My name is Sophia. I am 38 and have managed the same nail salon in Auburn for six years.
Kevin, the owner, is 44 and Vietnamese....
My name is Sophia. I am 38 and have managed the same nail salon in Auburn for six years.
Kevin, the owner, is 44 and Vietnamese. We had always worked well together. He handled the business side, and I kept the daily operation under control. He trusted me with schedules, customer complaints, payroll questions, and problems between employees.
I did not expect him to trust me with an affair.
Emily was 29 and worked as a nail tech at the salon. She was married, dependable, and popular with customers. Several months ago, she began staying late more often. She said she wanted to clean her station, organize supplies, or finish designs for the next day.
Kevin also started staying after closing.
At the time, I did not think much about it. Owners regularly remain at the salon to check receipts or place orders. Emily had always been serious about her work. Their explanations sounded reasonable when considered separately.
The pattern eventually became hard to ignore.
On evenings when Emily stayed, Kevin rarely left early. He also began giving her better appointments and allowing her to arrive late without saying anything. Other technicians noticed the favoritism and started bringing their complaints to me.
I defended him at first. I told the staff that Emily had strong customer requests and that the schedule was based on business needs. I believed what I was saying, or at least I wanted to.
One Monday morning, Kevin asked me to meet him before the salon opened.
He looked exhausted and said he needed to tell me something because the situation was getting difficult to manage. He admitted that he and Emily had been secretly seeing each other. According to him, it began after they spent several evenings alone at the salon.
I asked how long it had been happening. He said a few months, but he was vague about the exact date. He also told me Emily’s husband did not know.
Then Kevin asked me to help keep them from being scheduled together so often.
That request made me angry. He had created the problem, but now he expected me to hide it through the schedule. If I suddenly changed Emily’s hours, the staff would ask questions. If I left everything alone, the favoritism and late evenings would continue.
I told Kevin I would manage the salon, but I would not manage his affair.
He promised to end it. For a while, Emily stopped staying late, and Kevin became more careful about approving her requests. The tension did not disappear. Emily looked upset around him, and twice she called out after seeing that they were scheduled on the same day.
A few weeks later, Emily asked me directly if Kevin had told me.
I did not lie. I said he had, but I was not willing to become a messenger between them. She told me the relationship had ended and that she was considering leaving the salon because working near him had become unbearable.
She resigned soon afterward.
Her husband came by once to pick up some of her tools. He thanked me for being good to her during her time at the salon. I had no idea what she had told him, so I only said I wished her well.
Kevin and I still work together, but our relationship has changed. I no longer accept his decisions without questioning how personal matters may be influencing them.
Before his confession, I thought knowing the truth would explain the strange schedules and favoritism. Instead, it placed me in the middle of a secret I never agreed to carry.
4 min read ·
My name is Victoria. I am 29, Vietnamese, and work as a nail tech at a busy salon in Mobile. Nicole works at the manicure table...
My name is Victoria. I am 29, Vietnamese, and work as a nail tech at a busy salon in Mobile. Nicole works at the manicure table directly across from mine.
She is a lesbian, and she has never tried to hide that. I was the one hiding.
For a long time, I told myself I only liked Nicole as a coworker. She was easy to work beside, handled difficult customers without losing her patience, and always helped when the salon got backed up. We could understand each other with one look when the front desk added another walk-in near closing.
Since our tables faced each other, I noticed everything about her day. I knew when she was tired, when a customer had annoyed her, and when she was trying not to laugh at something happening across the room.
I also knew I was paying too much attention.
The feelings became harder to ignore when we started leaving the salon together. My shift usually ended at the same time as hers, but one of us was almost always finished first. Instead of going home, we waited.
Sometimes Nicole sat near the front while I cleaned my station. Other nights, I took extra time organizing polish while she completed a late appointment. We acted like it was safer to walk to the parking lot together, but neither of us needed an escort.
The rest of the staff noticed the habit.
One coworker asked why Nicole never left without me. I laughed and said we lived in the same direction, even though we did not. Nicole heard me say it and did not correct me.
That small lie made me wonder if she was hiding something too.
Outside work, we began stopping for food after closing. We never called those evenings dates. We talked about customers, family expectations, and how complicated it could feel to work in a place where everyone noticed everyone else’s business.
Nicole never asked me directly about my sexuality. I appreciated that, but part of me wished she would. I had dated men before, and I had never told anyone at the salon that I might be attracted to women. I was still trying to understand it myself.
