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Some Barbershop "Strange" by BaldSurfer

Dave has been my barber for over 5 years. He's probably the best barber I ever had - and that's not easy. I love getting haircuts, especially short cuts, but I also like to change things up, so I need a barber who is willing to do whatever I ask for and do it well. Dave has long fit the bill. From my "long" winter hair where I'd let the top grow up to an inch or longer, to my summer variety of flats, crewcuts fades and total head shaves, Dave never questioned my requests and always did a great job giving me exactly what I asked for. And after a while, that became the problem. I sometimes missed the fun of a shocking request for a radical shearing. I missed that nervous feeling of not knowing if I'd really like the results of a drastic cut. Dave was just too good. And like a marriage's seven-year-itch, I decided I needed some "strange...

I'd let my hair grow a bit over the winter. The top was a deliberately spiky mess, over 2 inches long, and the sides that had been kept a #2 buzz were over a month grown out. And I was on an extended business trip in Atlanta. I hadn't been home in over 2 weeks, and an early spring had brought a wave of heat and humidity to Atlanta. I was ready for a spring shearing and I couldn't let it wait until I got home. Between my client's office and my hotel was a shop that had caught my attention every day as I drove past. It was called "Beer Buzz" - one of those barber shop/sports bar combos that seemed to be the latest trend. With low expectations I walked in. A hot girl in a bikini tended bar in the front room, and through the doorway, I saw 2 beautiful. scantily-clad girls giving haircuts in the next room. I enjoyed a cold beer as I waited my turn. And then Brandy summoned me to her chair. She had long blond hair that was long enough to just brush her luscious surgically enhanced boobs. I know it sounds prejudiced, but she was so beautiful, I automatically had very low expectations for her barber skills. But at the moment, it seemed ok. I told her exactly what I wanted: I wanted a pretty standard crewcut - a #2 on top, but with the front left just long enough to stand up, and blended to the #2. But contoured to the shape of my head as opposed to a flat top. And I wanted a skin fade on the sides. She nodded and didn't ask any questions, so I thought she knew what I meant and I felt comfortable with her as my barber.Plus - LOOK AT HER! Who wouldn't want to let this girl bend over your head with clippers in her hand?

I should have know better. First thing she did was take out a pair of purple and white clippers that looked like a $20 Walmart kit. She snapped on a black plastic comb that I assumed was the #2. Leaving a thin sheath of bangs hanging down on my forehead, she began to buzz the top of my head. No competent barber had ever started on top before shearing my sides. But I was in the chair, with nowhere to go.

The cheap clippers whined as she pushed them through a mere 2 inches of hair over the top of my head. Still facing the mirror, I was shocked at how awful I looked - 2 inches of bangs hung down the front, at least an inch on the sides, and the top buzzed down to a #2 with bargain clippers, longer hairs sticking up in various spots on my head. Then she took scissors to the bangs, cutting a line straight across my head, making me look like Moe from the 3 stooges. She then grabbed a stick of butch wax and made the remaining hairs stand up, looking like a badly done flat top, with the buzzed head behind it, in a stark and ugly contrast.

She was grabbing another clipper attachment when she asked me how long I wanted to leave my sideburns. I said I'd asked for a skin fade, so I wasn't expecting to have any sideburns left. "But there'll be something left. How high up should I take them?", she asked. "How high? at least halfway up my head! A skin fade means SKIN! I expect to be completely bald to at least an inch above my ears!"

She seemed surprised, but asked no more questions. She grabbed an edger and marked a line around my head, an inch above my ears. She then used the edgers to remove all the hair below that line. She then ran an electric razor over the clipped section, having me down to the skin. I thought she'd finally figured out how to give me what I wanted. But then, she again brushed up the awkward, unblended front, brushed the hairs from my neck and removed the cape. A stark line marked the border from bald to buzzed. I told her I had wanted a fade, and she told me that was what she gave me. I walked out hating how I looked.

A few days later, I was finally home and sheepishly walked in to see Dave. He laughed uncontrollably and asked what I'd done to myself. I told him the story and asked him how we could fix it. "We have to start over", he told me, and I agreed. Clippers, hot towels, hot lather and a straight razor took me down to bald and shiny. I couldn't be sad or mad because I always loved a good head shave. But I knew I could never "cheat" on Dave again...

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