The Hair Dilemma of 2006 Has Been Solved

I’ve been going to the same hair cutter for a couple of years now. My last hair cutter, Phil, was great. He made me look younger and did such a great job of hiding my receding hair line. I loved Phil, but he vanished on me. Hair cutters tend to do that. Once you nail down a good one, they realize they're good and move on to bigger and better things.

So, being Phil-less, I began the hunt to find a new hair cutter that could do the same miracles Phil could. I was referred by a friend to this one fellow but the place was so extremely hip, noisy, and it made me nervous.

Finally, one day, I just wandered in and found Tikrit. She was from Turkey and could almost do what Phil did. (Actually, her name wasn’t Tikrit, it was Filiz which I could never remember, so I always thought of her as Tikrit since both names have two i’s in them).

Every time I was there getting my hair cut, I’d notice Rob. Rob was your basic, good-looking, effeminate, homosexual hair stylist. Rob looked like he knew what he was doing and he always had a customer in his chair.

I wanted Rob.

I have absolutely nothing against nice Turkish women doing my hair, but when you want a really good hair cut, you want a "Rob" or a "Phil" doing your hair. At least I do.

One day, I just happened to be in the neighborhood and, needing a hair cut, stopped by to see if Tikrit was available. She wasn’t, but Rob was!

Needless to say, Rob did a great job on my hair. It was better than Tikrit ever did.

Here was my dilemma: How would I switch over to Rob without hurting Tikrit’s feelings? And what if I switched over to Rob and Rob left me like Phil did. I couldn’t go skulking back to Tikrit if that happened and I’d truly be in a pickle.

So, I kept going to Tikrit.

That is, until yesterday. I actually made an appointment with Rob. It was a big moment for me.

I was hoping that it would be Tikrit’s day off, but of course, she greeted me at that door. Don’t you hate it when that happens?

Anyway, I told Rob that I wanted to do something different with my hair. I explained the idea I had, he told me his ideas, we consulted, and it came out fantastic.

Of course, Tikrit was at the counter to take my money, so I just smiled really big and said, “You know, I just wanted to try something completely different.” She smiled really big and said “Fuck you,” with a Turkish accent.

No, she said my hair looked great. Which it did. I realized that making the move to Rob was a good idea. I would have never tried a new hair cut with Tikrit because of the language barrier. I just needed a basic, good-looking, effeminate homosexual hair stylist with whom I could use phrases like “whispies” and “wedgy-things” and "scrudge-scrudge" and “fabulous” and he'd know exactly what I was talking about.

When I came in to work today, I got three compliments right away.

Now, you just watch. Next time I need my hair cut, Rob will have abandoned me.

They always do.