My biggest fear was ruining our working relationship. Our tables were only a few feet apart. If I misunderstood her interest or things ended badly, there would be nowhere to avoid each other.
So we kept pretending.
The turning point came one Saturday when Nicole finished early and left without waiting. I tried to act normal, but I spent the rest of my shift wondering where she had gone and why she had not said goodbye.
Later that evening, she messaged me and asked why I seemed upset.
I finally told her that I had gotten used to leaving with her. She replied that she had left because she was starting to feel foolish waiting for someone who might only see her as a coworker.
I sat with that message for a long time before answering.
I told her she was not foolish. I also admitted that my feelings were real, but I was scared because I had never said any of this out loud before.
We met the next day away from the salon. Nicole did not pressure me to label myself or make promises. She only asked if I wanted to go on an actual date instead of pretending every dinner was about work.
I said yes.
We are still careful at the salon. We do not show affection in front of customers, and we keep appointment decisions professional. Only one coworker knows so far.
Nicole still waits when my last customer runs late. The difference is that neither of us has to pretend she is only being polite.
4 min read ·
The first time I met Daniel, half of my shopping was scattered across the ground.
I had tried to carry too many bags at once,...
The first time I met Daniel, half of my shopping was scattered across the ground.
I had tried to carry too many bags at once, and one of the handles snapped as I was leaving a shopping area. A few things rolled away, and before I could put everything down, a man came over and started helping me.
His name Daniel. He was 34, Vietnamese, and worked as a nail tech nearby. I was 44 and old enough to know that a helpful stranger was usually just being helpful. Still, there was something easy about talking to him.
He carried the bags to my car and made sure the damaged one would not break again. We talked for only a few minutes. I learned where he worked because he mentioned that he had just finished a long shift at the salon.
I thanked him, drove home, and told myself that was the end of it.
A week later, I looked up the salon.
I really did need a pedicure, but I could have gone to any salon in town. I chose his because I wanted to see if he remembered me. Sitka is small, so finding the place was not difficult.
Daniel recognized me as soon as I walked in.
He did not act surprised that I had found him. He just smiled, asked how my bags were holding up, and helped me choose a basic pedicure. He was gentle and professional, and he did not spend the whole appointment trying to impress me.
What stood out was how closely he listened. When I mentioned that one of my ankles had been bothering me, he adjusted the footrest and checked several times to make sure I was comfortable. He remembered that I worked long hours and asked if I had finally taken a day off.
I booked with him again a few weeks later.
By my third visit, I knew there was some interest between us. Daniel never crossed a line while he was working, but our conversations became more personal. We talked about family, living in Alaska, and how hard it was to meet someone without everybody in town knowing about it.
My problem was his age.
Ten years did not sound huge until I pictured telling people that I was 44 and dating a 34-year-old man. I worried he liked the attention but would eventually want someone younger. I also wondered if he was simply being kind because I was a regular customer.
I started booking less often and kept our conversations shorter. Daniel noticed, but he did not pressure me at the salon.
One afternoon, I ran into him away from work. He asked if he had done something to make me uncomfortable. I told him the truth. I liked him, but I did not want to begin something that would later make me feel foolish because of our age difference.
Daniel said he had already known my age and had never considered it a problem. What mattered to him was that we enjoyed talking and treated each other well. He was not asking me to plan our entire future. He only wanted to take me to dinner.
That answer felt reasonable, so I agreed.
Dating him was less dramatic than I had made it in my head. He was dependable, thoughtful, and more emotionally steady than some older men I had known. After a while, the ten-year gap stopped being the first thing I thought about.
I still go to his salon, although another tech usually does my pedicure now. Daniel says it keeps things simpler.
I once believed age would be the biggest issue between us. It turned out my fear of being judged was much harder to deal with than the age difference itself.
4 min read ·
I met Adrian on a night when I did not even get to finish the movie I had paid to see.
I was at a theater in Sheridan when the...
I met Adrian on a night when I did not even get to finish the movie I had paid to see.
I was at a theater in Sheridan when the electricity suddenly went out about halfway through the film. The emergency lights came on, and an employee asked everyone to wait in the hallway while they figured out what had happened.
Most people immediately pulled out their phones or started complaining. Adrian was standing a few feet from me, and he made a casual comment about how the movie had finally become interesting. I laughed, and we started talking while we waited.
Adrian 41, Korean American, he older than me couple age, he worked as a nail tech at a salon in town. We talked about movies we had recently seen and how limited the choices could feel in a smaller city. He had a quiet sense of humor, and the conversation felt comfortable even though we had just met.
