I’m in love with anyone who touches my hair

I fall for my hair stylist every time.

I’m never more in love with someone than when that person is cutting my hair. It’s a feeling that washes over me about once every 4-6 weeks. It’s hard to explain but I’m gonna do just that for u. When I moved to Dallas I started going to salons. BUT FOR MEN. They do more than just cut your hair. They give you consultation, cut, wash, massage, and style. It’s amazing. And every girl inside is as beautiful as the next one. They also offer free drinks. Like man beer and man whiskey. And it smells like lumber and hair products. It’s paradise.

I blush when my stylist walks up to me. Something is different. Her rack is huge! No wait those were there last time.. ahh yes, her hair is darker. That’s the first part of my love equation. I love brunettes. Dark hair and pair of legs is all I require. We sit down and she interrogates me, but in a flirty way. I haven’t been to see her in a few months. I’ve gotten 2 haircuts since the last time I saw her at a different salon. They had coupons. But I should have never strayed. My girl is the best. And she likes me.


She asks if I want the usual and I say yes. She remembers me and how I get it cut. The wedding is in October ‘17. She’s an autumn. She asks how work is going and how the wives have been. (Btw, the wives is short for sisterwives. I have a group of 5 friends who call themselves the sisterwives. Paige, Sassy, Cayla, KK, and KT. I tell everyone i ever meet about them bc i love them.) I catch her up quickly. I don’t want to talk. I’m introverted and I want to enjoy this haircut. Let’s not ruin it by talking. However, she’s nice and has interesting things to say so we continue. She grabs the clippers to start on my sides and back/neck. I love this part; it’s always over too quick. The subtle vibration against my skin are euphoric. The slight scraping as she preps the edge on my neckline is the kind of pain you like. It’s how I imagine what getting a tattoo is like, only different. The clippers also catch all of my gray hairs. You heard me — I have gray hairs. Not that many, I’ve named them after all of my friends responsible for them. So if u can count to 3 you have named all of my friends and my gray hairs.


Next up is actual scissors. This is nice bc its more intimate. She’s caressing and tossing my hair. Running her fingers through it to get the perfect height. I know it’s necessary, but sometimes I like to pretend she’s doing it for her. The actually cutting doesn’t take that long, she knows what she’s doing. We’ve been discussing tv series and what she’s going to do on her day off. Turns out she’s also a model on her off days???? Who isn’t nowadays.

We move to the shampooing room. It’s dark and there’s relaxing music playing. We’re talking about her tattoos and who she goes too. I’m into it. I dip my hands is this wax and she wraps my hands up like a mummy and puts oven mitts over the top like I’m a sick freak with adult chickenpox. I’m in the chair now. This is the best part of the whole experience. She shampoos my hair but also massages my head. It’s amazing. She has long nails too so she even scratches me. I am so deep in love now I’m about to say something to her. The way she washes my hair, I feel like I’m being reborn. She rinses and I’m sad. WHEN SUDDENLY, she puts more shit in my hair and starts rubbing me again. There’s no way it could get any better. She’s massaging my head and down my neck firmly, but ever so gentle. Next she wipes this gel all over my face and rubs that a little too. I don’t hate it, I don’t love it. I accept it.

jojook but pretend i am accepting face gel

She places a hot towel around my face leaving just a hose hole. Drizzles something like Vicks vapor rub oil in front and it’s like my first breath all over again. She takes off my chickenpox guards and scrapes the wax off my hand and begins massaging my arm. I thought it was odd that this happens during a haircut, but im not complaining I love this shit. This is a better massage than I got from PBW. After the arm, she works on my hand. This part is tricky for someone as lonely as me. There’s one step in the process when waffles me to stretch my tendons or whatever. But me, being who I am, TOTALLY WAFFLE HER BACK. I’M SUPPOSED TO BE RELAXED AND I GRAB HER HAND LIKE IM FALLING OFF A CLIFF. And I was, that cliff was the cliff of love. She kind of giggles and shakes me loose until I relax and let her finish stretching me. Oh I’m sorry. I’m sorry if our hands are a perfect reverse cast of each other??? Let me apologize if your fingers fit ever so perfectly in mine??? I’ll show myself out.


She moves to start working on my second arm. She leans in and whispers “….cute socks…” I wore them just for her. I remembered she liked elephants, and I happen to have socks with tiny elephants all over them. I’m dating every girl I ever met. She does the other arm and hand.  I had to control myself and actively think, “Do not waffle back, just let her do it”.

mission accomplished

I have to shake loose out of my love stupor as we walk back into the light and she blowdries and styles my hair. She asks what I’m doing the rest of the day. I lie and say going to dinner with friends. Little does she know I’m thinking about her. I made the mistake of mentioning I might start a blog soon. She said she would “totally read it!!” god help me that she never finds this.

She walks me to the front and tells me goodbye. I pay and give her a decent tip. “Always wear shoes in the house.” That was dad joke/tip ok I promise I left her money. I had a coupon. I live in Dallas and life is tight sometimes. I drive home. I start reliving my afternoon and putting it down in words. I have so much going on in my mind right now. But the only thing sticking out (well, not the ONLY thing) is that it’s gonna be 4-6 weeks until I can see her again.

*cue that see you again song about paul walker dying but it actually makes me cry because i think of sadie my dog dying*

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