Fantasy or Reality Pt 4 by Just_Me

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We were almost late for the filming, but made it just in time. Carolyn met us at the door. "I was getting worried. Is everything OK?" Then she looked at us, and I guess she figured out why we were almost late. She grinned. "I swear, you two are as bad as rabbits."

George laughed. "I’ve had worse conclusions drawn about me."

We took off our hats and Carolyn saw our hair. "What the hell did you two do to your hair? It’s going to ruin the continuity of the shows."

George stopped her. "Why? It’s not like your audience doesn’t know that we have a thing for haircuts. It’ll just prove to them what we’ve been saying."

She shook her head, "I don’t know about that, but I guess I don’t have any choice but to go with it." She glared at us. "Next time, don’t do something like this to me."

I laughed. "I don’t think there’s going to be a next time. I think you’ve wrung all the story out of us."

She looked at me. "Somehow, I doubt that. I imagine I could spend a whole season on the two of you."

Carolyn looked at us, and said. "I have to admit you both look good. The styles suit you." She continued. "Life with the two of you is never boring. I’d love to be friends with you just so I could see the changes."

I was quick to say, "You’ll always have a place to stay if you ever come to Arkansas, and you’re always welcome.

George nodded. "Absolutely. Always."

He chuckled. "If you just want to see what we’re up to, we’re on Facebook and Instagram. You can always follow us. We normally post pictures of our antics…and our new hairstyles."

We sat on the stage and listened to "Miss Professional" go through her opening monologue. "Welcome to today’s edition of ‘Fantasy or Reality’, where we explore the age-old question of whether love at first sight is a fantasy or a reality. I think we have a very pleasant, very unusual show in store for our audience today. I’m very excited to welcome today’s guest back for a historical third visit, and we have an unprecedented format for you today. We asked you to send us questions for this delightful couple to answer for us. Please join me in welcoming "Old Man George" Wallace and his partner, Curtis Roberts."

After a polite round of applause, she continued. "I just found out these two are on Instagram. If you want to keep up with their shenanigans, feel free to follow them."

Our numbers soared after she said that.

Carolyn started the show with, "Our first question is one that’s near and dear to us here at ‘Fantasy or Reality’. It’s one we’ve already asked you, but we want to ask it again. Do you believe in love at first sight?"

I sighed. "Curtis and I have talked this topic to death, and I’m still not sure what my answer is. Like I joked during our first interview, I know I fell in lust with Curtis the first time I saw him, even before he said a word. Within a few sentences, I was feeling something that I thought was more than lust, but I’m not sure. Maybe it was just some variation of lust." I shook my head. "I really don’t know if I believe in love at first sight, but I know we came to love each other much more quickly than is normal."

Carolyn asked, "When did you first know you loved him?"

"I was freely admitting it to myself by the end of our third ‘date’." I grinned. "I never asked him out on a ‘date’. I just asked him if he wanted to hang out."

She turned to Curtis. "What about you? Do you believe in love at first sight?"

He grinned. "George pretty much said everything I was going to say. I definitely fell in lust with him at first sight." He turned to the audience. "Who wouldn’t lust after a hunk like George? Isn’t he gorgeous?" After the applause died down, he said, "Not only is he gorgeous, but he’s kind, thoughtful, romantic and smart as hell. It’s easy to see why I fell in love with him." Tears filled my eyes when he said, "I often think I’m the luckiest man in the world."

Curtis turned back to Carolyn. "To answer your question, I don’t think I admitted to myself that I was in love by the end of our third date, but I was definitely thinking he was something special. I think the lust turned to love during our first haircut together."

Carolyn asked, "Is there any advice you’d give someone trying to figure out if it was love?"

Curtis looked at me, and his eyes asked if I wanted him to answer. I nodded.

Curtis said, "I didn’t follow the advice I’m giving you. I would say take your time, and make sure you know it’s right." He grabbed my hand. "Having said that, I didn’t have any doubts that this was the right man for me. I knew it early on, and time has proved me right."

Then he kissed me. "Thanks for all the love and support through the years." He blushed. "I guess I should thank you for all the lust too."

Wolf whistles erupted in the audience.

Carolyn continued the show. "Our next question is, what do you think the secret of your longevity as a couple is?’

I thought, "These are boring questions. She’s going to lose the audience."

George spoke first. "In my opinion, sheer cussedness is the reason we’re still together. For those of you not from the South, that means stubbornness. We are both too stubborn to give up. When Curtis wanted to give up on us, I wouldn’t let him. When I got pissed, and wanted out, he said, "Oh, no, no, no. You made me stay when I wanted to leave, so by god, your ass is staying now."

The audience laughed. Curtis spoke up. "I agree with George, but we also have a lot of shared interests, and that keeps us from getting bored with each other."

Carolyn stepped in. "I don’t think many folks would consider you two boring. I’ve laughed and cried as you told your story…and held my breath, hoping you weren’t going to get too pornographic."

She looked at us, "Do you have any other insights to share?"

George shook his head, but I kept talking. "All I can say is that we love each other. Our love and our passion for each other have kept us moving on. Each day is a journey of discovery with this weird, amazing, incredible man that I love."

"Miss Professional" decided to see if she could make a living as a comedian. "Don’t forget your shared passion for haircuts."

I spoke up. "You’ve got a point Carolyn. That love of haircuts has given us a focus and point of agreement on days when we couldn’t agree if the sky was blue or grass was green." I grinned. "...and there’s been more than a few days when we couldn’t agree on anything but our love of haircuts."

Carolyn said, "Obviously, haircuts have played an important part in keeping your relationship from going stagnant. That brings us to our next question. Tell us about some of your haircuts adventures, and maybe haircut misadventures, if there have been any.

We both laughed. George said, "Oh, we’ve had some hilarious mishaps with bad barbers, and had no choice but to shave our heads, but let’s not get into that. We’d still be sitting here next month if we tried to tell you all of those stories."