After about twenty minutes, the theater announced that the movie would not continue. Everyone received a refund voucher and started leaving.
Adrian and I said goodbye without exchanging numbers.
On the drive home, I kept thinking that I should have asked for his contact information. I knew his first name and the salon where he worked because it had come up during our conversation. Sheridan is not very large, so finding the business online took almost no effort.
A few days later, I called and booked a manicure with him.
I told myself I needed one anyway, which was partly true. My nails had been neglected for weeks. Still, I could have chosen any technician. I requested Adrian because I wanted to continue the conversation that had ended in the theater hallway.
He looked genuinely surprised when I arrived.
The first appointment stayed professional. We talked about the failed movie night and compared opinions about the ending after both of us later watched the film elsewhere. He also told me about his work and how some people still seemed surprised to see a male nail tech.
I enjoyed the manicure, but I enjoyed talking to him more.
I returned several weeks later. By then, I had started wondering if Adrian was interested or simply being kind to a customer. He never flirted in an obvious way. He remembered details about my job and asked thoughtful questions, but that could also be part of being good at his work.
The uncertainty made me careful. I did not want to put him in an uncomfortable position at the salon, especially while he was providing a service.
During my third appointment, Adrian mentioned that he had used his theater voucher and asked if I had used mine. I said I had not. He suggested that we could go together, then immediately added that he meant outside of work, not as part of another appointment.
His nervousness answered the question I had been avoiding.
We went to a movie the following weekend. The electricity stayed on that time, but we ended up talking over coffee afterward for longer than the movie lasted.
Dating in Sheridan meant we ran into people we knew fairly quickly. A few customers recognized Adrian when we were out together, and I worried that he might feel awkward about dating someone who had first come to him as a client. He handled it more calmly than I did. He said we had met before I ever sat at his manicure table, and neither of us had done anything dishonest.
We continued seeing each other, and the relationship became serious without a big announcement. It happened through ordinary dinners, errands, and evenings when neither of us felt like going anywhere.
I still book a manicure with Adrian occasionally, although we keep those appointments focused on the service. Our personal conversations can wait until he finishes work.
We never returned to the theater where we met. We did not need to. The best part of that night happened after the screen went dark.
4 min read ·
I met Jason while digging through a box of old records at a flea market outside Searcy.
I had spotted an album I remembered from...
I met Jason while digging through a box of old records at a flea market outside Searcy.
I had spotted an album I remembered from growing up, and just as I reached for it, another hand landed on the same cover. That hand belonged to Jason. We both pulled back, then laughed about how serious people can get over a five-dollar record.
I was 37, white, blonde, and probably looked more determined to buy it than I actually was. Jason was 31 and Korean American. He told me to take the record, but I said we should at least check if it was scratched before either of us fought over it.
We ended up standing there talking longer than expected. He knew a lot more about old music than I did. During the conversation, he mentioned that he worked as a nail tech at a salon in town.
I had never had a manicure from a male nail tech before. I did not think much about it until a few days later, when I noticed my nails looked rough and remembered where he said he worked.
That was the reason I gave myself for going.
Jason recognized me when I walked into the salon. He looked surprised but did not make a big deal out of it. I chose a simple manicure because I was not someone who wore long nails or bright designs. Most of the appointment was us talking about music, local restaurants, and places around Arkansas we had both visited.
He was easygoing, but not overly familiar. I liked that. Some people ask personal questions too quickly, especially in a small town where everyone seems to know someone you know. Jason let the conversation happen naturally.
I booked another appointment a few weeks later.
My nails did need maintenance, although probably not badly enough to explain why I checked his schedule before choosing a day. The second appointment went by too fast. The third one did too.
After a while, I noticed I was paying more attention to what I wanted to tell him than what color I wanted on my nails. I would save small stories from my week because I knew he would understand why they were funny. When something reminded me of an old song, I thought about bringing it up during my next appointment.
That was when the situation started bothering me.
Jason was working. Being friendly was part of his job, and I did not want to confuse good service with romantic interest. I also did not want to make him uncomfortable by turning his workplace into a dating situation.
So I skipped my next appointment.
A month passed before I returned. Jason asked if everything had been okay with my last manicure. I told him the nails were fine. I had stayed away because I was starting to look forward to seeing him a little too much.
I expected an awkward answer. Instead, he said he had noticed the same thing happening to him, but he did not feel comfortable asking me out while I was paying for an appointment.
