Hairdryer Collection

I have this theory that there are a bunch of single men all around the world who collect hairdryers. No, they don’t it as a sort of hobby (or maybe they do), by going around and buying every single model that ever existed in the market starting from the first one invented by Alexandre Godefoy in 1890. Now what is really traumatizing is that the first actual hairdryer was... believe it or not, a bloody vacuum cleaner. For some reason known only to all the mad women from long ago, they dried their hair by connecting a hose to the exhaust of their vacuum cleaners. Apparently early models of the electrical ‘suck machine’ were designed to suck air in through the front and blow air out through the back. Moreover the hose could be attached to either end.



My theory requires a bit more complexity that just having men running out to buy the latest Phillips 50,000 volt dryer to add to their glass cabinets. Over the last 18 months I have managed to unwittingly donate not 1 but 3, yes THREE, hairdryers to the men I have dated. The first one is with D. Okay granted, I called the split after 4 years of togetherness and all other manner of relationship nonsense and he never returned any of my things, including my favourite Sunday dress and my weekend Louis Vuitton purse. Meh. The hairdryer that was sacrificed to him was one I purchased from Takashimaya because I had shopping vouchers and didn’t know what else to buy. In the interest of protecting my mane (have you seen the length of my hair?), I decided to buy a hairdryer. In fact I bought two. One for my own place and the other to be kept at D’s apartment because I spent a considerable amount of time there. Really, I was like some orphan shuttling up and down between my flat and his every week. Either way, it had got to a point where I was sick and tired of using the small little dryer that his previous ex had left behind and decided to grab the hair by the horns and buy a hairdryer (2,000 volts me thinks), that allowed me to dry my hair in 15 minutes as opposed to the usual 45. Seriously, small hairdryer and my hair = looking like cast member of the Lion King.

In any case, considering that D’s previous ex’s hairdryer was still in his apartment, I should have cottoned on to the fact that something was amiss or at least figured out that there was a hypothesis waiting to be tested out there.

Hypothesis:
Single man with hairdryer = Potential for more hairdryers to be accumulated as a result of other failed relationships

I didn’t realise the potential of this hypothesis until I dated Spooner last year. Now, the man lives up a freaking hill. Just heading down to the supermarket to get some beers and walking back up the blasted slope left me sweating like a rapist. And given that I wash my hair everyday (no it hasn’t fallen out, and it won’t, again, have you seen my hair?!), the idea of not being able to rinse it out of all that muck and sweat left me very, very grumpy. Ironically, he too had a hairdryer in his apartment, only his belonged to his mother and not some random woman he had shagged in the past. It was a good hairdryer too. Only problem is, his mother had brought it in from the UK when she had come to visit and the freaking plug would not fit into the local electrical wall sockets. Given that I am not prone to running around with a universal adapter in my handbag, I couldn’t use the bleeding piece of machinery. What did I do? I went in search of hairdryer. Duh. After investing 80 dollars, I had a spanking new Rowenta to deal with my rug. Hallelujah. Joy to the world. My hair is saved!

And then we split up.

The fucker never returned my stuff and definitely did not return my hairdryer. So technically, he too now has two hairdryers lying around in his apartment. Wanker. Stupid git. Toad jizz.

Well I should have figured something was up by now right? No I didn’t. My hypothesis was being tested right under my very nose and I was none the wiser. I can be a bit slow off the mark at times, I do admit.

So now we come to the present day situation. Despite the brevity of our relationship, AJ and I spent a lot of time together. This meant me monging at his place during the weekends and even going to work on Mondays from his. Yes, it was one of those romances where two people could spend more than 72 hours with each other and not want to throw the other person passing under a passing bus. I distinctly remember this conversation one weekend.

Me: I have to tell you something.
AJ: Er... what?
Me: I need a hairdryer.
AJ: I’ve got one. But it’s a bit wonky. It was my ex’s.
Me: Okay, I need a proper one.
AJ: I know. You have a mane hun. No worries, let’s go get one later.

And so we did. We went out and got a hairdryer. Again, I totally missed the sign blaring in front of my face. Single man has hairdryer. Said dryer belongs to ex. *WARNING! WARNING!*

When we called it quits, the man arrived with a COLD STORAGE plastic bag full of my stuff – a dress, a toothbrush, a roll of deodorant, a weekend purse, my flip-flops and conveniently forgot my hairdryer. Nevermind.

Given that I had to return his iPad and his jumper which I had borrowed for my trip to Europe, it was somewhat non-commitally agreed that we should meet up and swap our things in due time.
Now, I am generally a very, very patient person. My tolerance for bullshit from humans is quite epic. Alas, I waited the whole of last week and did a lot of thinking, soul-searching, mental-swearing and then decided, “Fuck this. I don’t want to see him. I am going to return his stuff... by courier.”

So I sent his stuff back to him today. About midday came a text. Enjoy the following exchange.



Okay, I admit I was a bit hasty with the reply and only realize the hairdryer return-policy was being brought up after I sent that text. Alas, the man is soooo sharp.



Seriously mate, if I would go through all the effort to get your things couriered to your office, do you really think I want to see your face? Do you? Huh? Huh? Huh??? But woe betide me! Some people are really, THICK in the head.



Yes, thank you. I too am very glad that you would 'literally' be willing to meet me for two minutes. God only knows how one deals with figurative meetings. They never taught me that in the UandI-versity. Is it me or are people really that dense these days? Or is the world filled with Muppets that only understand certain codes? Do I have to sing Fuck Off Far, Far Away to the tune of Elmo Song before you get what I am trying to say?

Urgh.

Either way, another hairdryer bites the dust. So ladies, if the next guy you date has a hairdryer lying about, please exercise extreme caution about leaving yours behind because you clearly will not be the last one. And there's no comfort for hairdryer loss. Trust me, I've been there. Thrice.