Cuts (and more?)

Moving to a new city, there are certain changes to your daily, weekly, or monthly routine that are almost inevitable. New coffee shop. New place to go running. New bank. Or at least new branch. And on and on. These might seem insignificant, but can take a little getting used to, at the least.

Moving here, I had to find a new place to get my hair cut. I had started going to one place here with a couple of really hot girls. Isn’t that the first thing you look for? But, alas, it went out of business. And I don’t know where they ended up. So one day I ventured into another place in town, located in a small plaza, just between a drug store and tax service. I had called ahead to see if they accepted walk-ins, and the lady assured me they did.

As I walked in, a quick scan of the place revealed two ladies and two men working there. Before I got three steps in the door, one of the men, who was sitting in his chair, got up and asked, “Can I help you?” Now, let me insert here, that I have not had my hair cut by a man since… I don’t even remember when. I think I must have been in my late teens or early twenties. It’s been years. But honestly, I didn’t think that much about it. After all, it’s just a haircut. I’m just getting a trim to test out this place. Oh, if I’d only known…

So sitting there, I placed my arms on the armrests of the chair, he draped that big hair shield over me, and I’m ready to go. As I continued to observe, a couple of NAW mothers (Non-Acronym Worthy) brought their kids in and were sitting just across the room from me waiting their turn. The kids were probably seven or eightish. I really don’t know. My point is, I would classify this as a family place.

Anyhow, as many hair stylists tend to be I suppose, this guy was a chatter. And as there was a hair dryer going and clippers and such, he was having to talk rather loudly. The conversation somehow turned to Nashville, and he began to tell about the time that he and his wife and two friends of theirs went to a strip club there. So he is telling this story about what happened. I don’t even remember now. But I’m sitting there thinking, “Isn’t this a little bit inappropriate in front of children?” So I don’t say much, and try to change the subject at the first opportunity.

Then, a couple of minutes later, it happened. He comes around to my right side, and somehow his midsection comes to rest snuggly against my right arm. I freeze! As luck would have it, the height of the chair perfectly(?) combined with his height to make this situation absolutely as awkward as possible. How do I get myself into these situations? Will somebody please tell me?

As you can imagine, I’m very uncomfortable right about now. Getting a haircut is a rather stationary, still activity anyway. But at this point, I’m not even sure whether or not I’m still breathing. I don’t want to jerk away immediately, because then he’ll know I’m uncomfortable. And that would just make it doubly awkward. Besides, maybe he’s not uncomfortable at all. Maybe he hasn’t even given it a second thought. Then I think, maybe he’s a little too comfortable. Yikes! Mommy!

So he stands there, pressed up against me for what felt like (is that the best phrase to use here?) several thousand extremely awkward non-hetero hours. But was probably, in reality, fifteen or twenty seconds. I’m still frozen stiff, like a customer in a barber shop wax museum. Finally, at long last, he moved. Away from my arm, that is. And I was able to exhale, and gradually ease my arms off the armrests and into my lap, where I knew they would be much safer.

Again, I’m used to having girls give me hair cuts. When they rub up against me, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I actually rather enjoy it. I prefer it. But this was different. This just left me feeling… violated.

Perhaps they need a warning sign like they have at amusement park rides. Please keep your arms and legs inside the chair at all times.

So I’m thinking of letting my hair grow out. At least until I can ensure an environment with a female to male ratio of X:0. Where X is a variable, representing the number of females, and 0 is a constant, representing the number of males.

“I’m open, you’re closed. Where I follow, you’ll go. I worry I won’t see your face light up again…”

Cuts (and more?)

Moving to a new city, there are certain changes to your daily, weekly, or monthly routine that are almost inevitable. New coffee shop. New place to go running. New bank. Or at least new branch. And on and on. These might seem insignificant, but can take a little getting used to, at the least.

Moving here, I had to find a new place to get my hair cut. I had started going to one place here with a couple of really hot girls. Isn’t that the first thing you look for? But, alas, it went out of business. And I don’t know where they ended up. So one day I ventured into another place in town, located in a small plaza, just between a drug store and tax service. I had called ahead to see if they accepted walk-ins, and the lady assured me they did.

As I walked in, a quick scan of the place revealed two ladies and two men working there. Before I got three steps in the door, one of the men, who was sitting in his chair, got up and asked, “Can I help you?” Now, let me insert here, that I have not had my hair cut by a man since… I don’t even remember when. I think I must have been in my late teens or early twenties. It’s been years. But honestly, I didn’t think that much about it. After all, it’s just a haircut. I’m just getting a trim to test out this place. Oh, if I’d only known…

So sitting there, I placed my arms on the armrests of the chair, he draped that big hair shield over me, and I’m ready to go. As I continued to observe, a couple of NAW mothers (Non-Acronym Worthy) brought their kids in and were sitting just across the room from me waiting their turn. The kids were probably seven or eightish. I really don’t know. My point is, I would classify this as a family place.

Anyhow, as many hair stylists tend to be I suppose, this guy was a chatter. And as there was a hair dryer going and clippers and such, he was having to talk rather loudly. The conversation somehow turned to Nashville, and he began to tell about the time that he and his wife and two friends of theirs went to a strip club there. So he is telling this story about what happened. I don’t even remember now. But I’m sitting there thinking, “Isn’t this a little bit inappropriate in front of children?” So I don’t say much, and try to change the subject at the first opportunity.

Then, a couple of minutes later, it happened. He comes around to my right side, and somehow his midsection comes to rest snuggly against my right arm. I freeze! As luck would have it, the height of the chair perfectly(?) combined with his height to make this situation absolutely as awkward as possible. How do I get myself into these situations? Will somebody please tell me?

As you can imagine, I’m very uncomfortable right about now. Getting a haircut is a rather stationary, still activity anyway. But at this point, I’m not even sure whether or not I’m still breathing. I don’t want to jerk away immediately, because then he’ll know I’m uncomfortable. And that would just make it doubly awkward. Besides, maybe he’s not uncomfortable at all. Maybe he hasn’t even given it a second thought. Then I think, maybe he’s a little too comfortable. Yikes! Mommy!

So he stands there, pressed up against me for what felt like (is that the best phrase to use here?) several thousand extremely awkward non-hetero hours. But was probably, in reality, fifteen or twenty seconds. I’m still frozen stiff, like a customer in a barber shop wax museum. Finally, at long last, he moved. Away from my arm, that is. And I was able to exhale, and gradually ease my arms off the armrests and into my lap, where I knew they would be much safer.

Again, I’m used to having girls give me hair cuts. When they rub up against me, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I actually rather enjoy it. I prefer it. But this was different. This just left me feeling… violated.

Perhaps they need a warning sign like they have at amusement park rides. Please keep your arms and legs inside the chair at all times.

So I’m thinking of letting my hair grow out. At least until I can ensure an environment with a female to male ratio of X:0. Where X is a variable, representing the number of females, and 0 is a constant, representing the number of males.

“I’m open, you’re closed. Where I follow, you’ll go. I worry I won’t see your face light up again…”