A New Man by AHM

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I was new to the area, working towards a master’s. Unreasonably long reading segments for each class had thrown a wrench in my normal academic life, and as I had always relied on reading every word to feel prepared for classes, I was beginning to slip on those important little self care rituals I had so meaningfully built in college, one of which was a monthly appointment with my barber. I felt isolated, and my hair, once a stylish quiff and now an unkempt mass that covered my ears, eyes, and neck, reflected it. In an effort to counteract the mental direction in which this approach led me, I finally decided to reach out to the first interesting looking person I saw in the library during a study break.

That person happened to be Mark. Seated at the table next to mine in the most perfect-fitting jeans and linen buttonup, it was just luck that we made great conversation with each other. Over the next two months, in part because our conversations spanned many a philosophical and winding topic, I learned that he was a math student by day, guitarist by night, and weight lifter by morning. His immediate family lived in the next town, and he was the kind of son who ran home to bring his little sister a fuzzy blanket and a cup of cocoa if she was feeling down.

We bonded over studies, music, and cooking, among many other things. Our occasional disagreements served to help us understand one another rather than to make us butt heads, and we had fun exposing one another to our different passions. Of late, he really wanted to take me to the gym sometime, and I wanted to teach him to dance, and we both obliged to do so over winter break…which was approaching all too quickly.

It was Friday, and I had just received an engraved invite to my cousins’ winter party. They lived nearby, and while I couldn’t wait to see some of my family after a semester in this new setting, I knew they were a more formal bunch than I was used to. I was expected to have a suit and tie ready, and to look well groomed for a night of social dance and live music. And the only issue was that the party was in three days, I didn’t know a single barber in the area, and the hair had gotten even worse. The perfectionist in me started to attack my value as a person. "Darn it Daniel, this is what happens when you don’t do the bare minimum to take care of yourself," I thought.

Mark picked up on my nerves the next day, and I said I had a small favor to ask of him.

"Do you know of a barber around here who would take me as soon as possible? I have a formal party to go to on Monday, and I need to look less a mess."

"You could try Claud’s, just two blocks from here, or I actually have a lot of experience hairdressing in my own home, and I’d be happy to clean you up if you like."

"Ya don’t say. Do you have any examples of your work?"

"Sure," Mark took out his phone. "Here’s my little cousin who’s twelve. I did his hair for his mom’s wedding."

He showed me a picture of a sweet looking boy in a navy suit and tie, his straight light brown cut into in impressively impeccable skin fade with a perfectly textured crop on top.

"Wow he looks great; where’d you learn to do that?"

"Taught myself I guess. Money’s often been tight in our household."

"That’s amazing; I’d be honored to have my hair cut by you. What would I owe you?"

"Oh don’t worry about it, it’s no trouble. You could come over tonight if you like; I’ve got some farmers market goodies if you want to cook dinner together and then we could cut and style you afterwards, and you’d be all set for your event."

"That sounds awesome, oh my goodness. I’d love to. At least let me reimburse you for ingredients?"

"That’s nice of you, I accept."

"Great, what time?"

"Six maybe?"

"Ok, I’ll see you then."

Six neared, and I spiffed myself up a little with my nicer henley shirt, pea coat, and scarf and started to his house. The frigid wind whipped at my nape and cheek, even with the mullet that had quickly formed over the past months. At his door, I felt a stir that I couldn’t quite decode, so I ignored it and knocked. His playful face greeted me, alighted in contrast to our gray-blue surroundings.

"Hi Daniel! Come in you look so cold," his voice really comforted me.

"Hi, thanks!" I entered into a simple room of warm wooden furniture, soft chairs, a single jar candle burning on the table, and I happily began to thaw. He took my coat and hung it on a hook by the door, then offered me a seat.

"Would you like some tea before we make dinner? I was just having this apricot cardamom."

"You read my mind."

"Oh perfect, here you go," he poured me a mug. We caught up a little before he beckoned me into the small kitchen. He opened the fridge and produced a small bag of purple potatoes, a box of chanterelle mushrooms, a red cabbage, some onions, and some handmade sausages wrapped in brown paper.

"Sorry this is all the winter farmers market has to offer. How do you think we should cook these?"

"Mark, the fact that you found local ingredients is a miracle in itself. Maybe sauté the cabbage and onions until they brown and then just braise everything together?"

"I’ve never braised anything, so I’m all in as long as you show me how."

"Ok! It’s honestly so easy, you just cook everything covered."

We made a beautiful braise and enjoyed it by the light of that candle, talking about our families’ holiday traditions until Mark paused to ask me how I wanted my hair.

"Honestly it’s been so long I’m not sure. I need to look formal for them, and my old long quiff would work for that, but it’s a really fussy style that I don’t really want to spend time on at the moment."

"You’re very valid in that. Have you ever tried just a classic short taper with a nice line up? We could style the front up for the party, and then on normal days you’d still have a nice shape cut into your hair and you wouldn’t have to do anything to it."

