Parker Joins the Ivy League by Mario

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Parker got out of the shower and was about to begin the lengthy process of drying his long dirty blond hair. He’d worn it long since college when he was in a band, and just had his sister trim it from time to time. While it could sometimes be a pain, and was definitely hot in the summer, Parker really liked the look so it was worth it.

Parker had recently decided to see how a beard looked with his hair, so he stopped shaving and went a good 6 or 7 weeks to see how it grew in. While Parker thought the beard was cool, he had to admit it was scraggly and kind of wild. He could see that it desperately needed trimming or shaping. Parker knew his sister wouldn’t have a clue as to how to deal with it, and neither did he, so he figured his best bet would be to go to a real barber, as nervous as that made him.

Parker Googled "Barber Shops Near Me" and came up with a list of about 4 or 5 shops that were pretty close. He threw on some jeans, grabbed a coffee and went to check out the various shops.

He drove from one shop to the other, and was pretty discouraged. The shops were all very old-fashioned with ancient guys in white tunics sitting in big vinyl chairs, reading the paper and facing empty waiting areas. A few had customers in their chairs, but the customers were all old too, and all getting super short haircuts. Not for him!

The last shop on his list showed a little more promise. It was simply called "Tom’s Cuts" and had a single barber, a young, good looking guy in a tee shirt that showed off his sculpted body and blue jeans that didn’t leave much to the imagination. The barber was cutting one customer’s hair with a number of other customer’s waiting, all younger guys. Parker couldn’t see much more in a drive by, so he passed the shop, turned around and was lucky enough to score a parking space directly in front of the shop.

Parker pretended to be on the phone, but he was really scoping the place out, deciding if he was comfortable enough with the barber to let him trim his new beard. Parker watched the barber give a few haircuts and while they were mostly pretty short, they were modern and edgy and they suited the guys who sported them really well. There were a couple of beards in the mix and they looked great, too. Again, kind of short, but cool nonetheless. Parker decided to give it a go.

Parker hadn’t realized how long he’d been sitting there, but as soon as he walked into the shop the barber looked up and said,

"You just made it. You’ll be my last customer of the day," and walked over to the door and turned the Open sign to Closed and pulled down the shade.

There were still a few guys ahead of him, and fortunately Parker still liked what he saw and felt good about his decision to let this barber give his beard its first trim.

Finally, the barber and Parker were alone in the shop and it was Parker’s turn. The barber patted the chair and said, "OK my friend, you’re up."

Parker climbed in the chair, the barber put the cape around him and smiled at him in the mirror.

"I’m Tom, but you probably figured that out," he said. "What’s your name?"

"I’m Parker," Parker answered.

"Well Parker, that was either one very long phone call you were on, or you were checking out the shop and me, trying to decide if you were going to trust me to give you a haircut. Am I right?"

Parker felt rather sheepish, but admitted that it was true.

Tom laughed and said, "Hey, if I was going to make the big chop, I’d be cautious too, no worries. So, what’s going on here? New job? Pressure from your partner? Just ready for a change? Do tell."

Parker was even more embarrassed. "I’m only here to get my beard trimmed. I just grew it and I don’t know what to do with it," he said. "I love my long hair. Definitely no haircut."

Tom’s eyes got wide. "You’re kidding, right? If anyone needed a haircut it’s you. Long hair is a thing of the past, and yours, well, it’s a mess. Let me bring you into this century with a new look. With the new beard I can make you look awesome!"

Parker was beginning to wonder if this was a bad idea. "No, no, really. Just the beard," he said.

Tom rolled his eyes but said, "Well, I think you’re making a big mistake, but OK, you’re the boss."

But then, he couldn’t let it go.

"I’m curious. What do you like about your long hair? I bet you’re a good-looking guy under that mop. Do you have a girlfriend? A boyfriend?"

Parker felt this was getting a little personal, but he answered anyway. "No, I’m not seeing anyone right now."

Tom was very straightforward. "Gay or straight? Or Bi? Whatever is fine by me, I’m an equal opportunity barber," he laughed. "And I’m gay, by the way." Then he added, mostly under his breath, "Not that that I’m seeing anyone either."

Parker’s interest was piqued. "Oh, I’m gay too," he said. "And the truth is, it’s been ages since I’ve had a boyfriend."

"Hey, I’m right there with you," Tom said, sadly. "Have you ever thought that maybe your hair is a turn off? Most gays are pretty stylish, or go for super short haircuts, like me."

Tom saw Parker squirming, so he said, "Sorry, sorry, I’ll let it go, I promise. I’m just trying to get you some action. So, your beard. What did you have in mind?"

Parker, glad he was no longer being pressured to cut his hair, and now that they were both out felt he could be a little more open and honest with Tom. "Well, I’m not really sure. It’s my first beard. I want something that will look good with my hair. What would you suggest?"

"Well," Tom said, "what I’d suggest is that you cut your hair … but since that’s off the table," raising his hands in submission when he saw Parker’s look, "I guess I’d suggest keeping the beard long, you know, complete the grunge rock look you’ve got going. Maybe trim the sides a little, to give it some shape?"

"Grunge rock?" Parker said, indignantly. "I’m not looking for grunge rock. And," he admitted, "I’m tired of being on my own. I’d like to meet someone. I was thinking something that will make me look neat and trim and hip."