Curtis spoke up. "Wait. We could tell them about our ‘Barbering Across America’ adventures."

Carolyn jumped on that. "What is ‘Barbering Across America’? Tell us more."

I looked at George. "What is it? A game? A challenge?"

"Let’s say a game."

"OK, a game it is." I looked at Carolyn. "We came up with this game we’ve played several times while on vacation." I looked at George. "How many times have we played? Eight? Nine times?"

"We’ve played ten times." He got a look in his eyes. "It’s been a long time since we’ve done it."

I continued. "Anyway, we’ll let our hair get a little longer…not real long, but just a little longer. Then we’ll start driving in a general direction, say north. We avoid the interstates, and stop at random barber shops in little podunk towns. Each time the barber asks what we want, we’ll say, ‘Take it a little bit shorter’. The goal is to get seven haircuts in two weeks, without getting a haircut that’s so bad we have to shave our heads."

George stopped me. "Is that really the goal? Why do we pack the clippers if the goal is not to have to shave our heads?"

I smirked. "The clippers are just insurance against bad haircuts."

Carolyn spoke up. "From what I know about the two of you, I think George is right. It sounds like your goal is to shave your heads." She looked at George. "Have you ever got through all seven haircuts without having to shave your head?"

George picked up the story. "Surprisingly, yes. We’ve made it home with our hair still looking decent five times." I grimaced. "The first time we played, we had to find a fleabag motel after the first haircut. That barber didn’t know crap about cutting hair. He gapped us up badly. Our hair was uneven, and it looked like a two-year old had cut it."

Curtis spoke up. "It was honestly the worst haircut I’ve ever experienced, but we made lemonade out of the lemons. We had fun that night."

I kinda got lost in the memories of that night, and Curtis had to clear his throat to bring me back into the present.

"We almost decided not to play ‘Barbering Across America’ again after that…almost. The next time we played, I think we made it to four barber shops before we had to shave our heads."

Carolyn was her most professional self when she said. "You two never cease to amaze me. Now we’ll move on to the next question, which is ‘George, did you ever take up smoking a pipe?’"

"No. I’ve only had a pipe in my mouth one time. A neighbor wanted to take a picture of the three of us. We lined up, and both Curtis and Mr. Harvey had a pipe in their mouth. Our neighbor made a joke. ‘George, you look out of place without a pipe in your mouth.’ Mr. Harvey handed me his pipe, and said, ‘Here George. Stick this in your mouth. Maybe it’ll shut you up for a while.’ He pulled another pipe out of his pocket, and put it in his mouth. She took the picture, and I handed the pipe back to Mr. Harvey."

Curtis laughed, "What he’s saying is true, but he’s not giving you the complete picture."

Carolyn wanted to know what he was talking about, and Curtis replied "Well, he may have only had a pipe in his mouth one time, but sometimes he smokes a cigar."

I frowned. "They don’t need to know about that."

Carolyn smiled. "I think there’s a story hidden in that comment. Curtis, tell us more."

"Well, occasionally, we’ll play poker, and smoke a cigar together."

George grinned. "If you’re gonna tell ‘em the story, tell ‘em the whole story. He looked at the audience. "We play strip poker."

The audience laughed. "George didn’t want me to tell this story, because he ALWAYS loses…and I’m one of the world’s worst poker players." I got more laughter when I said, "I’m not sure if he’s that bad of a player, or if he just wants to flaunt his naked body."

"It’s not about flaunting the body, it’s about what we get to do once we’re stripped."

A man in the audience gave a loud wolf whistle.

Carolyn segued into the next question. "I’m not sure, but I think I don’t have to worry about your answer to this question being…shall we say, out of bounds? A viewer wrote, "You have talked about gifts that you’ve given each other. What is the best gift that you’ve received from one another?"

I took the lead. "You mean, besides the gift of our love? That’s a very easy one, and Curtis wins the prize for the best gift ever!"

Last year Curtis said, "Let’s go for a drive."

"Sure." I grabbed a hat, and said, "Let’s go."

I didn’t think a thing about it, but Curtis said, "You always drive. Let me do the driving this time." We spent an hour just going up and down country roads, and we passed a barbershop. He looked at me, "It’s been a long time since we’ve gone to a random barbershop. Let’s go try that one."

Of course I was game. "Let’s do it. It’s always fun to see what we come out of a new shop looking like."

He did a u-turn and pulled into the parking lot. There was a 1957 Chevy Bel Air convertible parked there that set my heart to pumping. It was gorgeous. I gave a wolf whistle, and said, "Damn! That car’s nicer than Mr. Harvey’s was. Come on, Curtis. I want to talk to whomever owns that car." As I opened the door to the shop, I looked at the car again, and thought, "My god, I’ve always wanted that car."

We walked in, and the barber was sitting in the chair, reading a paper. "How are you gentlemen?"

I didn’t want to share niceties with him, and might’ve been a little rude. "We’re OK, but can you tell me who owns that car? It’s amazing!"

He looked at me. "Are you George Wallace?"

I was puzzled. "Yeah, how the hell did you know?"

He reached behind him and picked up some keys. "You’re the owner of that car." He reached behind him again. "Here’s the title."

I almost passed out, and staggered to a chair. "What the hell?"

Curtis grinned at me. "The color for the fortieth anniversary is red, and I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate the fortieth anniversary of our first date than giving you a red car."

I was so shocked I couldn’t stand up. "What the…" Then I asked a stupid question. "How did you know I’ve always wanted a Bel Air convertible?"

He just looked at me…then he grinned. "Umm…maybe because I listen to you when you talk."

I was so addled, that I didn’t understand what he meant. "Of course you listen, what the hell does that have to do with anything?"

