I Used To Have Highlights

Before you read: I tried to find a photo of me with the highlights.  But that was 45 years ago, before cell phones and social media.  No luck.  Apologies…

“The Two Lives We All Live — And the Moment the Second One Begins”

I’ve come to believe that every person — every single one of us — lives two lives.

The first life is the version we show the world.
The polished, socially acceptable, “please-don’t-let-me-look-weird” version.
The version that blends in, makes sense, and stays inside the lines so no one raises an eyebrow.

The second life begins the moment we stop caring about fitting in…
and start caring about being ourselves.

It’s the moment we give ourselves permission to be passionate, quirky, funny, odd, bold, dry-witted, soft-spoken, colorful, or quiet — whatever our particular brand of human is.

Some people call it authenticity.
I call it finally exhaling.

The Life I Showed the World: Trendy Doug, Cool Doug, Fitting-In Doug

In my youth, I lived the first life to its fullest.

I wore the trendy clothes — the bright ones, the bold ones, the “yes, I saw this in a magazine and I’m wearing it” ones.
I had the modern haircuts before anyone else had them.
I even did the highlights.
(Yes. I. Did. The. Highlights.)

I was the early adopter, the guy with the fresh look, the one who tried new styles just because I could.

And honestly?
It was fun.
It was expressive.
It fit the version of me that needed to feel seen.

But that version of me also cared — deeply — about what people thought.
Too much.
More than I ever want to admit.
Everything from my hair to my personality felt like something I had to manage, polish, or adjust.

The Second Life: The Version of Me I Actually Like

Fast-forward to today.

The clothes?
Let’s just say they’re classic.
Traditional.
The kind that “never goes out of style” mostly because they never had a chance to be in style to begin with.

The hair?
Parted.
Simple.
A little silver at the temples.
I was recently told I look like a math professor — which, honestly, feels like an upgrade.

And the funniest part?

While my outside got quieter, my inside got louder.
Not in a dramatic or chaotic way — more like a quiet confidence that whispers:

“This is who I am. Take it or leave it.”

And here’s the kicker:
I think people would be genuinely surprised to know how funny I actually am.

Dry wit.
Quiet humor.
The kind of comedy that sneaks in the back door and taps you on the shoulder five seconds later.

For most of my life, that version stayed tucked away so I could “fit in.”
Now?
He gets to come out and play.

The Real Freedom: Not Being Everyone’s Cup of Tea

The biggest shift — the moment my second life began — was realizing:

I don’t need to be everyone’s cup of tea.
I just need to be mine.

I don’t have to impress strangers.
I don’t have to dress like I’m auditioning for a part I don’t want.
I don’t have to soften who I am to make others more comfortable.

And in business?
This shift has changed everything.

People have literally told me they didn’t call because their home “wasn’t luxury” enough.
They thought my style, my listings, or my brand meant I only helped the ultra-high-end.

Meanwhile, I’m over here thinking:
“I work all price points — and do it quite well. Why didn’t you call?!”

But that’s the thing about first lives:
They make people assume.
Second lives?
They make people feel safe.

When you show up as who you really are — funny, dry, real, approachable — people realize you’re human.
Not perfect.
Not intimidating.
Not unapproachable.
Just… Doug.

The Invisible Agent Lives the Second Life Now

I don’t dress to fit in.
I don’t talk to impress.
I do still hide my humor some (working on that) but don’t hide my age or my gray.
I don’t pretend to be something I’m not.