The one where the pretty lady stole my hair
I had been meaning to get my increasingly unruly mop of hair chopped off for the last week or so. It had crossed the line from “a bit longer than usual” into “makes you look like a bit of an idiot” territory. Given the slowing of the universe in the hereabouts coinciding with all the children finishing school, I took the opportunity to do something about it.
You know how sometimes the universe lines up? I lucked into just one of those conjunctions today, and ended up with the prettiest girl in the hair salon attempting to do something with my hair. I know, I know – I'm being incredibly unfair to the rest of the staff – they are all pretty, yadda yadda yadda – but she's kind of over that line where I become intimidated, trip over words, and generally become a clumsy idiot.
Except today something weird happened. I didn't struggle to make conversation at all. Within minutes she had begun emptying pretty much the entire contents of her head on me. We talked about all sorts of things – problem customers, the people that turn up moments before the salon closes, how some people don't trust you to cut their hair just the way they want it, how some people want something done that their hair's just going to do... maybe it all happened because I took an interest? I don't really know.
Suddenly she was stopping cutting to talk, making eye contact, laughing, and had relaxed competely – as had I. This isn't the first time this has happened, and I'm wondering if it's something about me that causes it. I've always kind of been the person that ends up with the talkative nutcase sitting next to him on public transport. I'm also the person that typically ends up with everybody's children congregating around at family of friend's gatherings.
Anyway. Hair is gone. I didn't question what she did – I pretty much said to her – “short and scruffy – I'll trust you to decide what to do” – and she smiled. Maybe that's when the guard came down? Who knows.