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Friday I went to the barbershop for a haircut. It was the second time I have been to this particular barbershop. The first time I went there, a woman cut my hair, and I thought it was the best haircut I had had in forever.
In this barbershop, there is a mounted deer head (common in barbershops around here), hunting/fishing prints on the walls, magazines. A table with kids stuff for t he kids to play with. Friday, I noticed there was a back room with a pool table.
So Friday I went back. This time she wasn't there, it was only the owner. As a matter of fact, when I walked in, he was the only person in the shop.
I forget exactly what it was he said first. "Ready for a haircut?" Yeah, that was probably it. And then there was something else he said, I don't remember, but anyway, by sentence two, I was picking up a little bit of a "queer" vibe, and so, in return, I was a little "relaxed" myself. Not hitting on him, mind you, just a little relaxed.
At no point did I have any intention of flirting with him, and I didn't feel interested in him. I just wanted a haircut.
This guy is probably a couple years older than me (mid-40's). There was that hint of a "gay accent." I got the impression he had been tanning. He had a good barber's ability to press his hand firmly on your shoulder, etc. I asked where his partner was; he said he'd sent her home, sick. I told him I thought she'd given me the best haircut i'd gotten in a long time, and so he started talking about how, yeah, he'd had to teach her how to "blend," and how not every barber actually knew how to cut hair, and how he'd lost a job at another shop because an older, inferior barber had accused him of "stealing" clients.
And, about how all those problems of finding a place to work, and getting his own shop, and then finding a second barber who knew how to cut hair, had all been worth it because this had all lead him to find the love of his life, the wpman he had married, when he was 45.
"I was a confirmed batchelor. When I started telling people I was getting married, they were all, 'No, not you!'" and then blah blah blah "best thing in my life ever," "best thing in my life ever," "best thing in my life ever," "best thing in my life ever," "best thing in my life ever."
I had briefly thought about mentioning my boyfriend early on, but gave up on that pretty quick. I quickly got to the point where I was thinking "will you just STFU and cut my hair?"
It wasn't nearly as good as the haircut the other barber had given me.
During his discourse about his wife, and about various positive things he was trying to do, I kept on saying, "yeah, that's great," and "yeah, that's the right way to go about life," and etc. And actually, more power to him. However, it seems "obvious" to me that this guy was "queer." While I totally accept the idea that, WHATEVER, getting married to this woman was probably a great thing for him to do, I couldn't help wondering, "Just what the hell is this conversation all about? Does he tell this story to everyone who sits down in this chair?"
I think, if I go back there, I'm going to make sure that the *other* barber is there, and I'm going to wait for her.
So what about it, boys and girls? Barbershops? Encounters with ambiguous guys where they talk about their wonderful, late-married wives?
In this barbershop, there is a mounted deer head (common in barbershops around here), hunting/fishing prints on the walls, magazines. A table with kids stuff for t he kids to play with. Friday, I noticed there was a back room with a pool table.
So Friday I went back. This time she wasn't there, it was only the owner. As a matter of fact, when I walked in, he was the only person in the shop.
I forget exactly what it was he said first. "Ready for a haircut?" Yeah, that was probably it. And then there was something else he said, I don't remember, but anyway, by sentence two, I was picking up a little bit of a "queer" vibe, and so, in return, I was a little "relaxed" myself. Not hitting on him, mind you, just a little relaxed.
At no point did I have any intention of flirting with him, and I didn't feel interested in him. I just wanted a haircut.
This guy is probably a couple years older than me (mid-40's). There was that hint of a "gay accent." I got the impression he had been tanning. He had a good barber's ability to press his hand firmly on your shoulder, etc. I asked where his partner was; he said he'd sent her home, sick. I told him I thought she'd given me the best haircut i'd gotten in a long time, and so he started talking about how, yeah, he'd had to teach her how to "blend," and how not every barber actually knew how to cut hair, and how he'd lost a job at another shop because an older, inferior barber had accused him of "stealing" clients.
And, about how all those problems of finding a place to work, and getting his own shop, and then finding a second barber who knew how to cut hair, had all been worth it because this had all lead him to find the love of his life, the wpman he had married, when he was 45.
"I was a confirmed batchelor. When I started telling people I was getting married, they were all, 'No, not you!'" and then blah blah blah "best thing in my life ever," "best thing in my life ever," "best thing in my life ever," "best thing in my life ever," "best thing in my life ever."
I had briefly thought about mentioning my boyfriend early on, but gave up on that pretty quick. I quickly got to the point where I was thinking "will you just STFU and cut my hair?"
It wasn't nearly as good as the haircut the other barber had given me.
During his discourse about his wife, and about various positive things he was trying to do, I kept on saying, "yeah, that's great," and "yeah, that's the right way to go about life," and etc. And actually, more power to him. However, it seems "obvious" to me that this guy was "queer." While I totally accept the idea that, WHATEVER, getting married to this woman was probably a great thing for him to do, I couldn't help wondering, "Just what the hell is this conversation all about? Does he tell this story to everyone who sits down in this chair?"
I think, if I go back there, I'm going to make sure that the *other* barber is there, and I'm going to wait for her.
So what about it, boys and girls? Barbershops? Encounters with ambiguous guys where they talk about their wonderful, late-married wives?
