Aged Club straight to your inbox.

When I think back on our journey together, I see a trend of him making subtle disparaging remarks about my training and hairstyling business. There’s been a growing tension between us as these situations have developed.

Our relationship, which had been so understanding and full of promise at first, started to show signs of weakness when Stan would often make lighthearted remarks about my work. I dismissed them at first, thinking they were just part of his humor. But as time went on, these remarks began to seem more like subtly critical remarks than jokes.

He would frequently draw comparisons between our educational experiences, emphasizing his Ivy League education while downplaying my accomplishments via hard work. He seemed reluctant to talk about my profession with his academic peers in social situations, as though it was a taboo subject.

Our engagement started to get to me. The ring he gave me served as a constant reminder of his wealth and the schooling that made him so successful. Was I really that simple a hairstylist?

The culmination of this mounting tension was a supper that was, in my opinion, the straw that broke the camel’s back. We were having dinner with some of Stan’s law school pals, and I could immediately sense the implicit criticism that comes with being the only non-scholar in the company. The evening was developing with standard discussions on case studies and legal theories—subjects that were interesting but far removed from my everyday life.

The pivotal moment occurred when one of Stan’s buddies asked me what I thought about a current issue, maybe trying to get me involved in the conversation. Stan cut me off before I could even think of a reply, saying, “Don’t bother asking her; she’s just a hairdresser.” You do realize that she is uninterested in this sort of thing, honey? A mixture of uncomfortable silences and forced laughter met his cutting and demeaning remarks as they reverberated around the table.

Not only was I shocked by my public humiliation, but I was also shocked to learn that the man I loved thought less of me. I was flushed with shame and rage, but I forced myself to remain calm. “Okay, thanks, Stan, I’m so glad you made sure I didn’t embarrass you,” I replied in a subdued, sarcastic tone. I kept quiet for the remainder of the evening, my head buzzing with ideas and feelings.

When I think back on that evening, I see it as a turning point in our relationship. It served as a wake-up call, bringing to light the ingrained problems that required attention. Stan’s remark about that supper was more than that; it represented his underlying sentiment about my line of work and, implicitly, about me. It caused me to wonder if we were compatible and if our relationship could ever be built on mutual respect.

I have been thinking about our future together ever since that evening. It’s obvious that we need to have some serious discussions about respecting, appreciating, and understanding one other’s routes and contributions if we want our partnership to succeed—or even just survive. The things that happened that night have strengthened my sense of value and motivated me to demand the respect I’m due from everyone in my life, not just Stan.

Something inside of me ignited after the dinner fiasco. While working on a client’s hair the following day, an idea started to take shape. I was determined to make Stan understand the importance of my work and feel bad about his disparaging comments.

I communicated with my clients during my break, outlining my strategy and requesting their assistance. They all agreed, ready to help me, which delighted me. Most of the women I styled were happy to retaliate since, at one point in their life, they had been made fun of by males. I planned a meal—not just any dinner, but one that would reveal to Stan the whole scope of my career.

Playing it casual, as though things were back to normal, I gave Stan a call. He appeared to be relieved that I had cooled down after our last interaction. I suggested that we have dinner together, sort of like a get-together with “some of my friends.” Not knowing what was in store for him, he accepted with ease.

I ushered Stan into a room that night that was full of my clients—powerful people, well-known artists, and prosperous business owners who I had met through my salon. Stan was clearly impressed, but he was also growing more nervous as the evening went on. Talks around us emphasized the importance of hairstyling’s artistic value as well as its influence on networking and business within the elite circles.

Stan’s preconceptions were challenged by each of my clients’ stories, which delicately highlighted the intelligence and sophistication needed for my line of work. The high point of the evening was when a prominent business magnate publicly congratulated me for my originality and expertise, citing my work as having contributed to his social success.

Stan was surprised to learn that one of my clients was his employer, Mrs. Williams. “Honey, tell me about Mrs. Williams. I work for her. He remarked abruptly, “I have to introduce myself; this could be my chance for a promotion.” Stan was taken directly up to a gathering of women, which included his boss, by me, with my arm around him.

“Hi there, ladies I’ve been excited to share my fiance with you. Introducing Stan. He’s an assistant and gets a little nervous around powerful women, so please be kind to him, sweetie.” I said in a lovely voice.

Stan appeared frightened and surprised. The women gave him a smug smirk, as though he were a braggadocious youngster, and carried on with their chat, till he hesitated, “No, no, I am a Yale Law graduate, I’ve worked in your firm for two years and am aiming to become a junior partner soon, and I—”

Stan became enraged. He pulled me aside. He yelled, “How could you do this to me?” “I looked like a fool, thanks to you, and felt so embarrassed.”