"I never have, although that does sound good for my needs. How short would that be?"

"Pretty short around the ears and nape to make it low maintenance, like a zero which is a sixteenth of an inch. And then the top we’d take down to about here," he held a strand of my bangs about two inches from my head.

"That is really short…but maybe I need a change."

"Your call of course, it would definitely be a change for you, but I think you’d look so cute in it, and you’ll see that it feels really nice too."

I blushed. He just suggested I might be cute, and his taste is great, so I trust him to make it formal enough. But I was a little nervous; it would be a loss of…six inches of hair that I’d become accustomed to, and would be so much shorter than my quiff had ever been. I finally decided that if I didn’t like it I still couldn’t be worse off than this mullet monstrosity, and all I had to do was ignore self care for another few months to return to it.

"You know what, go for it."

"Great! Daniel thanks so much for trusting me; I want to show you how nice and relaxing a haircut can be, because after the work you’ve put in this semester you really need a break."

"Aw I appreciate you."

It was Mark’s turn to blush, and he led me to one of the soft chairs, set a full length mirror in front of it, and draped a towel around me. He then fastened a strip of flexible paper snugly around my neck.

"This is just to keep you from getting hair on you. So first I’m going to use the clippers to knock down the sides."

"Oh I’ve never had them."

"Oh, enjoy. They feel like a little hum."

I gulped, but I trusted him. He flicked the clippers on, a sleek silver pair that was clearly of professional grade, and their hum began. I felt it first at my left sideburn, a small and pleasant tickle that meandered in careful vertical paths to the back of my head, and then around to the other side. Their vibration was gentler than expected, and they left a visible clearing around both ears. I wasn’t used to seeing my ears so completely, and I found they led the eye to a jawline I had forgotten I had. Mark smiled sweetly.

"Ok you survived the hard part, time to do the top. I’m just going to blend it into the sides evenly and add a little texture."

He picked up a section at the back and held it at that same close distance to my head he had demonstrated earlier. I prepared for terror, pain, and an aggressive hacking, but all I felt were gentle snips. The soft combing and grasping of my hair inexplicably relaxed my scalp, and in extension from it my whole body. My thoughts melted away to the quiet, rhythmic snipping sounds.

Gradually Mark made his way to the front of my head and combed down the section that would be my bangs, which covered my face to the chin. He snipped carefully across the middle of my forehead, delicately chipping into the line to continue creating that texture of his vision. Finally I saw myself, more than I had in a long while. I had nice cheekbones in addition to this jawline. I had the bluest eyes, deep set with dark lashes and strong brows. I had never felt like a beautiful guy before, and my heart was beating fast.

The hair was shaping up wonderfully, clean lines on the sides that gave way to a gorgeously tousled short crop on top. I couldn’t believe how perfectly Mark had chosen and created this. He rubbed in some matte pomade from a dark little jar, sending tingles across my head once again, spread some shaving foam around my nape, and lined up the back with satisfying scrapes of straight razor before deciding the cut was finished.

"So there you go, Daniel! How do you like it?"

"This is amazing. It’s…so different, but I love it," I said in awe.

"Oh I’m so glad! You look so handsome, and there’s nothing like a fresh start. By the way, my haircuts always come with a massage. See how you like this."

He started to gently scratch behind my ears and around my nape, and I felt something new. His strong hands shifted to a slight grip on my scalp, moving the skin around in curved paths, at first methodically and then with more abandon. I suddenly felt the stark closeness of the cut as only stubble separated us in places. It was rugged somehow, something I had never attributed to myself or my masculinity before and really enjoyed. In his unfailingly relaxing and gentlemanly service, Mark had opened an entirely new variety of manhood to me—a more classically masculine one than ever was comfortable to me, and at once a more self-acceptant than I ever had access to. I found myself completely aroused.

"Mark you’re a genius, this feels sooo good," I said almost at a whisper.

"Aw I’m so glad; that’s one thing I hoped you’d enjoy about short hair."

"You were so right. Thank you for suggesting this."

"My pleasure," he paused for a moment. "You know I’ve already kind of said this, but I think you’re a beautiful guy and a real mensch. Can I give you a cuddle?"

"I’d be honored. You really think so?" I couldn’t believe someone saw me that way; I certainly never had.

"Of course. Come to the couch."

We sat down and leaned our heads on each other’s shoulders, our arms around one another. I was exploding with feelings.

"Can I kiss you, Mark?"

He nodded, and we shared a soft and affectionate kiss. We explored each other’s bodies, finding rubs and pats that did more to us fully clothed than actual prior sex ever had, and so I looked forward to more intimate things in the future.

We ended the evening, relaxed, aroused, and eventually relieved. There was plenty of time for me to walk home, get ready for bed, and rest up for the party in two days, at which my cousins absolutely loved my new hair, saying I looked more like myself than ever before.

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