Bad Hair & Bad Connections

My hair looked like a zombie had styled it.

I'd spent forty-five minutes with a curling iron,YouTube tutorials paused on my phone, and somehow ended up looking like I'd been electrocuted. This was NOT the vibe for my first date with Tyler.

My hair had always been my thing—long, dark, usually cooperative. But today, it was a fluffy bird's nest.

And then the cable modem decided to die.

NO WiFi. NO streaming my emergency pep-talk playlist. NO way to text Tyler that I might be late.

I yanked on the cable connector so hard it ripped from the wall. Tiny plastic pieces scattered across my carpet like confetti.

Why did the universe hate me?

My mom poked her head in. "Hair not cooperating?"

"It's a disaster," I groaned. "And the cable is dead. I can't even watch Zombie High to feel better about my life."

She laughed. "First world problems, sweetie. Tyler likes YOU, not your hair. And definitely not your cable connection."

Easy for her to say. She wasn't the one with hair that looked like it had survived an apocalypse.

Twenty minutes later, I met Tyler at the coffee shop, wearing a hat and feeling like a zombie from staying up all night overthinking.

"You okay?" Tyler asked. "You look—different."

"Bad hair day," I mumbled. "And my cable died."

Tyler smiled. "Honestly? You look cute in the hat. My hair does this thing in humidity where it tries to eat my face. We should start a support group."

We ended up spending two hours talking about hair disasters and times technology failed at the worst moments. Tyler admitted to once giving a presentation with their zipper down.

I didn't even need my hair to look perfect. The connection was actually better than I'd planned—even without the cable.