The Haircut

I have an appointment to get my hair cut this afternoon.

I’m seeing a new hair cutter now. The last one I had, Rob, just up and left on me. Hair cutters are like that, you know.

Rob did a super-fantastic job on my hair. I really liked getting my hair cut by Rob because he was your typical honest-to-goodness homosexual hair cutter like God intended. Rob also worked in the homosexual hair-styling section of Chicago. I always say, if you want style, go to the source.

But like all good stylists, they find better places to work.
And he’s gone.

There are a whole bunch of shops in the lobby of the building where I work and I noticed a hair styling place down there recently. It turns out that the woman who owns it works alone and has been there for about fifteen years.

Shirley may not be “Rob”. She’s not a homosexual man, so naturally, she can’t do as good of a job as Rob.

But Shirley has two things going for her that I really like.

1. She’s close. I don’t have to make a special trip to the homosexual hair-styling section of Chicago to get my hair cut. I just stop by on my way out of my office.

2. She’s been there for a long time. I don’t think Shirley will up-and-move away on me anytime soon.

One thing I don’t like about Shirley is that she talks incessantly. I’m not one to enjoy small talk and inane banter that many hair cutters are wont to do.
Yap yap yap. . .

Also, I absolutely love the feeling of getting my hair cut. For someone to touch my hair is an absolute ecstatic experience for me. Really. If I shut my eyes while someone’s touching my hair, I’ll practically have an out-of-body experience. . . .

. . . And then, I’m zapped out of it by Shirley commenting on this-and-that. I just want to tell her, “Hey, Shirley. Sweetheart. This isn’t A Night at the Improv. Just do my hair.”

But Shirley really is a nice woman and I’m glad she’s here.

Still, it would be a perfect world if she hired Rob. . .