All right, getting my haircut. Hairs, I guess. Dammit Brian. Do I really need one? I mean, it’s not that bad, right? And it always looks so weird right after it’s cut. Like a monkey. It’s getting in my eyes. Why am I even putting this off? I’m not a child, I can get a haircut, it’s not a big deal. Ahh but it’s just so uncomfortable, and my neck gets so itchy, that blanket thing does absolutely nothing! I’m at the door. Why am I freaking out? I am a grown man dammit.
I can get a haircut.
* * *
Why is this place full of children??? Did I accidentally walk into a children’s hair parlor? Crap, all these parents are going to think I’m a pedophile, who has this thing for children’s hair and I like to put it in my underwear and- Um. Nevermind. Why am I even having thoughts like this? I think something is wrong with me.
There are contemporary music posters on the wall, and adults getting their haircut. I think I’m good. Also… I’ve been here before. Why the hell am I freaking out? Makes no sense, haha. So stupid. It’s still better than my last salon, which was full of old ladies. Although I did get a lot of phone numbers.
“What can I help you with, sir?”
Aw, lady, no you did not.
“I’d, um, like a haircut please”
Duh.
Great. Now I’m the guy who walked in to a barbershop and asked if I could get a haircut. What else was I going to ask for? What did I do to you cashier lady, huh? WHAT DID I DO???
Is that, is that what she thought my name was? I don’t think I mumbled that much, can she not spell? My name is pretty common. Yeah there is no way that word is getting pronounced in any way that even resembles my name a little bit.
A forty-five minute wait? Dammit, I’ve put it off too long to turn back now, I look very sheepdogy. Which some people can pull off. But my hair is just way too poofy. I get this like, coconut look, which is the opposite of appealing. Maybe I can get coffee while I wait? There’s a coffee shop right next door… but no, they might call me early and skip me, or worse I might have coffee in my hand while she’s trying to cut my hair and I will just look like an idiot. What if she’s cute? Can’t look like an idiot if she’s cute. I’ll just sit here I guess. Maybe read a magazine.
* * *
Hmm, all the stylists (stylists, can I call them that? I don’t know if this place is that fancy, but they are all young white girls so I can’t call them barbers, that doesn’t feel right. I’ll stick with stylists) They are all looking at me. Hmm. Maybe I am that attractive. I’ll wink. Mistake, they seem pretty impatient, actually. They are talking, but I don’t think those sounds are language… Ok they mean me right? There’s no one else waiting… definitely my turn.
I want it short on the sides and back, over the ears, longer on top, and I want it layered and thinned. I want it short on the sides and back, over the ears, longer on top, and I want it layered and thinned. I want it short on the sides and back, over the ears, longer on top, and I want it layered and thinned. Boom. I’ve got this down. I’m a haircut pro. I’m going to tell this stylist exactly what I want, and I will get the best haircut of my life. Boom.
“So what are we doing today?”
Oh. Um. Shit. What? What’s going on? Oh shitshitshitshitshit…. What am I supposed to say? Uhhh elephant? No that’s so stupid, I’m so stupid I might as well just put a bucket on my head and paint elephant on it and then grab wooden spoons- . PULL IT TOGETHER MAN. I have nothing, absolutely nothing. Holy crap I have to say something, this silence it getting weird.
“I want it… shorter”
I am stupid.
“Haha, well you will have to be more specific than that. What kind of style are you going for?”
Oh you beautiful woman! Thank you, for giving me the chance to redeem myself! My love for you is everlasting, the universe will implode before the fire in my heart burns out! Your face is forever imprinted on my mind, and in crisp detail I will gaze upon your visage whenever I close my eyes, you lovely delicate being. I promise I will not let you down by being stupidly vague!
“Uh, just like a normal style?”
Crap.
* * *
This is the worst. She’s cutting my hair, I don’t know how it’s going to turn out, and she isn’t saying anything. It’s so weird! I feel like we should be talking, right? Other people are talking to their stylists, did I just get the one who doesn’t talk? Maybe she doesn’t like me, oh God, what did I do? Is there some kind of haircut code that I violated? A standard of conduct I eschewed? Maybe I can start a conversation, it’s not too late.
But what do I say?
There is absolutely no way I am pulling the naïve “How’s the haircut going?” so that’ s out. I know better. Ugh, personal questions are just way too… prying! It has to be small talk, I’m not trying to unearth her entire life story. I’m not the Gestapo. Did the Gestapo ask questions, or did they just kill people? Whatever, I’m not Lifetime trying to find the plot for my next made for TV movie. Much better metaphor. Why is this so difficult? It’s just talking, I talk to people all the time! The weather, can I talk about the weather? What am I going to say? The sun is shining? Horrible. She will probably cut me for that. Never upset a woman with scissors near my neck, my Father always says. I think it’s weird how much he says that. Good advice, yes, but I think he tells me at least once a week. Maybe there is something on her workstation that will help me strike up a conversation… hmm. That sticker is interesting. “Hail Satan, my lover and master” Ah. Um.
* * *
I forgot that this hair salon comes with a free “massage”. I have to accept but… yeah this is weird. She’s rubbing my back with that weird vibrating thing so disinterestedly. Like she is trying very hard to think about anything other than what she is doing. I don’t like it. Am I supposed to enjoy it? It feels sooo good, but I’ll look like a pervert if it looks like I’m enjoying it. I’ll be that guy. I don’t want to be that guy. The massage guy. I’m planning on coming back here. I’ll just sit here uncomfortably, probably? Yeah, that’s a good solution if I ever heard one.
* * *
“All done! How’s it look?”
Oh God I look like a monkey.
“It’s great thank you!”
Oh God I look like a monkey.
“That’ll be 21.50”
Oh God I look like a monkey.
“Here you go, thank you very much!”
Oh God, I look like a monkey.