He’s Having A Bad Blonde Moment

(I am naturally blonde; while in college I decide to be a redhead — a redhead on a budget. So about once a month I would buy a $2 box of dye, in all different shades. Sometimes I was deep auburn, sometimes I was copper penny red. Clearly I was dying my hair. I worked with this guy for two years during this time period. He had a huge crush on all the girls there, myself included. It is worth noting that he was Hispanic and very vocal about all perceived racism and stereotyping. He told a tale of woe about how awful his life growing up had been with being picked on because of his race, until a year later his younger brother started working at the same place, and we find out he grew up in a small town that was nearly 90% Hispanic and the reason he was picked on was because their dad was the Sheriff and his mom a judge, and he made use of that. One day during a conversation I make a comment about dying my hair.)

Guy: “Wait, wait, you aren’t a natural red-head?!”

Me: “Dude, you’ve been in my pants. No, I am not.”

Guy: “But… but what are you, then?”

Me: “What? Blonde.” *laughing* “Why does it matter?”

Guy: *with a look of horror* “Are you kidding me!? You are a liar and a fraud; all blonde girls are mean, stuck up b****es! They think they are so much better than anyone; will never give a guy like me the time of day!”

Me: “Seriously? You’ve known me for two years. Have I ever given you that impression? We have known each other intimately; are you seriously going to sit there and tell me that you have such a problem with the hair color I was BORN with, that knowing me for two years doesn’t matter, because I am blonde? Seriously? You don’t see the utter hypocrisy you have going on right now?”

(He didn’t see the hypocrisy — and we no longer hung out except as work forced us to.)