Curtis giggled. "Look at me George. I’d be a rich man if I had a dollar for every time you’ve told me how much you loved Uncle Harvey’s car, but every time we pass a Bel Air convertible, you sigh and say, ‘That’s the only car in the world that I love more than Mr. Harvey’s. It’s my fantasy car, and I’d give my eye teeth to have one.’"

He grabbed my hand, and said the most romantic thing…ever. "You’ve fulfilled so many fantasies for me, and I decided to fulfill one for you."

I still couldn’t comprehend it. "You mean it? That car is mine?"

Smartass Curtis showed up. "The barber tried to give you the title. I think if you go look at that title, you’ll see your name on it."

I slowly got up. "You magnificent, incredible sneaky bastard! How did you manage to pull this off?" Then I hugged him. "Oh. My. God, Babe. I can’t believe you did this!"

I grabbed the keys and ran outside without even saying thank you. I yelled, ‘I’ll see you at home, babe’ and backed out."

Curtis was getting worried by the time I got home. I think I drove around for a couple of hours before going home.

Curtis laughed. "George, it was almost five hours before you showed up."

"Hell, yeah! It was fun driving that car around." Then I looked at him. "It’s even more fun driving around in it with you and showing you off. You’re the best-looking, kindest man I’ve ever known, and I’m proud to be seen with you."

I had to be cheeky with my next response. "We’ve always got short cuts for the summer, but last summer we kept it shorter. The wind doesn’t do much damage to a flattop or crewcut."

Carolyn wiped a tear. "Wow, Curtis. That was an amazing gift." She laughed. "I’m assuming the rest of the audience is with me in wanting to know if the two of you got your haircuts that day."

I laughed. "Nope! That’s the first time in our history together that we’ve been in a barbershop without getting a haircut…although, we did go back later to thank the kind gentleman, and got haircuts then."

"Miss Professional" wiped another tear before she moved on. "The next question is ‘what are some of the things you’ve fought about?’"

George looked at her. "Are you sure you want to get into that? We could still be here next year telling you things we’ve fought about."

"Just pick one example."

George and I looked at each other and grinned. We both knew what we wanted to talk about. "I’ll never know why we decided it was so important to us, but we got into a huge argument one day over whose hair grew fastest. I mean we were really going after it. You would’ve thought we were mad about something important, like animal cruelty or climate change."

I really wanted to prove he was wrong, and said, "Let’s shave our heads, and let it grow for three months. The one who loses has to…." I stopped, and blushed. "I won’t say what I proposed, but let’s say I presented a sexual idea."

We stormed into Walt’s, and I startled him when I slammed the door. I plopped into the chair. "Get rid of it all."

George argued. "You know Walt’s rule. The one with the longest hair goes first. My hair’s longer, so get your ass out of that chair."

I got up, and George plopped down. "Shave it!"

Walt looked nervous. "Are you sure?"

George growled. "I said shave it, dammit. Now shake a leg, and get it done."

George was being such an ass that I thought about not shaving mine. I’m not sure what I thought that would prove.

My thoughts about not going through with it really increased when I saw how white his head was after Walt finished shaving it. I thought, "He looks like an alien, and I ain’t gonna walk around looking like an alien."

My anger went away when I thought, "He’s going to have to do a lot of tanning, and you know he tans in the nude." Images of his white head against dark green grass filled my head. I tried to make the thought more wholesome, thinking, "We could listen to the birds sing and watch the bees buzz around the flowers while tanning." I shook my head. "Who do you think you’re fooling? You want to be lying naked next to him, and doing something fun with him."

George didn’t know what I was thinking, and he was still pissed. He grunted, "Get your ass in the chair."

I know I had a gleam in my eye when I said, "You are going to have to spend some serious time in the sun. Your head is white as a cue ball." I threw him a clue. "You’re going to have to lay in the back yard a week to get enough sun to hide all that white."

I guess I passed the thoughts I had in my head to him. I saw his expression soften, and he got a matching gleam in his eyes. "Go get your head shaved. If I’m out in the sun, you’re going to be out in the sun with me."

The leer in his eyes told me Walt knew what we were talking about.

George stepped in. "Enough of the mushy stuff. I won the argument. My hair was longer than his at the end of the three months." He got a self-satisfied look on his face. "…but I think both of us won that night when I claimed my victor’s prize. Right, Babe?"

My blush answered for me.

Carolyn stepped in. She looked at her list. "The next question our viewers wanted to know is, did you ever feel shame about being gay?"

I didn’t even give George an option to answer. I came roaring out of the gates. "Hell yes! I grew up in a very religious home, and I can’t tell you how many sermons I sat through where all the pastor did was talk about how horrible gays are. I heard that the faggots were responsible for ALL of the ills in the world. One time the church erupted into a chorus of amen’s when the pastor said, ‘I’d much rather the police come and tell me that they’d arrested my son for being an axe murderer than have my son come home and tell me he’s a homosexual."

"I still remember how loud those amens were. The preacher kept talking. ‘You might ask me why I’d say that. Well, I’ll tell you. There’s forgiveness available for murder, but those vile queers cannot be forgiven. God has written ‘reprobate" across their foreheads, which means, ‘God has forsaken or rejected’. He’s turned all the faggots over to a reprobate mind. I firmly believe they have no chance of salvation, and that they’re going to burn in Hell for all time and eternity for their iniquity.’"

"Another jubilant round of amens came from the congregation."

"The pastor kept talking. ‘The scripture says, ‘What fellowship has light with darkness?’ I’m here to tell you, if there’s anyone in your family who has the demon of homosexuality in them, you must NOT have anything to do with them. You have to give them the left foot of fellowship. Do not entertain them. Do not associate with them. Do what the Bible says, and cast them out to be trodden under foot of men, like salt that has lost its savor. Shake the dust off your feet, for the Bible says, ‘ it will be more bearable for Sodom and Gomorrah than for them. In fact, the Old Testament says If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them.’ He paused. ‘I wish our government would make this into a law today. America would be a much better place without all the queers in it.’"

