When she got back with Patches I had finished my hot cocoa and muffin. Pearl’s coffee had gone cold, but she didn’t even bother asking about it. I knew I’d have to throw it away when I got the chance.

Pearl made me tell Patches everything I had told her earlier that morning. I did, and she had a similar reaction to Pearl’s; wide-eyed and slack-jawed. She was a tad less sensitive about it, but still friendly. She was all over the place, almost fan-girling about it. Seriously, she talked about it like it was her favorite book series, coming up with wild conspiracies and stuff like that. She even named the rapist “Boner,” which was hilarious.

As it turns out, there is at least one hairdresser open on Sundays. It’s actually a massive salon, and I honestly feel quite sorry for the ponies working there. Having to work today, just so other ponies can have their relaxing day off. They seemed rather happy to be working, though, so I didn’t stress about it. More like I couldn’t.

The barber was very skilled. I had no idea what to ask for, but I was lucky enough to have the girls tell the stallion working the clippers exactly what I apparently wanted. It’s a stylish cut, I must admit. I never thought my curly mane could pull off an Ivy League-style clean cut/side swipe. It’s kind of like a comb-over, but it looks good since my mane is a decent length.

I always keep my tail cut short, but I never thought of it as unkempt. The barber pony pointed out split ends and trimmed that as well. With a sleek diagonal cut he evened it out just below my glutes, stylishly keeping my nether regions a modest mystery.

Patches had a hooficure, and Pearl decided to get a dark-blue streak in her sea-green mane and tail. It was quite an eye-catcher, but I had to let her know it didn’t quite suit her personality. She took it as a compliment, and we all laughed.

I have to admire Pearl’s sheer audacity sometimes. If I had half of her courage, I’d probably have a boyfriend by now. And I might not have been raped.

During most of the visit, we had agreed not to talk about last night after the party. We didn’t want to spread any kind of gossip about a rapist in Centurion Park. I convinced myself not to mind the salon ponies possibly picking up on my sexuality, convincing myself that if I was even going to consider being a regular here, I needed to establish some kind of trust in the staff.

It seems like a pointless philosophy, doesn’t it? I don’t need to be friends with them for them to do their job. Then again, it wouldn’t hurt to have friends in high places, relatively. Plus, maybe my mood affects how well they work. I know I work better when the patrons at the café are happy and nice.

Then again, just being friendly doesn’t necessarily entail the classification of “friend,” especially to a staff member. I can have a positive attitude without adding to my list of friends. But, I want to add to that list, don’t I?

I’m overthinking it, by a lot. Sorry, I’m just a little skeptical about friends ever since… Well, I guess ever since I officially lost touch with Minty Swirl. I’m over it though. I still like the memories we shared, and she certainly taught me a lot about myself I might not have learned without her, or her father. But that’s another story.

Anyhow, we spent some time in the steam room after our make-overs. I often caught myself trying to see my own head and admire my mane-cut. It feels so sharp and admirable.

Pearl even caught me once and had to say something. “It looks good.” A simple, yet meaningful compliment. “It really suits you.” She had a genuine look of joy on her face, a grin from ear to ear and a sparkle in her eyes.

“I knew it would,” Patches butts in with mock-pride. It was a joint decision, the mane-cut, on their parts. I went along with it, trusting their judgement completely, hoping not to regret it in the end. I don’t, just so we’re clear, but at the time it had occurred to me I might not like what I ended up with.

I find I’m trying to look at it again, and the girls notice too.

“Do you want a mirror?” Patches asks with her signature amount of sass that everypony tends to both love and hate her for.

“Yeah,” I retaliate. “So I can look at something good for a change.” She raises an eyebrow at me. We all laugh for some time. I just thought; I should probably thank Patches. Being around her has really helped me learn to speak my mind. You know that before I had a tendency to keep to myself almost 100% of the time, right? Or was that something I didn’t write down well?

I’ll take a look later, and I guess we’ll see if it was clear or not. All I remember from life in Green Stables is bits and pieces of mostly bad stuff; falling for Churner, fighting with him, dad’s bad temper, splitting my head open, Sawdust’s sister’s allergy to red onions. There are plenty more things I know I did, and can probably remember at another time, but you get the idea.

“You think you’d go out with a stallion with that hair?”

It took me a second to register that Pearl had asked me the question. “Uhh…” I hesitate. I had never really thought about what I actually like about certain stallions, things I find attractive or not.

That’s why I’m really embarrassed when Patches asks, “Do you even know what you’re looking for?”

I bite my bottom lip, hesitating some more. Having never put any serious thought into the idea, it’s hard for me to respond. I think for a brief second of answering sarcastically, but nothing even remotely so comes to mind. Besides, I also want to know the truth, so I tell her, “No, I don’t.” I look away, ashamed. “I guess I figured I’d know when I met him.” I unconsciously glance around the sauna and silently thank Celestia—only She knows why—that there’s no pony else in there.

They’re both quiet for a beat, then Pearl eases back in, “That’s nice and all, but it’d be easier to find somepony if you know what you’re looking for.”

I take a deep breath. The hot air feels good in my lungs, alleviating the stress of the previous night. “I guess…”

There’s another moment of painful silence. I feel like telling it off as a joke, changing the subject and lightening the mood. I don’t want to end our spa day on such a sour note. Lucky for me, though, Patches has a better idea. “Why don’t we try?” She suggests.

I look at her. “Try?”

“Yeah,” she smirks, scooting closer to me, pushing Pearl closer in turn. “Why don’t we fantasize some dream-boats?”

I let the thought sink in for a moment. “We?” I insist.

She rolls her eyes. “Well yeah,” she urges. “I’m single and into stallions. You’re single and into stallions. Let’s come up with the perfect hotty!”

That makes me smile. I’m skeptical at first, and now I’m sure I was worried about coming up with “the perfect hotty,” and then never being interested in any less. But, Pearl had made a convincing argument; that if I don’t know what I’m looking for I’d never find it. This little exercise could be the perfect thing for putting an idea in my head.

I smile. “Well I don’t think I’d like this mane-cut on the guy,” I said.

“I think I might,” Patches noted, “depending on his personality.”

“But you think it looks good on me, right?” I assure.

“Oh absolutely,” she promises. “It gives you the intelligent look you live up to, while also being free-flowing, like you get when you’re not serious.”

“How often am I serious?” I insist, a little offended.

“At least half the time.” That doesn’t make much sense, so I just roll my eyes. “We’re getting off topic though.”

“Right,” I agree. “Well, I think I’d prefer someone with a relatively levelheaded style, and an even more serious nature. I think he should... put a lot of thought into what he says.” Pearl gives me a strange look at that, but I try to look past it, since I don’t know how to take it. It’s harder to forget than I wanted. “I’d also like him to be gentle, caring, but still serious.” I’m kind of just rattling on, not really thinking about what I’m saying besides the fact that it’s all true.

“I’d like someone with a longer mane,” Patches plays. “Something wavy and somewhat concealing.”

I realize now that she’s thinking of a mane style similar to Churner’s. I didn’t think of it then because I couldn’t ignore the look Pearl had given me. All I said was I wanted someone more serious, right? What had she assumed I meant?

I’d be sure to ask her in private afterward. But for now, I needed to go along with Patches’ little game. Moreover, I wanted to.

In the end she came up with a long-maned bodybuilder that liked loose clothing and chocolate-covered fruit. I think I came up with someone just a little taller than me with a similar build who liked reading and musicals.