Thursday, October 13, 2005

Spa Day Part II

Anthony, the stylist mentioned in the previous entry, has been working out at my healthclub and working at their spa as a women's and men's stylist for at least fifteen or twenty years. Almost as long as I have been a club member.

I first noticed him years ago. He was a darker and shorter Italian version of Arnold Schwarzennegger and liked to lift some nasty weights. He didn't talk to anyone or look at the women at all. So I assumed he was gay or married. He was also at the club during the day which made me wonder what he did for a living. My trainer told me he was one of the stylists at the Spa. So, despite any evidence to the contrary, I figured he was gay.

I went on with my life without him, until a couple of years ago, when I started going to the Spa to get a cut and a blow dry from my latest stylist, Nora, instead of driving twenty miles to see my beloved Australian uber-styist, Stephen. I found Stephen when he was featured in Elle magazine as one of Chicago's top hair gurus, along with Oprah's guy and somebody from Sassoon.  

Stephen and I hit it off right away because, as he put it, I wasn't a starfucker. His claim to fame was doing the hair for a lot of the women in the early James Bond movies when he was working the fashion haunts of London. He was known for his "finish." Whatever that means. Then he met someone from a suburb of Chicago and gave it all up for love. Now he's mowing the lawn, going to Little League and styling hair for ladies who shop the sales, and charging one tenth of what he could be making downtown.

I miss him, but my club is more convenient, and I don't miss the commute.

I had already been going to my healthclub's spa for several years because they provide a platoon of massage therapists, any one of whom I could count on to whip my beaten up, tired body into shape after I'd twisted myself into a pretzel playing my latest sport du jour.

On my way to the designated massage table for my bi-weekly pounding, I would pass the hairdo emporium and see Anthony at work. Like most attractive men in a female environment, I just figured he kept his game face on to protect himself from the inevitable attempts by women to tear his clothes off, literally and figuratively. I understood his dilemma.

A tennis pro I knew once showed me the unsolicited stack of letters he got each week from women who gave him the dates their husbands would be out of town, what doors to the house were always unlocked, and diagrams detailing the route to their bedrooms. Sometimes it's embarrassing to be a woman.

So I understood why Anthony treated me like he treated all the other women within eyesight -- like a piece of lint. Until I made my first appointment with Nora to get a haircut. And he heard me laugh.

I don't want to say it was love at first laugh, but the man was hooked. He started doing impersonations, telling jokes from the Henny Youngman comedy book, even tap dancing just to make me guffaw. It was like a switch got turned on and his personality lit up.  

I found out he was married, not gay, which helped explain his careful avoidance of overt flirting with women -- no doubt a lesson he learned the hard way. But this somber, uber-muscular [I've used UBER twice now, hmmm] handsome man giggles like a schoolgirl when he sees me coming. It's really silly.

His eyes light up and hegets this shit-eating grin on his face. And it's not licentious. It's pure joy. Certainly nothing to do with wanting to jump my bones -- because I couldn't look less like a sex object when I'm in for my monthly makeover.  

I think it's worth noting that I'm not one of Anthony's clients. So he's not sucking up for a big tip.

The thing is, he really does know how to make me laugh. He does a great impersonation of Bill Murray's lounge singer from SNL. And his imitation of tap dancing couldn't be more comical.

Then one day not too long ago, when she wasn't burning one of my ears with the blow dryer, Nora wanted to see a picture of me with my natural hair, which is, or was, dark auburn. We were discussing the possbility of going back to that color, but I wasn't convinced.  So to help out I brought in a picture of myself when I was modeling so she could see what color my hair used to be.

What I hadn't planned on was Nora showing it to Anthony.

He may have loved my laugh, but he really loved that picture of me from 35 years ago. Sheesh, what's not to like?

The next time I came to the spa he made a point of letting me know that there was no telling what might have happened between us when we were younger. I, however, have seen a snapshot of him from his younger days and I can tell you nothing would have happened.

After he saw my picture, I noticed he looked at me differently the next time I came in to see Nora. Like he could see past the old me to the young me. I didn't know whether this was good news or bad news.

He started to treat me differently. Clearly things had changed between us because of the photo. It became quite apparent that we couldn't go back to just laughing and joshing and joking anymore.

No. First we have the usual few minutes of laughs, including some jokes so old they smell like mildew. Next he starts channeling Bill Murray's lounge act like always, holding a hairbrush as a microphone. This is followed up by a fantastic finish, thirty seconds of his signature faux tap dancing that cracks me up.  