"The church absolutely rocked with all the ‘Amens’ and ‘That’s good preaching, pastor’."

He kept going. ‘Abomination means something that is detestable, offensive, or morally repugnant to God. I’m here to tell you, God hates faggots. They’re loathsome to him and he’s going to burn them all in Hell."

I stopped to get my emotions under control. "Is it no wonder that I felt shame, after hearing that message over and over?"

Tears started rolling down my cheeks, but I kept talking. "As a kid, I was petrified that someone would find out I was gay, and I would be ostracized from my church and family. I carried that terror into my teens and twenties with me. Hell was very real to me, and I had nightmares about the flames and torment."

I pointed at George. "It wasn’t until I met this big lug that I started overcoming my shame."

I still had tears streaming down my face when I looked at the audience. "I beat that shame though. It’s kinda hard to be ashamed when a man this handsome is willing to tell the world that he wants to be with you. I made the transition from shame to pride fairly quickly, and I’m still proud when people know I was able to catch this Prince Charming. "

I happened to look at Carolyn, and she was crying too.

George wrapped me in his wonderful arms, and held me until my tears stopped flowing. He was mad when he started talking. "Things like that is why I hate religion to the core of my being. From my perspective, organized religion is evil."

"Fortunately, I didn’t have to face the kind of torment from the church that Curtis did. Mom called us ‘Bunny Claus Christians’ because we only went to church on Easter and Christmas."

"Hell, I didn’t even know what gay was until I was fourteen. When I heard what gay meant, I thought, ‘Oh, that’s me’ but I didn’t internalize it."

"I played football in high school, and joined the other jocks in calling everyone a faggot or a queer." He looked down, and tears filled his eyes. "In retrospect, all of that name calling is a source of deep shame for me. I probably hurt some people very deeply, without intending to. I have apologized to many people for it."

He took a deep breath. "I just didn’t realize that I was hurting people. To me, those were just joking words, and I didn’t know how painful they could be, but now I understand that I was horribly wrong."

"Back to the question though. I guess I’m lucky. Somehow I never applied any of those pejoratives to myself. In my mind’s eye, I was normal, I just knew there weren’t a lot of others like me." He looked up. "I don’t know if that makes any sense, but it’s the best I can do to explain both the lack of shame I had about being gay, and my intense shame for hurting so many people."

It was my turn to hug George.

George continued. "I’ve always had a bit of devil-may-care spirit, and really didn’t care much about what others thought about me."

Curtis spoke up. "I think it’s more of a frankly-my-dear-I-don’t-give-damn attitude."

"You’re probably right. More than once I’ve thought, ‘If they don’t like me, there’s the door, and I hope the doorknob doesn’t bounce off their ass when I slam the damned door."

"I grew up in Arkansas, and there’s a bunch of mighty good people there, but there’s also a helluva lot of rednecks. Obviously I didn’t go around announcing I was gay, but I never really felt shame about it. For me, it was private, not shameful."

Curtis spoke up. "George has more self-confidence than anyone I know. It’s sexy as hell, but sometimes it’s scary as hell."

I kept talking. "I had to be careful, because I didn’t want to get beat up by a bunch of goons, but I was cautious out of a sense of self-preservation, not shame." He looked around. "Curtis and I are respectful of those around us. We don’t flaunt our sexuality…well, not too much, but we don’t hide it. It’s just a fact of life about us like the color of our hair and eyes, but I don’t think either of us are ashamed of who we are…and I still say, ‘If they don’t like me, there’s the door, and I hope the doorknob doesn’t bounce off their ass when I slam the damned door."

Carolyn picked up the interview. "Did you guys ever get married?"

I flashed my wedding ring. "When I heard the news that the Supreme Court ruled that gay marriage was legal, I proposed to George on the spot. Nothing romantic, just, ‘Let’s get married’."

"As y'all have probably figured out, George can be impulsive. His answer was, "Hell yes! Let’s go to the courthouse now. Maybe we can be the first gay couple married in Arkansas."

I shook my head. "Put on your brakes, buddy. First of all, I ain’t getting married without a fresh haircut, and I ain’t marrying a shaggy looking dog like you."

"We could run by the barbershop, and then head to the courthouse."

"Hold your horses. I’m thinking, and I have a few ideas."

"If your ideas include a big, fancy church wedding, I ain’t interested. I never did like church."

"Don’t be foolish, George. Just because the Supreme Court said we could get married doesn’t mean there’s a church in town that would let us get married in it. Remember, we’re still in Arkansas, not at Disney, where dreams come true."

I was making lists as I planned the wedding later that afternoon, and thought, "That was the least romantic proposal in history. You ought to think of a better way to do it. You could at least get some candles, put some soft music on and get on one knee and ask properly."

George came home soon after that. He walked in and said, "Milkshakes?"

"Did you have to ask? Let’s go.’

After we drank our shakes, he took me back to the magical Lover’s Lane. He had put a big "Reserved" sign in front of "our" spot. A blanket was on the ground, with a tray of fruit and cheese, a wine bucket and two glasses. He had timed it perfectly, and the sun was setting in a glorious blast of color. He took my hand, bent down and said, "Curtis Roberts, will you marry me?"

Tears streamed down my face as I nodded. Then we kissed.

I thought for a second. "Back to the wedding. In my opinion, there’s nothing a priest, minister or judge can say that will actually make a marriage. They can say ‘Amen,’ ‘abracadabra’ or ‘ Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo’ until the cows come home, but there won’t be a marriage until the couple finds the courage to stand firm in their commitment."

I continued. "The wedding was actually anti-climatic, although it was one of the proudest days of my life. I couldn’t believe this handsome hunk was willing to promise to love, honor and obey me."

George laughed. "I ain’t never promised to obey you, and ain’t never gonna promise that crap!"

