Airing my Philthy Laundry

The life of a hair cut tramp.

I got a very creepy hair cut today. I went to my usual place, the Hair Cuttery, but got the one guy that I pray I never get when I go in there. You may remember from "Creepy Poems" the one other time I had Elliott cut my hair. He looks a little different now, one more facial piercing, his hair is platinum blond now instead of orange. He kind of resembles a lost member of Motley Crew, or at least the guy who put all that makeup on Vince Neil.
Elliott called my name and I walked back to his chair. I sit down and he says "Hello, my name is Elliott. How may I service you." Already, I'm creeped out, but I try to forget it. I tell him how I want my hair cut and he goes at it. He tries to make small talk, which I'm horrible at when I'm nervous, so I shoot out a lot of one word answers that don't make a lot of sense:

"So do you live in the neighborhood?"
"Yes"
"How long have you lived in Chicago?"
"Two"
"Where are you originally from?"
"Down"
"So you don't have to work today, huh? What do you do?"
"Job...Travel...Off"

He eventually gives up and we move on to the post-trim, pre-cut, shampoo time. I lay on those weird chairs with my head in a sink looking up at Elliott has he tells me how I have really pretty hair. I just sit there, uncomfortable while he massages my scalp with soapy hands.
When we get back to the chair for round two he tells me how much he likes my flip-flops. "Are they from the GAP," he asks? "Yeah," I respond, wishing I shopped at Farm & Fleet instead of the GAP. "I thought so," he says, "they're so bright and colorful." Then he goes on and on about how a couple years ago men never wore flip flops; how they never showed their toes. And now they're everywhere. He just loves to see on the fun flip-flop designs and see everyone's feet.
It's at this point that I'm nodding along but secretly thinking:

Should I make a run for it, just get out now? No I can't. My hair's half cut and he has scissors...what if he attacks me. Just keep nodding, it'll be over soon.

He gets back to cutting my hair and finishes. He asks me if it's the right length, and even though it wasn't as short as I wanted, I say it's perfect...just so I can get out of there.

He asks if I want another wash or some product in my hair...I cut him off with a louder than appropriate "NO." I pay, and leave...it's finally over.

This little escapade was probably not as bad as I think. I mean the guy was just trying to make conversation, and he was nice...I guess. But this is what happens when you don't have a steady barber. You go around from stylist to stylist, spending 20 minutes with them, and then you never talk to them again. And how awkward is it when you bump into them again...jeesh. It makes me long for the days when I had a steady barber. The security of knowing who's hands would handle my follicles. The unspoken bond that we'd have...and how I would feel so horrible when I would let someone else cut my hair. I'd be riddled with guilt for weeks, unable to sleep. Sure it was an adventure having someone new, but was it worth it in the end? Knowing that I'd betrayed my barber. I'd go back and get the "It's been a while...you seeing someone else?" joke from them, but deep down I knew that they knew. We both knew.

I need to get things back on track, finally settle down with one barber, and stop these shenanigans once and for all. Not only for my own good, but for my hair.

posted by philthy @ 2:32 PM