Day 4 and the backseat hairdresser

Dear Object of my Future Affections –

Okay, chances are that what I’m about to say won’t apply to you, directly, because I’ll probably end up being the one to cut your hair anyway but regardless, I have a bone to pick with you and your fellow Y chromosomes.




Grown ass man. You are an adult and, I assume, fully capable of making decisions (if you are, in fact, not an adult – or over the age of 16 – you are welcome to ignore the rest of this rant; it’s not really directed at you). You pick out (again, I am only assuming here…) your own socks, underwear, restaurant menu items, books, magazines, potato chip flavors, EVERY. SINGLE. DAY of your life.

What’s more, you look at yourself in a mirror, every single day. You comb your hair (almost) every day (no, I get it…that‘s why hats were invented…well, really it was to provide protection from the elements but covering unkempt hair is definitely a bonus). You shampoo it. You. Again, YOU deal with it. All the time. It’s your freaking hair.

Please. I implore you. Please don’t bring your wife or girlfriend (or mother…maybe that’s a different discussion) to the hair salon (slash barber shop – does that happen?) to tell us how to cut your hair. I paid damned near $20,000 to learn how to cut hair. I cut the hair of 10-20 people a day, four or five days a week. I am completely aware that the hair over your ears grows…over your ears…and that sideburns and necklines need to be cut as well.

I’ll say this one more time, in case you missed it the first time. You are a grown ass adult. Maybe the last person who cut your hair, “just cut it.” I can work through a few questions to find out what needs to be done to get you back to where you were the last time. Maybe you aren’t particular. I can work through a few questions…well, you get the idea. The point is, as an adult, explaining what you want to achieve from a simple trip to get a haircut should definitely be within your skill set, wheelhouse, pay grade, however you choose to word it.

And a post script to the ladies on the other side of this discussion –

He is an adult. I get that you like to look at a clean cut fellow, or that you want something you can get your fingers in. So you tell him that. He can pass that along to me. I can use that as a jumping off point. Granted, when he says, “My wife likes it a little longer,” I will put him in the same category in my brain as women who say that about their husbands as a rationale (see also: excuse) not to do something they want to do, or to keep doing the same thing regardless of how many people encourage them to try something new, but that’s a different rant for a different day.

If it’s a question of trust, leave me out of it. Whether you don’t trust him to get your instructions straight or don’t trust him around other women is none of my business but I don’t need you backseat hairdressing. If it’s a question of me being a fun, friendly, and damned cute girl who spends 8 hours a day chatting with people (translation: your mister might be the cat‘s pajamas but I am not – and probably have no interest in – flirting with him), send him to the barber. If it’s a question of him not getting the “right” haircut, I honestly think you have bigger problems than just bushy sideburns.

Get a grip on yourself – loosen your grip on him – and let me do my job.

A second p.s. to you who were addressed at the top of this letter –

Yes. I will cut your hair for you. I will cut your hair in the kitchen, the bathroom, the backyard, the salon, whatever. I will offer opinions and tell you that I dig a clean cut pompadour just as much as an unruly mop with a life of its own, as long as A. you like whatever you’ve chosen to wear and B. you can rock it (trust me, I’ve seen a few pompa-don’ts). But I will not make decisions for you. I will let you grow it to your knees before I tell you what to do. It’s your hair. You are the one who has to live with it and deal with it every day.

Yes, I am growing out my own hair because of a conversation regarding pixie cuts but that was my choice…a choice that has since become a challenge to see just how stubborn and bull-headed I really can be about something, but a choice all the same. And I won’t take that choice away from anyone else, please don’t ask me to. And, for the record, it’s only “fun” to completely take the reins on a haircut, when the person has opinions and can answer questions about what they do or don’t want… Full, unabashed freedom over something so heavily tied to a person’s identity, over something they have to live with every day, something they have to deal with if they hate it, is terrifying to someone as controlling and high strung as me.


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