After the audience stopped laughing, I said, "Yes, we had a beautiful, moving ceremony with some friends and family in our glade off Lover’s Lane, but George and I had already made the commitment to each other in our hearts years before. The wedding was just a formality. I was just as married to this amazing man before the ceremony as I was after."

Carolyn spoke up. "That’s beautifully put."

George butted in. "It was a formality…and an excuse to throw a big party. Our little town has never seen a party like the one Curtis put together."

Carolyn was in full control of this interview. She swiftly segued into the next question, "Up next, a viewer wants to know how you decide on a new hairstyle."

George started. "That’s a good question, and I’m not sure exactly how to answer it. Sometimes ideas just pop into my head. Often I see a picture that piques my interest. People we see on the street give us ideas."

Curtis piped up. "Like San Diego?"

I told the rest of the story. "Oh, that’s a good example. We were in San Diego on vacation, and we saw a Marine with a fresh recon. Both of us looked at him. I turned to Curtis. ‘Can I?"

He looked shocked. "Are you brave enough?"

"Hell, yeah I am!"

Curtis took over. "I thought the haircut was goofy looking, but the gleam in George’s eye told me he really wanted to, so I said, ‘If you’re brave, or foolish enough to try it, I’m not going to stand in your way’."

He didn’t say anything, he just went running down the street hollering, "Excuse me, sir. Excuse me, sir."

He caught up with the Marine, and they had a short conversation. George ran back, and grabbed my arm. ‘Come on. He’s going to take me to his barbershop."

I tried not to dampen his excitement. "OK. Let’s do this."

George shoved me into the Marines car, and we took off. I have to admit, I was a little afraid. I didn’t know this man from Adam, and was afraid he might be an axe murderer.

We pulled into one of the biggest barbershops I had ever seen. It had twelve barber chairs, and every chair had a barber standing behind it, busily removing hair from Marines’ heads.

Each barber looked like they had just stepped out of the barber’s chair. There wasn’t a hair out of place on any of them. In fact, it looked like they were all Marines out of uniform.

George and our host Marine went and talked to one barber. I sat down, and my senses were overwhelmed by the sight of so many short haircuts going on at one time. My fetish kicked into overdrive, and I wanted every haircut I saw in action. Most of the haircuts were typical Marine high and tights, but one man was getting a short back and sides. Another man was getting a horseshoe flattop.

An overwhelming desire to look like the man in the chair hit me. My vanity made me think, "I’d look better with a horseshoe than he does."

I looked away in an effort to dismiss the thought, but it wouldn’t go away. I looked back. I thought, "You’ve never even liked a horseshoe, and often make fun of them. Why are you even contemplating this?"

I couldn’t answer myself.

George sat down beside me, and grinned. "This is going to be fun! It might make this the best vacation ever."

I chose to ignore his comment, since I wasn’t as enthused about the recon as George was. "Did your Marine friend get you hooked up with the barber?"

"Yep, I’m next." He grinned. "I’m really stoked." I looked at his lap, and drily said, "I can tell."

I turned my attention back to the horseshoe in process. George poked me in the ribs, and I looked at him.

"Go for it, Babe. You’d look amazing with that cut!"

"Go for what?"

"Who do you think you’re fooling? You know you wanna get a shoe like that."

"Walt would have a fit!"

He shrugged. "Who cares? He’s been pissed at us before." He gave me a lecherous look. "I’d love to feel that flattop in my nether region."

I shook my head, thinking, "I’m definitely NOT going to do it, no matter what George says. I’m sure I won’t like it."

The barber finished up the shoe, took the man’s money and then looked at me. "The man beside you is waiting for Pete. You’re next."

Without thinking about it, I got up and walked to the chair.

George said, "Hell yeah!"

The barber asked, "What’ll it be?"

"Just like the last man."

"A shoe it is."

I smirked when I thought Walt would’ve said, "One shoe coming up."

The barber wasn’t chatty. He put the cape on me, and got busy cutting. Clippers ran up the center of my neck, and it seemed like halfway over the top of my head. I wondered if he was going to stop before he hit my eyebrows. I thought, "What the hell have I got myself into?"

A big wad of hair fell in my lap. Another wad followed seconds later.

The barber wasted no time. It seemed like he had completely skinned all the way around my head in less than a minute. I thought, "Damn, this barber ain’t wasting no time. It would’ve taken Walt ten minutes to do that." Another thought followed. "Of course this barber is faster. He’s not wasting time talking."

I glance at George. He was so focused on my haircut, I don’t think he even noticed I looked at him.

The barber put some butch wax in my hair, and combed it enough to make it stand up straight. He plowed clippers right down the center of my head, without putting a comb under the clippers. I was shocked. Every barber I had ever seen cut a flattop always ran the clippers over a comb. Not this barber. He must’ve had nerves of steel to be brave enough to cut hair that short without some kind of guide. I sighed and thought, "I hope to hell I haven’t made a mistake."

The barber’s confidence eased my angst…a little. I was still scared. After a few minutes, I was completely at ease. This barber knew his stuff. Before I knew it, I had the basic shape of a short flattop…and I mean a short flattop. I don’t think the longest part was three-fourths of an inch. The landing strip seemed like it was way too wide, and way too long. I was mentally preparing to tell the barber to shave my head. I postponed the decision with the thought, "Wait and see what it looks like after he’s done. This is new to you, and you’re not used to it." I mentally congratulated myself for not jumping the gun.

He kept taking a little more off the top, and I was beginning to panic. I thought, "My god, he’s ruining my hair!" He finally finished the top, and took the cape off and shook it out. I was getting ready to get out of the chair, when he put the cape back on. I heard the whirring of the shaving cream dispenser, and soon felt the warmth as he spread shaving cream around the back of my head and the sides. It felt like he covered the top of my head with shaving cream, but when I looked in the mirror, it only covered the landing strip.

I heard the sound of a razor against a strop, and soon felt the blade gliding up the back of my neck. He carefully stripped all the hair under the shaving cream. Clippers came back out, and he skillfully blended the shaved area into the few bristles I still had standing on my head.

