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No talking barber by Mike S.


I'm David, 22 years old and this is how i became a real man.
I grew up in a small, but busy, town with few shops, restaurants and bars.

I've always been fascinated with hair, or to be more precise: short hair, VERY short hair.
Since i was about 12 i dreamed about having a short buzzcut. The way it looked... so manly, strong and pragmatic.
I asociate it with the military and though fathers, who like to have a strict policy on their sons haircut.
But my father isn't a big fan of the military and liked to see very casual hairstyles on me. But i did not!
I wanted to be told to have short hair! To have more strictness... and i never did go through some rebellious phase... because i never had anything to opose against.
Beenig sent to boot camps or punished for some kind of bad behavior never happend to me, but i felt like it should be part of growing up and becoming a man.

I was 18 when i started doing real decisions in my own live:
Where to work, what car to drive, how to spent my income and so on. I know everyone can relate to how freeing that time feels like.
But there was one thing i didn't realy took in my own hands and was a remanacenc of my childhood: my own hair!

I liked the freedom of beeing an adult, but there was this one thing, that makes me shake by excitement: the short, and somehow forced, hairstyle i always wanted.
My hole live i visited the hairdresser in the middle of the town. I always left with a haircut i didn't like: too casual and unmilitary.

One day i decided it was haircut time!
No more standard haircuts and stuff!
I would ask my hairdresser for a buzzcut, #4, #3 or even shorter, i thought.
And ignore any questions like "Are u sure?" or "Realy?"
I don't want to have to ask for it!
And in the end he will leave it longer than i said, because the change should not be to radical in his mind or something!

When i reached the shop i thought that if i went in, i will not receive the forced buzzcut i was craving for.
I was angrily walking up and down the street, not entering.
But then a guy in my age, with a very short buzz walked past me. He looked down on the sidewalk and not very comfortable with his haircut.
I couldn't resist but to turn around and take a long look at his shorn head.
'Wow! I wished i could be him! It was obviously not his decision.', I thought.
My legs started moving by themselves. I wanted to have the same so badly!
I walked up to him.

'Hi! I have a question', I said.
He turned around, but looking shy on the ground.
'Yes?', he asked.
'Where did u get your haircut?' I asked, not totaly reconizing in that moment, how weird it was to ask that.
He looked very uncomfortable and said: 'It was an old barbershop next town. My father sent me there'
I must have started smiling and asked for a more precise description where to find it.

I thanked him, taking a last look on his haircut, which i will sport soon too!
Full of excitment i ran to my car, started the engine with shivering hands.
I was so nervous, it was unbelievable. When i arrived at the location, it took me a few moments to spot the barbershop i was looking for.
It was tiny and old, sitting between two other shops. All very clean and nothing much to see, but two chairs and a middle-aged barber, waiting for someone to come in.
I slowly walk towards the door.
What an intense moment. My deepest desire is now going to become true behind that door.
When he noticed i was entering his shop, he looked at me, not making any facial expressions.
'Please' he said, comanding me with his hand to a chair.
I obeyd, thinking that this is exactly how i wanted to be treated. This is too good to be true!

I sat down, not able to say anything, but luckily noone wanted me to say anything.
In front of me, clippers and guard were orderly placed on the table.
Then it came to me: There are only small guards!
I wasn't able to think much, but i'm pretty sure that the biggest one was a #4!
Then the barber picked up a clipper from table and oiled it.
I was in complete trance watching him through the mirror.
Then he looked at the guards. Then at me again. I quickly looked away to avoid eye contact.
He must have noticed that. It was a sign of shyness, guilt and respect.
He looked at me for about 10 seconds, as if i had done something wrong.
I was intimidated and looked an the floor.
Again a quick look at the guards, at me again, slowly shaking his head.
He made a step towards me from the back, turned on the clippers, grabbed my head and pulled it backwards.
Next he placed the naked blades on my forehead and started shearing my hair right down the middle.
I couldn't think at that moment.
I saw a path of stubble left on my head where he moved the blades.
Then, with a concentrated look and firm pressure he moved my head slightly to the left, starting a new line a bit to the right of the first one.
Then again a bit more to the right, still on the top of my head.
He pushed my head very harshly to the right and continued on the other side.
At that moment my head was only cover with stubble on top.
Next he gave my head another, even harder push, so my left cheer was looking upwards.
So he could shear away the hair on that side going upwards with the blades and connecting with the stubble on top.
Next he grabbed my head very tightly on the shorn top moving it then slowly from right to left, pressing my chin into my chest, while making continuesly strokes around to the top.
It was hard to see the mirrors image in that position, so i had to feel.
When he reached the other side, i was completly shorn, only stubble remaining.
His hand let loose and i wanted to take a look at myself so i raised my head.
But then he pushed my head very harshly forward again.
I shouldn't move until he tells me to!
But i was able to have a quick look and it looked amazing: Like a recruit beeing taken away his right to have hair!
The barber put the clipper back where they layed in the first place and opend a drawer.
He took a spray can out and something else i couldn't see.
He stepped again behind me and started swipping away some of the sheard off hair from my scalp. It felt absolutly awesome!
Then he used the spray can to wet my head. Oh my... he is going to...!!!
Yes, he rubbed my head for a few seconds to feel if the hair is softened by the water, whil i was still looking downwards.
He started spinning my chair half a turn, so i was facing away from the mirror. That was deliberate. I had no idea how i looked.
My head was lifted so it was straight. Then i felt his hand from behind stretching my skin on the forehead.
And there it was: I felt a straight razor touching my head!
Stroke by stroke my scalp was shaved to the skin.
He was conibuesly stretching my skin with is fingers so he sometimes touched the already shaved parts of it.
It felt surreal! I love it!!! More i wasn't able to think.
He performed the shaving the exact some order, the shearing was: First top, then sides and back.
Obediently i moved my head the way he wanted it, but he kept on holding it very thightly.
When he was finished. He let loose, put away the razor, dryed me with a twel and stept right in front of me.
I knew i had no right to turn around and see at the mirror. I stood up looking down.
No eye contact. I took out my wallet and gave him 20$.
He nooded, without any expression and i left the barber shop as a man.



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