Husband draws marriage line on a pixie haircut

DEAR CAROLYN: My husband and I have been married 15 years, and about five years ago we nearly got divorced. Lots of therapy later, we are in a better place.

During the rough times, I had a pixie haircut I loved. He hated it, and said a) he isn’t sexually attracted to me with that cut, and b) he can’t stay married to someone he isn’t sexually attracted to. I grew back the hair, but always missed it.

Now that we are in a better place relationshipwise, I want to cut it short again. He sees this as a return of the bad times, and doesn’t understand why I would do the one thing that “blows up our relationship.” Which means he thinks of this as a selfish act.

I told him a) hair is not responsible for bad times, b) the cut would be different, and c) it is my body. Long hair is hot and requires maintenance so this is not to stick it to my husband, though the therapist did explore this with me. Any suggestions? — Anonymous

DEAR READER: Yes — but I, as you seem to as well, have a lot of discomfort about what this all means.

You get to the baseline yourself: “It is my body.” I have spent a lot of time in this space exploring exceptions to this rule, but I can summarize them here quickly: There aren’t any. There are only times and ways it is and isn’t OK to express a preference for how partners use and groom their bodies. And even when it is OK to express a preference, there’s no allowance for enforcement. We can ask our partners for changes, and we can say why and we can spell out how much we care, but in the end what they do isn’t up to us. We either accept it or leave.

So take the situations where speaking up makes the most sense, where a partner has, for example, decided to stop bathing or grooming or not to stop abusing substances. These are other people’s decisions about their own bodies that reflect the state of the person within, and so their partners can reasonably treat them as more than superficial. The person under-bathing or over-drinking can still choose to ignore a partner’s concerns — the last word on our bodies is ours, with only the most extreme exceptions — but the concerned partner has a valid stake in the other’s emotional well-being.

Then there’s the middle ground, where the shared-lifestyle issues fall — facial hair that chafes, for example, or choices to be sedentary that limit a couple’s ability to do things together. Speaking up is personal prerogative and a duty to the bond.

The last category is the purely aesthetic, and this is where partners have the weakest and often most problematic claims. When the choices reflecting one’s state of mind are accounted for, and we’re just talking a decision to wear hair short or long, colored or un — or clothing that’s loose or fitted, or whatever else reflects personal aesthetics and comfort — then partners can express preferences, sure. But when one partner declares, “You adorn yourself my way or kiss my affections goodbye,” then it’s time to recognize your “better place relationshipwise” is merely a brokered peace. If the terms of its survival are superficial, then it is superficial.

What is your marriage if it teeters, every day, eternally, a haircut away from the edge?

The terms only appear worse with scrutiny given the political implications, with long hair as femininity marker (sexually desirable) and short as empowerment marker (sexual turnoff). I’ll leave it for you to decide whether this generalization applies specifically here.

This is a lot of words about a little hair. But it stopped being just a haircut when he made it clear he wouldn’t treat it as one.

So my suggestion, finally, is to fix that. Treat it as one. Reclaim perspective. “I’m uncomfortable. I hope you’ll respect that.”

By the way — how is insisting one’s spouse remain physically uncomfortable just to be tastier eye candy for oneself not the definition of “a selfish act”?

DEAR CAROLYN: This summer I received birthday gift cards from my two nephews, ages 18 and 26.

They both work, though the younger one does only part time while being a full-time student. They never used to give me presents when they were children. While I am touched they acknowledged my birthday, it feels like a gift of money, and I have some discomfort about it. Is there a kind way to discourage them from doing this again? Or is it better simply to cherish the gesture? The sense of obligation is my main concern; I don’t want them ever to feel I expect gifts from them. — Crying Uncle

DEAR READER: “Simply cherish,” 100%. They think of others’ well-being and act on those thoughts. If I’ve learned anything on this twirling rock, I hope it’s to set the good-person bar no higher than that.