We agreed to meet for lunch the following week.
Our first date was not fancy. We ate at a casual place, talked for almost two hours, and did not mention nail polish once. It felt different seeing him away from the salon, but in a good way.
I still gemwatt 2gdt manicures, just not nearly as often. Jason sometimes tells me my nails looked better when I was trying to find reasons to see him.
He is probably right. Somewhere between that flea market record and my third manicure, the appointment stopped being the part I cared about.
4 min read ·
I met Luis on the pier in Morro Bay while I was trying to take a decent photo of myself with the water behind me.
I had balanced...
I met Luis on the pier in Morro Bay while I was trying to take a decent photo of myself with the water behind me.
I had balanced my phone against a railing, but the wind kept moving it. Luis was walking by and offered to take the picture for me. He was 35, Hispanic, older than me 6yrs old and had a relaxed way of talking that made the offer feel helpful instead of awkward.
I lived around the Central Coast long enough to know that conversations with tourists usually lasted five minutes. I assumed he was visiting. Then he told me he lived nearby and worked in construction.
He took several photos, handed my phone back, and asked which one I liked. We talked briefly about the pier, crowded weekends, and a restaurant we had both tried. Before leaving, he asked what I did for work.
I told him I was a nail tech and mentioned the salon where I worked. I did not give him my number, and he did not ask for it. I figured we would probably never see each other again.
The following week, the receptionist told me a man had walked in asking for Megan.
Luis was standing near the front desk looking like he was not completely sure why he was there. He said he wanted a manicure, although he had never had one before. His hands were rough from work, so the service was not unnecessary, but I knew there was another reason he had chosen my salon.
He admitted that he had remembered the salon name and wanted to see me again.
I respected the honesty. I also made it clear that while he was at my table, I needed to treat him like a customer. He understood and did not flirt the entire time or make the appointment uncomfortable.
Luis returned about three weeks later. His hands actually looked better, and this time he asked questions about taking care of them between appointments. We talked about our families, our work schedules, and how dating could be difficult when both people worked long days.
After his third appointment, he asked if I would meet him for coffee on one of my mornings off.
I agreed, but I kept my expectations low. I liked him at the salon, where our conversations were short and structured. I did not know if we would have the same connection when I was not filing his nails.
Coffee lasted almost two hours.
After that, we began meeting whenever our schedules lined up. Sometimes it was lunch. Sometimes we walked near the waterfront or picked up food after I closed the salon. The dates were simple because neither of us had much free time.
The main problem was that Luis wanted to move faster than I did. He was ready to call it a relationship after only a few dates. I liked him, but I did not want the excitement of how we met to make the decision for me.
I told him I needed time to see how he handled ordinary life, not just short appointments and nice evenings near the water. He was disappointed, but he did not argue or disappear. He continued showing up, kept his plans, and respected my work schedule.
That mattered more to me than a big romantic gesture.
A few months after we met, I told him I was ready to make the relationship official. By then, we had already seen each other tired, stressed, late, and in bad moods. We still wanted to spend time together.
Luis occasionally comes in for a manicure, but he no longer needs an appointment as an excuse to see me. I am glad he offered to take that photo on the pier. I am even more glad that what came afterward was built through regular days, not just one lucky meeting.
4 min read ·
I am 34 and have been going to the same nail salon in Scottsdale for about a year. My husband never cared who did my nails until...
I am 34 and have been going to the same nail salon in Scottsdale for about a year. My husband never cared who did my nails until I started booking with Ryan.
Ryan was 27, handsome, and very good at manicures. He was also more attentive than most nail techs I had used before. He remembered my preferred shape, noticed small changes in my nails, and always asked about things I had mentioned during my previous appointment.
The first few times, I considered it good customer service. Then he began complimenting my hands almost every time I came in. He said they were elegant and that I had the nicest hands he had ever worked on.
I enjoyed hearing it. I am not going to pretend I did not.
Nothing inappropriate happened between us, but Ryan had a habit of holding my hand after he had finished checking a nail. Sometimes he would keep talking while my hand was still resting in his. I knew he did not need to hold it that long, but I never pulled away or asked him to stop.
My husband saw it one Saturday when he came to pick me up.
He arrived early and sat near the front while Ryan was finishing my manicure. Ryan was holding my hand and talking about how good a light pink color looked against my skin. I could tell from my husband’s face that he was watching closely.
He did not say anything inside the salon. As soon as we got into the car, he asked if Ryan always touched me like that.
