The summer after ninth grade, my hair was pink. It was one of those dye jobs that went terribly awry. But considering that I was trying to dye my naturally blonde hair to a dark burgundy, it was destined to be disastrous. It originally turned fushia (which got my the nickname of “Red” which is still used by one). When the color started to fade, I was left, for the entirety of the summer, with pink hair. (I won’t mention the fact that LBG and I underestimated the amount of dye needed for my 4 feet of hair and at first, that I looked like a fushia leopard. No, I won’t mention that.)
I didn’t mind at all actually. I really rather liked it. It just looked like I had dyed my hair just a little darker and in direct light, you could tell that it was indeed…pink.
It was a pretty amusing period. My grandparents all looked at me like I was an alien. Or like I was on drugs. (I was…but that’s beside the point.) When all I really wanted was to not be blonde.
As a direct result of the hair debacle, I met a boy named Rick. (Rick apparently liked fushia headed chicks. Hard not to, I guess, we are HOT.) He would have been a regular looking guy, but he had dyed jet black hair and pale skin. Dressed all in black with some sort of spiky, leather strapped thing on his wrist. I was in the music section at Target and he walked over to tell me that I had the best NIN shirt he had ever seen. I talked to him for exactly 3.5 seconds, and then had to go. I gave him my phone number and that night, and every night after for a month he requested “Possum Kingdom” on the radio as his song to me. I just heard it. Two things:
1. Why in hell do I remember this guy? I only saw him once for less than five minutes and he was weird and kind of scary looking.
2. Why in hell would you want “Possum Kingdom” dedicated to you? I am pretty sure I didn’t ask for it. But I am also pretty sure that the song is strange and kind of scary as well.
Now I am kind of creeped out. Did he want to kill me or date me? Hmmm…Either way, that was now over ten years ago…(Christ, I am OLD.) I just find it odd that I remember so much about a person I only met once. Someone who may or may not have wanted to slice me up into little pieces as a sacrifice to Satan. Or Trent Reznor.