he uses language that would make your hair curl.

Curly haired women have had it rough in history.



In grade six, I was famously dumped by Matthew Lederman for Alexis Dickson for not 'being popular enough'. Really. That's what the e-mail said. Weeks later, I found out from a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend in the seventh grade that he didn't like my hair either. Bummer. The bob was big back then, I thought. Little did I know that a bob is not the best idea when your ringlets outnumber your braincells. I should be relieved, I suppose. He could have done it over MSN Messenger.

Sure, everything was fine and dandy with c-c-c-curly haired K-K-K-Katie Morosky and Hubbell Gardiner at the beginning of The Way We Were, until she started showing her curly haired inner vixen. Next thing you know, she's offering to have a drink with him & his ladyfriend and he's saying no, leaving her alone and going home with his nice, simple, brunette, straight-haired girl. How anyone could say no to Barbra Streisand is beyond me.




In When Harry Met Sally, Harry Burns is fucking every straight haired woman in New York for years before he and Sally Albright finally do it (thank god) after she hears that the former love-of-her-life is getting married (assumedly to another straight haired woman) and subsequently fall in love after an awkward nearly month long break in their famed friendship. Talk about a run-on sentence, all this straight vs. curly is giving me a headache.



It happened to Sarah-Jessica-Parker-as-Carrie-Bradshaw to Chris Noth-as-Mr. Big (and... that straight haired girl. Natasha? Natalia? Who cares?) before they were hand in hand, husband and wife in their kabillion dollar penthouse, too. Lucy never got Schroeder ever either, did she? And I bet it wasn't because of Frieda, the naturally curly red-headed wonder.

I don't mean to be so cynical, but a single girl can only feel so good after watching When Harry Met Sally for the first time... by herself... at home... on a Thursday night. I don't know why I turned down offers to go out for Billy Crystal, with or without the beard. No orgasms tonight, whether they be real in bed or faked in a booth at the nearby deli.

"How much worse can it get than finishing dinner, having him reach over, pull a hair out of my head and start flossing with it at the table?"

Oh Meg Ryan, you obviously have so much to learn.