January 8, 2013

Cheating, Or Another Word For Stylist That Doesn't Make Me Feel Like Justin Bieber

I'm not the person you thought I was. This afternoon I'm cheating. After seven long, wonderful years of joyous follicular partnership, I'm seeing another stylist.

Side note: The word stylist makes me feel like I should be in a boy band or undergoing serious body-waxing procedures. Since I'm neither, we need to come up with a better name for a woman at a salon who cuts guys' hair. I'm throwing my weight behind guylist.

I have a somewhat checkered past with - uh-hum - stylists. For years I went to old school barbers, you know, crusty old guys and their sons who know how to do precisely two haircuts - with clippers or with scissors - and have ancient posters of victorious Super Bowl teams and pinups on their fake wood-paneled walls. Then I saw Frank. Frank was a wonderfully flamboyant man who I incorrectly assumed was gay for quite a number of years. Then I had a two year run with a stylist who a) got a boob job, b) was enthusiastic in her desire to show everyone the results of said boob job, c) married a state trooper, d) had a baby with another man, and e) ran away. Then I found Harriet (which is not her real name no mater how awesomely ironic that would be). Harriet and I had a lot in common and got along famously...until she switched salons a couple months back. And her new salon is probably only ten miles away from my house but in Northern Virginia traffic might as well be on the moon.

Dilemma. Cue 1950's soap opera-style organ music.

Do I stick with Harriet who I know and very much like as both a guylist and friend? Or do I skip the traffic and make an appointment with another guylist at my usual place who was, in fact, trained by Harriet and also cuts Mia's hair? I wrestled for two whole months. And by that I mean procrastinated for two months but finally made the decision to do that last thing.

You should probably know that my appointment was originally scheduled for yesterday afternoon only when I jumped into my car to head to the appointment it wouldn't start. I'm choosing to avoid taking that as some sort of sign.

Posted by Chris at January 8, 2013 7:55 AM

TOO funny.

Love has two. One, his barber, Steve. Steve was in the Marines. He does precisely two haircuts, as you said, but he does them really, really well. He also gives a great, hot, straight edge shave. Love really likes him. They have a ton in common. But.

Love also goes to Sheila. His "hair cutter." He loves Sheila because not only does she give a great cut, she also trims eye brows, ear hair and gives good relationship advice from a woman's point of view.

Posted by: Mindy at January 8, 2013 2:51 PM