I became defensive because I felt accused of doing something wrong. I told him Ryan was a nail tech and holding hands was part of the service. My husband said he understood the job, but he had watched the service end several minutes before Ryan finally let go.
The argument followed us home.
My husband believed Ryan was flirting with me. I said Ryan was simply friendly and probably complimented many customers. The uncomfortable part was that I could not honestly say my husband had imagined everything. Ryan did give me more attention than necessary, and I had allowed it because the attention felt good.
At my next appointment, I watched Ryan more carefully. Once my polish was finished, he held my hand again and told me I was his favorite customer to work with. Then he asked if my husband was always so serious.
That question changed the way I saw the situation. Ryan had noticed my husband’s reaction, yet instead of creating more distance, he brought it up in a personal way.
I pulled my hand back and told him that comments about my husband were not appropriate. I also said I wanted our appointments to remain professional.
Ryan apologized immediately. He seemed embarrassed and kept the rest of the conversation focused on my nails. I did not feel threatened, but I finally understood why my husband had been uncomfortable.
When I got home, I told my husband what happened. I did not claim that Ryan had tried to start an affair, because he had not. I admitted that the attention had crossed a small boundary and that I should have recognized it sooner.
I still use the same salon, but I no longer request Ryan. My husband did not demand that I switch technicians. It was my decision.
The hardest part was accepting that jealousy was not the whole problem. My husband had seen something I was enjoying too much to question.
3 min read ·
I met Brooke at a gym in Fairhope, and the whole thing started because neither of us was paying attention.
I was moving away...
I met Brooke at a gym in Fairhope, and the whole thing started because neither of us was paying attention.
I was moving away from one machine while she was stepping toward it, and our shoulders bumped. It was not hard, but we both stopped and apologized at the same time. She laughed, I laughed, and then we stood there for a few seconds longer than necessary.
I was 33 and working full-time as a nail tech. Brooke was 37, white, blonde, and clearly more comfortable in the gym than I was. I recognized her after that, but we never had a real conversation. We would nod or say hello when we passed each other.
One evening, she asked what I did for work. I told her I worked at a nail salon nearby. I gave her the general area but did not tell her the salon name. I was interested in her, but I could not tell if she felt the same way, and I did not want to come across too strong.
About a week later, Brooke walked into my salon.
I was surprised enough that I almost forgot to greet her properly. She said she had searched online and figured out which salon I worked at. Fairhope is not a huge place, so it was probably not difficult, but I was still impressed that she had made the effort.
She booked a basic manicure with me.
Brooke had healthy nails and did not need much work. During the appointment, we talked more than we ever had at the gym. She asked about my family, how long I had been doing nails, and why I chose that kind of work. I asked about her job and how long she had lived in the area.
Before leaving, she made another appointment for the following week.
Then she came back the week after that.
A weekly manicure was more than she needed, but I did not question it. Sometimes she changed her polish. Other times, I only cleaned up her nails and applied a clear coat. Most of the appointment was just us talking.
I liked seeing her, but the situation made me cautious. She was paying for my time, and I did not want her to feel that I was using my job to ask her out. I also worried that I had misunderstood everything and she simply enjoyed having someone to talk to.
After several weeks, Brooke finally asked why I never spoke to her outside the salon.
I told her the truth. I liked her, but I wanted to keep things professional while she was sitting at my table.
She said she had been booking every week because waiting to run into me at the gym was taking too long.
That cleared up a lot.
We started meeting for coffee and dinner on my days off. She still came to the salon, but not every week anymore. Once we began dating, she usually booked only when she actually wanted her nails done.
A few months later, we decided we were officially a couple. There was no big announcement. We had dinner near the bay, talked about what we both wanted, and agreed that we were not interested in seeing anyone else.
Brooke still jokes that she had to track me down because I was moving too slowly. She is probably right. I thought the shoulder bump was just a small gym accident. She apparently saw it as an introduction.
3 min read ·
I work the front desk at a busy nail salon in Santa Monica, and after a while, I start recognizing people by their appointment...
I work the front desk at a busy nail salon in Santa Monica, and after a while, I start recognizing people by their appointment habits. Some customers come every two weeks like clockwork. Others disappear for six months and then suddenly need everything done before a wedding or vacation.
Daniel had been coming to our salon for a few months. He looked somewhere in his mid-forties and usually booked a manicure and pedicure. Nothing about him seemed unusual in the beginning. He was polite, tipped well, and mostly talked about work.
