An Affair to Remember…

My affair with Lee Stafford started like all the great romances…
Hushed phone calls, a secret assignation on a steamy April afternoon, cocktails, small talk and before I knew what was happening, his hands were in my hair and I’d lost all my senses.

An hour and a half later, after we’d listened to a few CDs (White Stripes for me, Ray LaMontagne for him), planned our dream holiday to Dubai, talked about loading his many, many CDs onto an iPod post-haste and debated the merits of Miami over New York, I realised it was time to go. He could never be mine, not truly, not mine alone and I had commitments and responsibilities elsewhere.

Yes, I was leaving but I was leaving as a new woman.
A woman with a fringe.

Oh, the reality fairy is asking that I make a couple of points clear:

1. I am not having an affair with Lee Stafford but I was amazingly lucky enough to have him cut my hair this week. Looks like all that stalking paid off…

2. At no point during the orgy of snipping were we alone. His rather fabulous PR-come-Cocktail Mixologist was present at all times.

3. My hair looks amazing. Lee asked if I was looking for an ‘Evolution’ or a ‘Revolution’ and since Jonny had done an amazing job last time (I’m such a heartless cheater – don’t worry honey, I’ll be back) I opted for an ‘Evolution’ but would never ever have given myself a fringe. Not since my pageboy jobby at the age of seven have I endured a full fringe.

4. Therefore, Lee Stafford = genius because it actually looks really good. a Bit Debbie Harry crossed with Karen O and Chrissie Hynde. Oooh. I actually look like I have twice as much hair. So good, I’ll even post a picture when I find one that does his loveliness justice.

But sadly, the moral to this sordid tale is:
Affairs can never last. They’re all dizzy highs and crashing lows, like when Lee told me he was going to see Dirty Dancing the Musical (yes!) but that he was going with another woman (no!).

So I might never see Lee again. Sure, I’ll see his twinkly eyes and winning smile on Richard Judy, I might even pass by his window and catch a glimpse of him eating one of his Dad’s sausages, gazing out over London, but we’ll never be able to recreate that perfect balmy afternoon in April.

And I’ll be damned if I’ll be able to keep this bloody fringe out of my eyes while I’m typing…
Love it though I do…http://0

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