Dyeing My Hair Pink and Reviving the Incredible Sex

Sowing My Wild Oats

Nine years ago this month, I got so drunk that I blacked out and had sex with a stranger. 

I woke up the next morning and he was gone (what was his name?). My apartment was an incriminating, disgusting mess with the telltale signs of my booze-filled romp. Miraculously, I hadn’t been mugged or killed. I had a raging hangover and was late for work.

I was ashamed of myself.

It wasn’t the first time I’d done something that reckless and irresponsible. For all the ways that I was living a very conscientious, calculated, and careful life, I would sometimes almost rebel against my own good judgment with a night of boozing and screwing.

That literally unmemorable night occurred a week or two before my 25th birthday. I decided it was time to clean up my act and start dating the kind of guy who had the potential to meet my parents. Yeah, my standards were that low that I needed to actually declare this intention for my quarter-century birthday.

And what do you know? Max and I got together the night of my 25th birthday party.

Putting Away My Oats 

Max was so sweet, so clean cut. He was smart, articulate, and a major rule follower. Again, not that I was some rebel living on the edge of society, but I certainly had my share of stories that starred Kat the Bad Decision Maker. Max didn’t have those. I felt safe with him, but I also felt I needed to behave myself.

I wanted to be a grownup, one who was good enough for Max. He was super conservative in how he conducted himself. Maybe he was a little square for me, but maybe that was good for me. I told myself that I’d met the right man at the right time so I’d cut it out with those idiotic blackout nights and get myself on track with the perfect guy to meet my parents. 

I used to say about us, “Some people need to sow their wild oats before they can settle down. I had to sow my oats.  Max has no oats!"

I used to smoke cigarettes in my teens, and in my 20s I only smoked once in awhile when -- you guessed it! -- drunk. Max hated smoking, so I promised him I’d stop (and I did). Needless to say, he’d never touched pot (he lied to me initially and said he had and later admitted he’d never smoked anything), so I promised him I’d stop (and I did).

As time passed, I still hung out with my friends and all that, but I toned myself down. Maybe it was my getting older, but honestly, I think I just didn’t want to feel judged by the man I loved so much. If Max was with me at a bar, we always left earlier than I actually wanted to. Not that I had many opportunities to smoke pot, but I declined.

I wanted to be a good girl, which included being very tame in the bedroom -- even though I wanted to be "a lady in the street but a freak in the bed," in the wise words of Usher. Max wouldn’t share anything about what he wanted sexually. I quickly learned that expressing my likes and dislikes made Max rather uncomfortable, so I mostly stayed silent – which eventually became a theme of our relationship.

Sowing Some New Oats

Fast forward to 2013.

Kat is truly, truly, truly outrageous!

This weekend, finally tried out a look I’ve been dying to try – I had two streaks of Jem-pink hair dye applied. When my hair is down, you don’t really see it, but when it’s up, it’s very obvious. It reminds me of playing with Manic Panic hair dye like Angela Chase in the early-mid 1990s, when I dabbled with purple, pink, and blue. (Blue was a bad idea. It looked great for a week or two then turned grey.)  It's just a bit badass -- but still acceptable for my corporate job -- and I absolutely love it.

When my wonderfully gay hairdresser revealed his work, two thoughts came to mind:

1. Max would hate this look. 
2. Jason would love this look. Yes, Mr. Incredible Sex himself.

So… yeah. Jason came over. (He loved my hair.) I promised I would tell you if I went back for more Incredible Sex, and I have. It’s actually been really nice because I get some attention from Jason, I get off, and then he leaves. No sleepovers, no telling me he loves me, no baking brownies. Oddly, given our history, it’s remarkably uncomplicated; we’re friendly so even though we really are using each other, it’s fun. We openly have said that this once-in-awhile thing can only work until one of us starts dating someone else, then it’s off, no questions asked. Works for me, but I know most of my friends will not approve. 

[This is the point where the worried/disapproving friends will start texting me, "Kat! Jason?! WTF!!!"]

Awkward selfie!

Tonight, Jason smoked some pot out the window that faces the apartment building I lived in when I had that awful blackout sex night. I marveled at how much things seemed to have come full circle. I live alone. I’m having casual sex with a guy who will never meet my parents. I’m around pot again. My hair has pink streaks like it did in 1996 (except now I paid $90 for it and back then I applied it myself with an old toothbrush).

But, here’s the difference. I’m not 24 years old. I now have nine years of living and crying and dreaming and loving, so I’m not the same person, even if I’m kind of reverting back to some of the old behaviors from before my marriage. My life just got too damn serious with Max in general and as the marriage fell apart, and then even more so as we had to do grownup shit like mediation and selling a condo. I think I have earned it to act a little stupid – but in ways that still allow me to respect myself in the morning. 

And my hair is so awesome.

After your divorce, did you find yourself reverting back to old behaviors? Any regrets about how you acted?

See also: In Favor of Casual Sex.