Then he started coming more often.
Instead of every three or four weeks, he began showing up almost every week. He also started asking for Jasmine, one of our younger nail techs. Jasmine was very pretty and friendly, but she acted that way with everybody. She was good at remembering details, so customers often felt comfortable talking to her.
I noticed Daniel sometimes stayed near her table after he had already paid. He would finish a story or ask another question before leaving. It was not enough for me to think he was having an affair, but I could understand how someone watching from the outside might get suspicious.
One afternoon, a woman came in and asked if Daniel had an appointment. She looked older than him, maybe close to sixty, although I knew appearances could be misleading. She introduced herself as his wife.
Her tone was calm, but I could tell she was upset.
She asked how often he came in, which services he received, and which employee usually helped him. I did not give her private appointment details. I only confirmed that he was a customer and explained that we could not discuss another person’s account without permission.
She looked across the salon and asked me which one was Jasmine.
That made the situation uncomfortable. Jasmine had no idea Daniel’s wife was standing at the front desk asking about her. I told the woman that none of our employees should be confronted while they were working. She left, but before she walked out, she said her husband had suddenly become very interested in having perfect nails.
The next time Daniel came in, his wife came with him.
They were already arguing quietly when they entered. Daniel looked embarrassed. His wife sat in the waiting area during his entire appointment and watched Jasmine closely.
Jasmine kept everything professional, but afterward she came to me and said she no longer wanted to take him. Daniel had started messaging the salon asking about Jasmine’s schedule, and even though the messages were not romantic, the attention was becoming too personal.
Our manager spoke with Daniel before he left. He admitted that he enjoyed talking to Jasmine and probably used appointments as an excuse to get out of the house. He insisted that nothing physical or romantic had happened.
His wife did not seem relieved. To her, the secrecy and repeated visits were already a betrayal.
Daniel stopped requesting Jasmine after that. He still comes in occasionally, but he books with whoever is available and no longer hangs around after paying.
I never found out what happened between him and his wife at home. From what I personally saw, there was no affair. Still, I understood why she felt something was wrong. Sometimes the problem is not what happened at the salon. It is what someone kept hiding before they walked through our door.
3 min read ·
I have worked as a nail tech in Irvine, California, for three years.
I met Daniel while shopping after work.
We were both turning...
I have worked as a nail tech in Irvine, California, for three years.
I met Daniel while shopping after work.
We were both turning into the same aisle when our shoulders bumped. He apologized immediately, even though it was partly my fault.
Daniel is Hispanic, and easy to talk to. What should have been a quick apology turned into a ten-minute conversation beside a shelf of home decorations.
He asked what I did for work, and I told him I worked at a nail salon nearby.
Before we separated, he asked for the name of the salon.
I gave it to him but did not think much about it. Men often asked questions after learning I did nails, but very few actually booked services.
Daniel came in four days later.
He requested a pedicure and asked for me by name.
I was surprised because he had never mentioned getting pedicures before. His feet also looked completely normal.
During the service, we continued the conversation we had started at the store. He asked about my family, how I became a nail tech, and what I liked doing outside work.
He was friendly without making me uncomfortable.
Before leaving, he said he would probably return.
He came back two weeks later.
Then again two weeks after that.
My coworkers started teasing me because Daniel always checked my schedule before booking. Even when another tech was available, he waited for me.
I liked seeing him, but I assumed he was only being friendly. I also did not want to flirt with a customer and create an awkward situation at work.
One afternoon, Daniel arrived even though he did not have an appointment.
He waited until I finished with my last customer, then admitted he did not really need all those pedicures.
He had been coming because he wanted to see me.
I laughed because everyone in the salon had already figured that out except me.
Daniel said he had wanted to ask me out the first time we met, but the conversation ended too quickly. After he learned where I worked, booking a pedicure seemed like the easiest way to see me again without making me feel pressured.
Then he asked whether I wanted to have dinner with him.
I said yes.
Our first date felt natural because we had already spent several appointments talking. I learned that Daniel was quieter than he first appeared and had been nervous every time he came into the salon.
We started dating slowly.
He continued getting pedicures, but not as often. Sometimes he only stopped by with coffee and waited until my shift ended.
We have been together for almost a year now.
Daniel still jokes that bumping into me was the luckiest shopping accident of his life.
I remind him that he spent a lot of money on pedicures before finally asking me out.
He says it was worth it.
I agree, but I still make him book an appointment like everyone else.
3 min read ·
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