The cape came off, and the barber spoke for the first time during the whole haircut. "What do you think?"

My first thought was, "I hate it!" I looked again. "I like it! I was right. I look a helluva lot better than the bastard who inspired my haircut." I spoke up. "I’ll wear it with pride. Great job, sir."

"Semper Fi!"

I almost giggled when I realized he thought I was a Marine, but couldn’t blame him. I had walked into the shop with a Marine. I had short hair, and I was still pretty physically fit.

I pulled out my deepest bass voice. "Hoorah!"

I sat down, to wait for the barber to finish up on George. I looked at him, and even though he was still in the early stages of the haircut, his haircut looked almost as bad as I had imagined. I thought, "He’s so damned good looking, he’ll probably be able to even pull this stupid-assed haircut off, and still look gorgeous."

George paid the barber, and said, "Come on. I need to find a bathroom."

Fortunately, there was a public bathroom not too far from us. George pulled me into a stall. "I’ve gotta get my hands on you. Let me see how it feels."

I dutifully took my fedora off and bowed my head. He rubbed my whole head. He shivered. "My god, that feels good! I think this is my new favorite haircut."

"Don’t get too used to it."

He looked crestfallen. "You don’t like it?"

I had to laugh at the surprise in his voice. "No, I like it. I actually like it a lot, but I’m still partial to my short back and sides." I grinned at him. "I’ll throw you a bone. I’ll keep it for the rest of the summer, but when it starts getting cold, I’m growing some hair back."

He rubbed my head again. "I can live with that. In the meantime, I guess I’m just going to have to enjoy it." Then he kissed me.

After he kissed me thoroughly, he said, "What do you think about my new look?"

I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I wanted to be honest with him. I reached up and touched his head. The top felt like velvet, and the abrupt change to the shaved sides was startling…and sensual. I rubbed it again. "I don’t know…but I think I can learn to like it. That feels..uh..amazing." I dropped my hand.

"It does, doesn’t it?" He picked up my hand. "Do it again."

I remembered a line in a story I read one time. I quoted it to George. ‘It looks like someone plopped some velvet on a shaved head’." Then I rubbed his head. "It really does feel like velvet. You have the thickest hair I’ve ever seen."

We kissed for a long time. I was beginning to think we were going to make love in a public bathroom when George said, "Come on, let’s go to the hotel. I have some plans for us."

We walked out of the bathroom, and realized our host Marine had disappeared. George said, "Where the hell are we?"

I shrugged.

We were looking for a landmark, when a policeman walked by. I said, "Excuse me, sir. We’re staying at the City24. Can you give us some directions?"

"I’m heading that way, and I’d be happy to drop you off, just don’t tell my sergeant I did it."

"Your secret is safe with us, and thanks. We don’t want to get you in trouble though. Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I don’t mind." He pointed. "My cruiser is over there. I’ll be with you in a minute."

When he walked over, he said, "Regulations won’t let you ride in the front. You’ll have to sit in the back." He grinned. "...like a common criminal."

Thankfully the cop had a sense of humor, because George popped off, "Can we borrow your cuffs for the trip?"

He laughed. "The hotel is close. You wouldn’t have time to enjoy them."

When we got to the hotel, George kissed me, and ran his hand over my chin. His next ‘order’ caught me off guard. "Go shave."

"Now? Just when things are getting interesting? Why?"

His eyes were burning with lust when he whispered in my ear, "I don’t want to feel any stubble on your face. The only stubble I want on you is just the teeny-tiny bit you have on your head. That’s why."

I was standing at the sink, shaving, when George came up behind me and put his arms around me. I could feel his excitement against my back. "Would you mind shaving the mustache too?"

"Why?"

He whispered, "Like I said, the only stubble I want on you is just the teeny-tiny bit you have on your head. That’s why."

I handed him the razor. "Do you want to do it?"

"Hell yeah!"

George looked at Carolyn. "Is that a good enough answer? We could tell you some more ways we’ve got ideas."

She smirked. "No, I think you’ve answered the question, and I don’t want to give you an opportunity to tell us more. I thought that answer was going to turn out pornographic."

I wanted to punch George when he said, "Oh, the experience was pornographic alright, but we tried to keep it clean when we told it." He gave her his most innocent smile. "Do you want me to tell you the parts we left out?"

She shook her head. "I think I’ll pass on that offer." Carolyn looked at the audience. "The next question is a three-parter. Have you always kept your hair short? Have you ever let it grow out since your first short haircuts? If so, what’s the longest it’s ever gotten?"

I thought, "I’m surprised that there have been so many questions about our hair. I guess there’s a lot more hair fetishers out there than I imagined."

George started the reply. "There have been a few times when we’ve let our hair grow out, just so we could experience the thrill of getting it all cut off. I’ve done it more than Curtis. I love my pompadour, and will let it grow back from time to time. One time I let my hair and beard grow for a full year."

Curtis piped up. "Yep! I was about to buy him some frontier clothes. He looked like Grizzly Adams, only cuter."

I kept talking. "Curtis is more reserved about hairstyle changes than I am. He settled on short back and sides for his first short haircut, and it’s been his favorite ever since." I grinned at Curtis. "That’s not to say he hasn’t tried out a lot of hairstyles. He’s had flattops and the horseshoe flattop. We’ve shaved his head, and let it grow into a business man's cut. He wore a crewcut for a few months one time. Another time he let it grow for six months. Boy, did he look strange with all that hair." I looked at Curtis. "Is that all of the styles you’ve tried?

He replied, "Don’t forget that time you blackmailed me into trying a recon." He shook his head. "I hated that cut on me, even though I have to admit, it looked good on you, George."

I laughed. "That was definitely a one-hit wonder with you. Anything else you’ve tried?"

"Well, a few times when my hair got longer I played with different styles of sideburns."

