The Haircut I Just Got

For years I went to Supercuts where stoned trainees would take one look at my cowlick and panic and shave all my hair off and ruin my chances with the ladies for like six weeks j/k I have never known the touch of a woman aside from a sympathetic pat on the shoulder accompanied by the words yeah no.

I then decided to man up and go to an old school barber. I liked to pretend I was on my lunchbreak from a high-powered company that did business. Just, like, business all day long. I paged through a Playboy from 1979 and thought If Bill doesn’t get his act together we’re going to lose that business account and he’ll get fired and I won’t be able to bang his wife because he’ll be home all the time BOO HISS.

I tell the blind ancient barber I want the Tough But Fair Assistant VP—

—and he shaves all my hair off. Then he fires up the hot lather machine for a happy ending, his shaking palsied hands burrowing deep into the tension knots in my neck.

I run home and take a cry-shower and decide from now on I’m going to a ladies’ salon where they know how to cut hair. It’s over on 17th by Steuben’s. I go at night because it’s sexier. I’m on the way to Club Awesome, I think, where I will throw my dirty martini in the face of a skank. The gay receptionist admires my punctuality, gaily.

My stylist shampoos my hair and makes small talk that floats away into the conditioned air. She cuts with icy precision. Her brow furrows for a moment but then she says There! and the cowlick is dealt with. Professionally.

I head outside and breathe in the cold clear night air. I feel fantastic. Someone passes me on the sidewalk and I give them a tight little smile, like: Cheer up, bitch.

» Rating: SEVEN SEXY LADIES