Then -- this is the new part -- he sits down next to me, gets a serious look on his face, and. . .we talk about the White Sox.  


somenuttychic said...

That photo reminds me of a prettier, softer version of Sandra Bullock. Though I think she is very pretty already.  

So now the primary Topic du Jour is the White Sox, huh? Hmmm. Interesting.

psychfun said...

Wow! Gorgeous...but that spirit is still there. I like the dark hair! The picture reminds me of that famous one of "Somewhere in Time" of Jane Seymour


judypearllove said...

I think if you went back to that color hair if your stylist can get it very close to that it would be very pretty. It's very warm soft and would look very becoming on you now. soft and pretty. Now about the actions of this muscle guy.... You made Him feel good by thinking he was so funny. Everyone loves to laugh it made you feel good all over body, mind and spirit but then when he looked at that pic it made him think of making love to a beautiful woman..... YOU!! So he can't preform his funny stuff as well now because as much as he's trying not to he can't help but fanasize of making love to you and he's covering it up with being serious. Keep joking and laughing he'll snap out of it over time encourage him to do some impressions for you. If you change your hair let us see and that was a beautiful pic. That's my take on the situation and Hey keep laughing your journal is kick a**.

mombzbe said...

Gorgeous color, Mrs L.  That's the best shade of uber-auburn I've ever seen.  

emmapeeldallas said...

"However, I did see a picture of him from his younger days and I can safely say that nothing would have happened."
LOL!  What a HOOT!  Anthony sounds quite a bit different from my guy, Tuan...but going to the hairdresser is always an experience.


bluwave9 said...

Lately I've been getting a pretty serious look on my face as well when I talk about the White Sox.  But I can't do a killer Bill Murray SNL impression. I'm too busy working on my Pierzynski voodoo doll.

Mrs. L has a crush, na na...

robbush6 said...

Hair? Who could get past those eyes?

jevanslink said...

This  entry is sounding so self indulgent.  It was supposed to be kind of funny.  Sorry about that.  I just found it amusing that Anthony started entertaining me when he heard my laugh.  When he saw my picture he decided we could talk sports, which is no something you would have expected.  Mrs. L

judithheartsong said...

beautiful then and beautiful now... insides and outsides:):):)

Your relationship with this wonderful man sounds like the relationship I have with our mechanics. One is young and single and hip, the other is older and married... and I am very obviously a lesbian devoted to Virginia (who was already their customer before I came along). We laugh and joke and have a marvelous time, and if Virginia goes there without me, they ask where I am. I LOVE those guys!!!

I loved your story!! Thank the gods it's Friday.

:) judi

swibirun said...

What an interesting entry.  It's funny how strangers work their way into our lives, for whatever reason, for however short a time.  

And yes, you were hot then and you still are!  


gdireneoe said...

Once a hottie always a hottie!  You're one of those lucky chicks that made men slobber in your early youth...and make them salivate now.  What a package Ms. L...we should all be so lucky. ;)  C.

gdireneoe said...

Thanks for stopping by.  Yes I do!  Let me know what you think. ;)  C.

gaboatman said...

Mrs. L
Two massages a WEEK?  My goodness!  I'm lucky if I get two professional massages a year.  Nothing wrong with it, LOL, I'm just jealous, that's all.

jevanslink said...

Two massages and a trip to the chiropractor.  I needed all the help I could get to keep playing my sports.  Mrs. L

bosoxblue6993w said...

the only thing that bets massaged on me is my wallet

tillysweetchops said...

What a babe! And what an interesting story, I was transfixed. Bearing in mind what a multi-talented person this Anthony was (with the tapping dancing etc) I'm wondering what exactly his "finish" entailed!


chasenkids said...

What a beautiful woman!!!

(You still are though!)


screaminremo303 said...

Holy Crap! I'm gonna have to right-click that picture, just as soon as I get, reading the comments. Yeah, that's what I'm doing. Nothing else. Just reading the comments.

Remo gives it "Three Palms Up"

shaz19743 said...

You now have an unofficial fan club in GLASGOW .....remind me never to let my father read your journal when my mothers within seeing distance ....he went on so much i think he was about to grab the visa and book a flight lol x

screaminremo303 said...

I have nothing new to say. I'm just looking.

My Dad once told me to look at a woman's mother to see what she will look like after you marry her. Your daughter's owe you big time.