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Are you ready to change yourself? (pt. ) by and93

I met Olga first time around March 2016. It was at one of gigs of local bands, which are usually disbanded the next day, and she was the vocalist of one of them. While the rest of the bands played, she hung around with us in the hall, and they introduced me to her. It turned out that we have a lot of common interests, we talked quite interestingly, and even exchanged numbers.
I didn’t really like the music of her group, but Olga performed confidently and relaxedly, like a real punk girl. Redhead, in black outfit, in heavy boots.
Two weeks later she called me and offered to meet with her friends in a small company.
Basically, there were her friends from various parties, several of my acquaintances, in general, there was something to talk about. Olga was certainly not in that punk outfit, but such a sweet, homely girl in shorts, T-shirt and barefoot.
I felt falling in love.
We talked normally, sang songs with a guitar and parted our ways.
The next time we met, there was again a collective gig, where her band participated. But this time it was acoustics, with one guitar.
And the songs were calmer. Olga this time was in a green dress and barefoot. She looked much more gentle and romantic than the first time. When she recognized me, she smiled and waved from the stage.
I felt that I was falling in love completely.
Soon she called me again and offered to meet at the company.
I had a feeling that she was kind of agitated a little, it was cold enough here, and several times she was told to put on slippers at least, but she just waved absently.
I realized that I need to do something. In the evening, we retired in the empty room, and ...
Yes! She said yes, she would like to date me.
But she would like to clarify something first.
First of all, she doesn't like guys with long hair. I'd say my hair was not very long, just regular haircut. But she said - no, I would like you to have a shorter haircut. And - this is the second thing - it will show if I am ready to change myself for her. That is to make sure whether our relationship will be serious.
I asked: "And you? Are you ready to change yourself for me?" "Sure... after you." "Ready to dye your hair blonde?" - I said rather jokingly. "Easily."
For the next few days, I carefully tried to learn as much as possible about Olga from my acquaintances. I was told that she really was a bit agitated lately, and apparently because of me, and now this habit of walking barefoot all the time came to her only when I joined the company, that is, it is quite possible that she tried so hard to attract my attention this way. I looked at her accounts and photos in social networks - indeed, this trait did not exist before. In these photos I saw a funny redhead girl, loving punk image and protest songs.
But she didn't call me again, and I realized that she was waiting for my decision. Well, if this is the only problem ...
The next concert was already close, and on the day before it I went to the barbershop.
- Hello, - said the barber, a blond woman of 30. - Do you want to change your style?
- Well ... yes, - I said. - I need to cut it shorter. A little.
- Just trim? Or very short?
- Well ... just shorter than now.
She looked.
- You know, - she said, - I think I know what do you need.
- And what?
- I want to cut it completely.
- How that again?
- 2 millimeters. I think, this is what you need.
I was not ready for such a radical change of image at all.
- Well ... are you sure that ...
Instead of answering, the machine buzzed.
- Here, - the blonde said after a few minutes, stroking the remnants of my hair. - It's nice... And there's no need to cut it again for a long time.
I saw in the mirror that my head was round, my ears were sticking out, and my face was kind of defenseless. Almost naked head reflected the light.
- Well ... thanks, - I said uncertainly.
- Don't have any doubts, it suits you well, - assured the blonde. - I know.
On the way home I thought about how I would appear with my new look to my friends, and to Olga too.
At the concert, her group performed first. We did not have time to meet in the hall.
I was feeling naked, nervously stroking my 2 millimeters hair.
This time the concert was not acoustic, there were the same punk-like and protest songs like the first time. But Olga was in a blue dress and barefoot, and did not look like a punk at all.
Seeing me in the front row, she laughed merrily and waved me.
I was not sure what this means yet.

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