The Male Ego…

A young woman in her mid-twenties told me I was the most incredible man she had ever met. And…for a few hours I actually believed. I stood in a strange shower the next morning squeezing oddly scented shampoo onto my head, basking in hot water and my own awesomeness…deliberating whether I should go ahead and wash my hair along with the rest of myself, or forgo the hair and not risk freezing my ass off on the winter morning drive down the icy canyon and into work at the fly shop. I decided against it…left my hair dry. Rode down to Boulder in comfort, with a dry head and hot travel mug of coffee handed me by the previously mentioned young woman as I headed out the door. At the shop I was confronted by close friends curious of my mysterious vanishing the previous evening as well as a newly arrived fishing magazine with a big center-piece article about me. An innovative fly tier with deadly and artistic prowess the article claimed. I dodged the questions about my ware bouts the night before and nodded nonchalantly at the magazine, as though it all were fairly commonplace in my life. I am kind of a big deal, I thought to myself. All these people are right. Handsome. Incredible. Talented. And oozing prowess. Then I scratched my head and realized my ball cap had adhered to my scalp. Not due to an ever swelling ego…but because the un-rinsed shampoo from earlier in the morning had hardened and fastened my hat firmly to the top of my head. The guys all pointed and laughed. Aaaaah…the un-graceful crash back to reality!