"After trying new styles, we normally wind up back at a pompadour and short back and sides."

Carolyn asked, "What about you, George? Have you tried anything unusual?"

"Well, I’m a little more adventurous than Curtis. I think I’ve tried just about everything. I’ve had every style of flattop you can imagine: boxy, beveled, horseshoe and a flattop with fenders. At one time Curtis and I sported matching short backs and sides. Hell, I even wore a Mohawk for a week."

She looked at Curtis. "What did you think?"

He looked at her blankly, and then seemed to find his focus. "Well, it was an interesting look, and he was able to pull it off, but it’s not my favorite look on him."

Carolyn asked, "What was your least favorite style George wore."

"Oh, that’s easy. For about two weeks he tried wearing an elephant’s trunk. I hated it."

"What’s an elephant’s trunk?"

"It was a weird, thankfully short-lived, fad in the Fifties. The hair was styled in a way so that the bangs were curled around something that made it stick out over the forehead. It looked like an elephant’s trunk hanging in the face." Curtis used his hands to demonstrate.

"That sounds bizarre!"

I piped up. "I liked it. I thought it was pretty cool." I looked at Curtis and laughed. " I might have to try it again!"

Curtis had a twinkle in his beautiful blue eyes when he said, "Do it at your own peril. You might wake up with no hair on your head!"

Curtis looked at Carolyn, and said, "Hell, I’d put up with him wearing a mullet before I’d endure another round of the elephant’s trunk!"

Curtis continued. "Mainly though, he’s stayed within his era, just trying out different haircuts." He cleared his throat. "George is much braver with changing his facial hair than I am. I’ve tried some sideburns, and worn some sort of mustache most of the time through the years, but George is constantly changing his facial hair. The long sideburns are his standard, but I’ve seen him with no sideburns, and a year-long beard. He’s had an Amish beard, tailback beard, goatee, handlebar mustache, pencil mustache and Fu-Manchu." He laughed. "I’m probably forgetting half of the variations he’s tried."

She smoothly transitioned into our next question, which was "Do you always dress in the Forties and Fifties style you favor?"

I looked at Curtis, and motioned for him to answer. "For the most part, yes, we both dress in styles from ‘our’ era. However, I’m much more set in my ways than George is. I haven’t dressed in anything but Forties styles for probably forty years, and most often, I wear a suit and hat, whether we’re going to the grocery store or the symphony."

He pointed at me. "I never know what this clown is going to show up with. Every once in a while he’ll pull out his ‘Urban Cowboy’ look. He’ll show up in jeans, a t-shirt, baseball cap and work boots, looking like a typical redneck. Sometimes put on bell bottoms and a silky shirt like he’s heading to a disco…which is a weird look when he has short hair. Last week he came in with an Ocean Pacific shirt and some jam shorts from the Eighties…and he went out in public in them."

The audience laughed. "He too typically stays with a Fifties vibe, but I wouldn't be surprised if he came in in a Martian’s suit. He’s much braver than I am."

He finished with, "I may not know what he’s going to wear, but I know he’s going to look mighty damned good in whatever he has on."

A lady in the audience yelled out, "Curtis, if I thought George would have me, I might bump you off, so I could get my hands on him."

Curtis was quick on his feet. He pulled out his best Arkansas accent. "Hell, ma’am. That’s a might extreme, and ain’t hardly necessary. He’s in my good graces right now, but the next time he pisses me off I’ll just let you have his sorry ass. Give me your phone number, and I’ll give you a call."

I was just as quick as he was though. "Ma’am, come on up here, and I’ll take you home with me now." Then he looked at the audience. "Is there anybody out there willing to take a slightly used, older, gay man off my hands? I think I just got a better offer."

Carolyn didn’t seem to know how to recover from that. Once the laughter subsided, she actually stuttered a little bit before she said, "The next question is, ‘How do people react to you when you’re dressed in ‘period’ clothing?"

"Surprisingly, we get very few comments about our clothing. Occasionally I’ll get a compliment, but it’s pretty rare. I’ve never had anyone say anything negative about it. Most people take it in stride."

I looked at Curtis. "What about you, Babe? Do you have anything to add?"

He shook his head. "No, I really don’t have anything to add. I get more comments about me smoking a pipe than I do about my clothes."

Carolyn asked, "What’s the general consensus about your pipe? Are they positive or negative comments?"

"It’s fairly rare for anyone to say anything negative, although I get a few of those. Most people say something like, ‘That reminds me of my grandfather, an uncle, my father, etc." Every once in a while someone will say, ‘That smells good.’ I’ve had a few teens ask me what I was smoking. They evidently didn’t know you could smoke anything but weed in a pipe."

The audience chuckled.

The most common comment I get is, "I wish I was brave enough to smoke in public like you do." I have had probably a hundred men give me some variation of that comment, and more than a few women. I’m not kidding, there’s a guy who posts hundreds of pictures of himself with a pipe on pipe message boards, but he told me he’s never smoked a pipe on the street. I just can’t figure it out. Evidently America has thousands of closeted pipe smokers, to go along with the tens of thousands of closeted gays."

"I’ve learned a lot from George,and what I always say sounds like him. I say, ‘Hell, it’s not illegal or immoral. Why do you care what people think? They’ll always find something to not like about you. You might as well make it easy for them to find it.’ When I say that, I can always imagine George following up with, "If they don’t like me, there’s the door, and I hope the doorknob doesn’t bounce off their ass when I slam the damned door."

"My favorite experience was when a lady came up to me, and asked if she could stand by me. She explained that she had recently lost her husband, and the aroma of my pipe reminded her of him. We talked for a few moments, and then she just stood beside me for a long time. I saw tears streaming down her face, and of course, that made me cry. When she left, she said, ‘Thank you for the memories’." I paused. "She looked peaceful when she left, and I’d like to think my pipe helped her gain those moments of peace."

