A Waning Loyalty

VS.

As a little boy my dad would trudge my older brother and I to the classic barbershop on Saturday mornings. There was always a dozen men and boy's with their father's shuffling in and out. To me it seemed as if it was a tradition my father was passing onto to me without uttering a word. It was here I would learn a new swear word or a sexual reference I would not normally hear at the family abode. It was the classic chauvinistic banter you would only hear at barber shops or on a bar stool. To me it did not matter that we spent nearly 2 1/2 hours at the barber, it was more of soaking in the important culture of the barber shop. Drinking coffee, eating doughnuts, and talking about how the local high school football team was going to the Super Bowl. This tradition carried on till I was about 15 and realized the 88 year old barber was a much better story teller than a barber.

I went out on my own and decided to go a barber around the street. Steve, my new barber, gave a great haircut and provided a fairly good conversation. Still a male barbershop, but a little more metro and better haircut. Over the years of being away, I would always stop in for a cut to catch up. Still a great haircut and one of the few loyalties I maintained as an fleeting 20 something, but that was about to change.

During one drunken vaunt through Boston in the fall, my friend and I preceded to a girl's apartment where his flavor of the week and her friend waited. After a few more glasses and wine, I figured out my prospect for the night was a hair stylist. Next thing I know the clippers are out and she is delicately trimming my hair and massaging my head. It was a euphoria... a pretty girl cutting and massaging my head... how have I not had this happen before?! We proceeded to the bed... yatta yatta yatta... woke up the next morning with her remembering very little. I took this as an opportunity to ask her if I was the first Bartholomew she had hooked up with.

This all spurred me to cheat on my beloved barber, Steve and head to the local Super Cuts for a new cut. Waiting patiently, I was appointed a very cute girl to cut my hair. As I fumbled through telling her how I wanted my haircut,  we chuckled and I told her, "I trust your judgement." She eloquently scissor cut the top of my head for 25 minutes and opted for the shampoo for an additional $2 dollars. After the gentle head rub shampoo and flirty exchange, my 40 minutes of euphoria was up. For a minimal $18 dollars plus a hefty tip, it was all worth it to me(Although there is a good chance the flirtation was to spawn the hefty tip.. a minute detail in my mind). I walked out glowing with a new hair cut and pep in my step.

It was with a heavy heart to realize no matter how good of a haircut Steve could give me, the idea of him shampooing my head was never an option. It was not a fair fight. All those countless hours of barber shop loyalty and a father's hard work had been demolished by a girl with a warm smile and gentle hands.