I'm at your place to cook dinner with you and we're having a great time. You are doing great: you know enough about cooking to not look like a totally helpless dude, yet you show the right amount of appreciation for my awesome cooking skills and slip in some self-confidence boosting, "Wow, that's how you do it?" comments. Awesome. The wine's good too, but after a while I have to hit the restroom.
Yikes. There it is, staring at me from the shelf over your bathroom sink: your Alpecin Shampoo. Yes, I have noticed your somewhat regressing hair line, but it's not too bad and you have a lot of other cute things going on for you. But this shampoo if forcing me to confront the top of your head.
Ok, I also use some products that are supposed to compensate for my shortcomings, but that shampoo on your shelf is a total turn-off. I feel sorry for your genetic disadvantage and I even feel bad for feeling bad about this. Unfortunately, I can't help it. Every time I look at you now I have to look at your hair (or what's left of it). Even though you're smiling at me and look really cute now, behind that smile your shampoo is staring at me. It says, "Just wait a bit and he's gonna look ten years older." And, there's an image floating around, too, where your pretty smile is surrounded by a monk-like tonsure. Yuck.
So I'm not sure if there will be a next time that I will come over. But if there is, please do me a favor and give your shampoo a hiding spot in some random cupboard. I promise I won't look for it!She totally went there! Ha! We love it!