Carolyn responded, "That’s lovely. I’m sure it meant a lot to her."

Then Carolyn said, this question is from me. How have your haircuts been received?"

I took the lead back from Curtis.

"Nowadays, having short hair is not a big deal. We get comments on the changes we make, but not many on the actual haircuts." I shook my head. "in the Eighties we got made fun of a lot, until flattops became popular with young men." I smirked. "I like to joke that Curtis and I were just ahead of the times."

I laughed. "I remember one time a bunch of hooligans that were old enough to know better cornered Curtis, and were giving him hell. They were running around in circles, making buzzing noises, and saying things like, ‘It looks like you got in a fight with a lawnmower, and the mower won.’ I was ready to go pound some asses, but Curtis motioned me away. He took it, until one of them said, ‘Nobody but crazy old men wear short hair now. Are you crazy?" Curtis had bullets shooting out of his eyes. ‘Nobody but crazy old men? Have you lost your senses? Have you ever seen a soldier, sailor or Marine? They’re not crazy, and they’re fighting to defend your freedom to wear your long hair. If they weren’t fighting for you, a dictator might be telling you how you can wear your hair. Have you ever thought about that? Firemen wear their hair short, so they can protect and save your sorry little asses. So do policemen.’ Just then a policeman walked around the corner, and he had a sharp flattop. Curtis pointed at the cop. ‘Why don’t you go ask him if he’s crazy? He has short hair’."

"I’ve never seen kids scatter like they did when they saw that cop."

Carolyn had one last question. "This is another question from me. Curtis, as we close out this episode, I’d like to hear a little more about your Uncle Harvey. You guys have talked so much about him that I feel like I know him."

Curtis looked at Carolyn, and seemed to get lost in thought. "There’s so many things I could say about him. This is probably the least important I could say about him, but I’ll start with it. In all the years I knew him, Uncle Harvey never missed a weekly haircut, even if he was sick. He got his last haircut the day before he died."

I thought, "That really sucked as an introduction. Try to do better, you moron."

I kept talking. "I think this is the most important thing to know about him. As you know, Uncle Harvey and Mr. Walt did develop a relationship. As was typical of their generation, they tried to be discreet, but anyone with any sensitivity could see the love they had for each other, no matter how hard they tried to hide it. Their eyes glowed with passion every time they looked at each other." Then I laughed. "I was never brave enough to tell them that their secret was not as secret as they thought it was." I paused to get my thoughts together. "I truly enjoyed watching them laugh together, and seeing Uncle Harvey appear to be truly happy."

I paused. "They lost their discretion when they were around us. In fact, they eventually got to where they were surprisingly affectionate with each other. It wasn't unusual to see them holding hands, hugging or cuddling. I loved hearing them calling each other ‘sweetie’ and ‘honey’."

George interrupted me. He had tears in his eyes. "Their love was a thing of beauty, and a joy to behold. I wish they were still alive today, so that you could honor their love on this show. If anyone’s love deserves to be commemorated, it was theirs."

I picked up where I had left off. "What George said is so true. They were our role models, and I think we owe a lot of our success to lessons we learned from them."

"They never moved in together, and Mr. Walt would hide his car behind the house when he slept over at Uncle Harvey's. I'm assuming Uncle Harvey did the same when he stayed at Walt’s."

I paused. "Give me a second to think of a discreet way to say this." I thought for a second. I looked at Carolyn, "If Uncle Harvey haunts me for saying this, I’m blaming you." I laughed. "I can’t say for certain since I wasn’t in the room, but from the sounds that came out of his bedroom when I spent the night with him, I think it’s safe to say Uncle Harvey did not die a virgin."

After the audience’s laughter died down, I continued. "Uncle Harvey changed after he and Mr. Walt got together. His step got a lot of pep in it, and his military bearing returned. He lost his old man stoop. He became very active, and walked five miles every day."

George spoke up. "He walked five miles, and smoked his damned pipe every step of the way."

"He stayed sharp as a tack until his last breath." I continued. "The two of them were together until Uncle Harvey died on his 100th birthday. He and Mr. Walt had almost twenty-seven years together, and from what I saw of their relationship, they were very happy until the end."

Carolyn sighed. "What a lovely story. Thanks for sharing it with us." ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I had a lot of fun writing this, but it was challenging keeping the dialogue straight and making certain it was clear who was telling the story. I have put quotation marks around everything at least twenty times, and have gone back and taken them out. I felt like too many quotations made it hard to read. I hope I found a balance that makes the story easy to read.

Having said that, the hardest challenge I faced was keeping it PG-rated. In my head, George and Curtis did a lot of X-rated stuff. HA!

This story is another example of a tale that definitely did not take the path I had anticipated when I started writing it.

I never intended for it to become a love story, although romance was definitely a part of what I had planned to write. My original intent was to write a humorous story about two guys who shared a short hair fetish, and the excesses they goaded each other into. My thought was to explore not only the haircuts, but also the effects and consequences of the fetish. I don’t think I managed to do that, but it might be something I’ll explore in another story.

I think this is the longest "short story" I’ve ever written…and it definitely would’ve been the longest if I had recorded all the details of the trysts I imagined.

Every time I sat down to write, ideas would pop into my head, leading me further and further away from my original intentions. I think I was two-thirds of the way through the story when George told me he had a Fifties fascination. I had to rewrite a lot of the story, to include that part of his personality.

I think I could have turned the story of Old Man George and Curtis into a novel.

For those interested, this part of the saga of Curtis and Uncle Harvey is completely fiction, although some of the haircuts and barbers are based on real events in my life.

However, the sermon I reported is not fiction. It’s as close to a verbatim recording of a sermon I sat through as I can get. That sermon really burned itself into my memory.

Curtis and Uncle Harvey were real, although I changed their names. George is (as one of my children used to say) "a fig newton" (i.e. a figment) of my imagination. Walt is a combination of a barber I know, a friend and my imagination.

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