was in this context that I met Stan at a music festival, a world very different from mine with his Yale law degree. Despite my accomplishments, Stan sometimes forgets the intelligence my career requires. It was a journey of passion, hard work, and love, blending contrasting worlds in search of mutual respect.
As I reflected on our trip, I noticed a pattern of subtle put-downs from him, especially regarding my studies and my career as a hairdresser. These moments gradually built up, creating an underlying tension between us.
Our relationship, which had begun with such promise and understanding, began to show cracks when Stan’s offhand jokes about my work became a recurring theme. At first, I ignored them, attributing them to his sense of humor. However, over time, these comments seemed less like jokes and more like veiled criticism.
He often compared our educational backgrounds, emphasizing his Ivy League education and downplaying my personal success. In social settings, I noticed his reluctance to discuss my career, as if it were a topic unworthy of discussion among his academic peers.
Our engagement began to weigh on me. The ring he gave me reminded me of the wealth he possessed and the education that had helped him earn so much. Was I really just a hairdresser?
This growing tension came to a head at a dinner that I can only describe as the straw that broke the camel’s back. We were dining with a group of Stan’s friends from law school, a setting in which I already felt the tacit judgment of being the only non-academic in the room. The evening unfolded with typical conversations about legal theory and case studies, topics far removed from my everyday experiences but nonetheless interesting.
The turning point came when one of Stan’s friends, perhaps in an attempt to include me in the conversation, asked me my views on a current event. Before I could formulate a response, Stan interjected with a dismissive, “Don’t bother asking her; she’s just a hairdresser. She doesn’t care about that sort of thing, does she, honey?” His words, sharp and derogatory, echoed around the table, eliciting a mixture of awkward silences and forced laughter.
I was stunned, not only by the public humiliation, but also by the realization that the man I loved considered me less than nothing. My face flushed with embarrassment and anger, but I chose to keep my cool. In a calm, sarcastic retort, I said, “Okay, thanks, Stan, I’m so glad you made sure I didn’t embarrass you.” For the rest of the evening, I remained silent, my mind racing with thoughts and emotions.
Looking back on that night, I recognize that it marked a turning point in our relationship. It was a wake-up call that highlighted deeper issues we needed to address. Stan’s comment wasn’t just about that dinner; it symbolized his underlying attitude toward my profession and, by extension, toward me. It made me question our compatibility and whether mutual respect could ever be the foundation of our relationship.
Since that dinner, I have been thinking about our future together. It is clear that for our relationship to thrive, or even survive, we need to have serious conversations about respecting, understanding, and appreciating each other’s paths and contributions. The events of that evening have given rise to a stronger sense of self-worth and a determination to demand the respect I deserve, not only from Stan, but from everyone in my life.
After the dinner debacle, a fire lit inside me. The next day, at work, while doing a client’s hair, an idea began to take shape. I was determined to make Stan understand the value of my profession and make him regret his demeaning remarks.
During my break, I reached out to my clients, explaining my plan and asking for their help. To my delight, they all agreed, eager to support me. Most of the women whose hair I styled had been put down by men at some point in their lives, and so they were happy to fight back. I arranged a dinner—not just any dinner, but one that would reveal to Stan the true extent of my professional world.
I called Stan, playing it cool, as if everything was back to normal. He seemed relieved, thinking I had calmed down since we last met. I invited him to dinner, implying that it was a casual get-together with “a few of my friends.” He accepted without hesitation, unaware of what awaited him.
That night, I welcomed Stan into a room full of my clients: successful entrepreneurs, renowned artists, and influential figures I had met through my salon. As the evening wore on, Stan was visibly impressed and increasingly uncomfortable. The conversations around us highlighted not only the art of hairdressing, but also its impact on networking and business in high-profile circles.
Each story shared by my clients subtly highlighted the intelligence and sophistication required in my industry, challenging Stan’s preconceived notions. The highlight of the evening was when a prominent, well-known businesswoman publicly thanked me for my creativity and professionalism, attributing part of her social success to the confidence my work had inspired in her.
Stan was disconcerted to discover that Mrs. Williams, his boss, was one of my clients. “Honey, how do you know Mrs. Williams? She’s my boss. I should introduce myself, maybe this is a promotion opportunity,” he suddenly said. I put my arm around Stan and led him straight toward a group of women, including his boss.
“Hello ladies, I’ve been eager to introduce you to my fiancé. This is Stan. Please be nice to him; he’s an assistant and he tends to get a little anxious around powerful women, don’t you, sweetheart?” I said kindly.
Stan looked shocked and terrified. “No, no, I’m a Yale Law graduate, I’ve been working at your firm for two years, and I’m aiming to be a junior partner soon, and I…” he hesitated, and the women gave him an indulgent smile, as if he were a boastful child, before continuing their conversation.
Stan got angry. He pulled me aside. “How could you do this to me?” he fumed. “You made me look like an idiot, and I felt so embarrassed.”
“That hurts, doesn’t it? I just showed you the same treatment you gave me at dinner with your friends. These people are my friends and are just listening to what I say,” I told her confidently.
The women, my clients and friends, responded with indulgent smiles, treating him with a benign condescension that mirrored the way he had previously disparaged my career. This role reversal unnerved Stan and, later, infuriated him. He confronted me, feeling humiliated and exposed.
I calmly explained that this was a mirror image of what I had experienced at dinner with his friends. It was a lesson in empathy, a way for him to understand the impact of his words and actions. I clarified that my intention was not to belittle but to highlight the respect and recognition that everyone deserves, regardless of their profession.
When Stan called me a few days later to apologize through tears, I was pretty cold. I knew he meant well, but I couldn’t imagine building a future with a man who had thought so little of me for so long. After some thought, I gave him back the diamond ring he’d given me. We could start over, but I was going to rethink our engagement.