She feared that her husband’s new hairdo signaled his conversion to some kind of ultra-religious Buddhist. During the five and half years since she first met Carlos, she had quit smoking and become an aspiring vegetarian. But she wasn’t about to become any more Buddhist than that, even if she liked the religion as a philosophy.“What’s with the hair and the dog?” she asked.“I did it for some friends,” Carlos said. “It’s a long story.”Carolina furrowed her brow suspiciously.Later that night, she strategically resumed her interrogation in the midst of Carlos’s blissful post-coital languor. “So tell me about these friends of yours, mi amor.”Carlos knew, as a general matter, that there is no worse time for a man to answer probing questions from a woman than two minutes after she has sated him, when her soft cheek is resting on his warm chest. But he was so tired and happily carefree at that moment that he thoughtlessly dropped his guard, figuring that he would have to tell her everything sooner or later, and the longer he waited, the worse her reaction would be.So he came clean about his group of friends.
