As I’ve been told before, and something I freely admit to, I’m metro. I’m a totally heterosexual man who takes the manscaping very seriously. I get manicures, and when the mood strikes me, pedicures. I wear cologne every day. I trim my beard and shave every other day. I shower often and am generally clean and nice smelling. And I don’t go to barbers. I go to a stylist.
Granted, there’s not much to work with. My luxurious black hair began to slowly thin at 24. it wasn’t until 30 or so that I began to accept it (I’m also a tad vain). Family genetics indicate I’ll never go totally bald, but nevertheless, my forehead will slowly continue to claim more and more cranial real estate. It is what it is.
Given that I don’t have much of it, I’m still pretty fussy about my hair. It may be thin, but it’s also still prone to shitty haircuts. I had a stylist I went to, but she’s gone. So about a month ago I got a haircut by a woman around my age. She was chatty and fun to talk to, but most of all she made my hair look great. I told her so and I tipped her well. She gave me her business card. I was psyched to find someone who gets my hair.
Yesterday I needed a haircut. I then remembered that she gave me her business card. While in the car, I called her. I dialed the number. It rang. “Hello?” she replied. I was a bit confused because I expected to hear “Thank you for calling C&C Salon, how may I help you?” Apparently she had given me her personal cell number. Stammering, I said, hi, my name is Patrick, you cut my hair about a month ago.. to which she cut me off “Yes! You have the beard and the neck surgery, right?” surprised, and a bit complimented that she remembered me, I said yes, and asked her if she could cut my hair. She then told me the story of how she left the salon due to “drama”, was at another salon, then left that one, etc. I told her I was sorry for her troubles, and thanked her for her time. She then asked me where I was. I told her I was on Rt.9.
"Really? come to my house! I’ll cut your hair! I’ll open a bottle of wine and we can hang out! It’s just me here today!"
As I was proofreading the “Dear Penthouse Forum, you wouldn’t believe what happened to me this afternoon..!” letter I had just crafted in the millisecond after she said that, I actually felt.. creeped out. I didn’t want any part of this for many reasons, mainly that I’m simply not available. I politely declined, bade her farewell and drove straight to the nearest Supercuts.
Besides, in my younger days I dated a girl who was attending a beauty school. But that’s another story.
So anyway, my hair looks pretty good.