Tom eyed Parker in the mirror. "Hmm. Neat, trim and hip. Yeah, I can do that, no problem. That’s good, I can work with that. Definitely."

Tom turned the chair away from the mirror and started chatting away, asking Parker what he did for a living, how long he lived in the area, stuff like that while combed Parker’s long hair out and tied it in a ponytail.

"What are you doing that for?" Parker asked.

"Oh, I don’t want your hair to be in the way when I work on your beard," Tom said. Then he paused and said again, "Neat, trim and hip, that’s the goal. Right?"

"Yeah, right," Parker answered.

"You’re sure?" Tom queried. "Grunge is out, styled is in?"

"Definitely," Parker said, happy that they were finally on the same page.

"Definitely," Tom repeated. "Excellent!" And with that affirmation, Tom picked up a pair of scissors, grabbed Parker’s ponytail and sliced it off with a big crunch.

"What the hell!" Parker shouted and tried to get out of the chair.

Tom clamped his hand down on Parker’s shoulder. "Sit still," he commanded, "and stop acting like a baby. You want a neat and trim beard? Well, you’re going to have neat and trim hair to go with it."

Parker was not pleased. "Well, s**t," he said. "Don’t I have a say in this? I specifically told you I didn’t want to cut my hair!"

Tom walked around the chair and faced him. "And then you told me you wanted to look neat, trim and hip. ‘Grunge is out, styled is in’, you said. ‘Definitely,’ you said. I asked, remember?"

"Parker, look. You want to meet someone? Get with the program! Trust me, I’m going to fix you up good."

Parker’s anger was abating and Tom saw it. He delivered his closer. "C’mon, just think," he said, grinning at Tom. "No more lonely nights."

"Well, I guess I don’t have a choice," Parker grumbled. "It’s not like you can stop now."

Tom grinned and walked back around the chair. "I’m glad you’re getting into the spirit of things," he said, even though he knew it wasn’t really true. "Ok," he said, "Let’s make a new man out of you," and he picked up his clippers and snapped them on.

Parker got all agitated. "Oh no, what are you doing now?! Not clippers! I mean, there’s still plenty of hair, can’t you cut it with scissors? Leave it longer?"

"Well, I could," Tom said, as he pushed Parker’s head down, "but I’m not going to." Starting at his nape, Tom brought the clippers up the back of Parker’s head. "We’re going neat, trim, hip, and short!"

Up and up, he went, all the way to the crown. Hair was cascading down, onto the cape and onto the floor. Parker was fighting it, but Tom had a good hold on him.

"Stop squirming! Tom commanded.

He adopted a more conversational tone. "Hey, look. Relax. It won’t be as short as mine. Well, not quite." Tom switched gears. "Do you know what an Ivy League is?" Tom asked.

Parker was trying to lift his head, but Tom had an iron grip on it. "Yeah, sure. Parker said. "I oughta know, I went to Princeton. It’s an Ivy League college."

"Perfect," Tom said, moving to the left side of Parker’s head and working the clippers around Parker’s ear. "Princeton is the name of a haircut, too. That’s the look we’re going for."

By now, the cape and floor were covered with mounds of Parker’s hair and he was feeling lightheaded both literarily and figuratively, but still gripping the arms of the chair like he was holding on for dear life. "I thought you wanted to bring me into this century!" he said in a small voice. "That sounds very 1950’s!"

Tom’s energetic cutting did not stop. By now he was working on a very clean and tight taper. He had put a different attachment on the clippers and was taking the nape and the sides in even closer.

Parker was in barbershop hell.

"It’s a classic. Timeless. Tapered back, parted on the side. A little on the top to comb. Think Ralph Lauren."

"What I’m thinking is that I made the biggest mistake of my life, coming here," Parker responded.

Tom laughed. "Now, now, don’t be like that. Remember, I asked and you said ‘Definitely!’."

Tom finally put the clippers down, sprayed the top of Parker’s hair with water and started lifting up sections and cutting them with his scissors. Cutting them pretty close to the scalp, Parker noticed, sadly. After the first pass, Tom started at the front again, and took the top down even shorter. Then he blended the sides and used thinning shears all over.

"OK," Tom said. "Now the beard," and he tilted the chair back so forcefully Parker almost fell out.

Tom picked up the clippers again and ran them all over Parker’s face. He put a line at his neck, trimmed his mustache so it cleared his lip and faded the sides of the beard into Parker’s hair. Then he used the outliner to give the beard sharp edges. After that, he shaved even sharper lines everywhere he had outlined, put the chair up again and shaved around Parker’s ears and at the nape.

Parker didn’t know what to think about that. No one had ever done that to him before. It felt … well … amazing.

"Hmm," Tom said, checking Parker out. "Not, bad, if I do say so myself. Who knew there’d be a looker under all that hair." he said.

Tom took a few final snips here and there before combing everything just so.

"Ta-da" he said, turning the chair toward the mirror. "Parker, meet Parker. The neat, trim and hip version of a former grunge rocker."

Parker was shocked at the person in the mirror. Short hair and beard. Very short. But he had to admit, the short hair still had with some style, and the beard looked great with it. Maybe it wasn’t so bad? He tentatively touched the back of his head and stroked the little hairs at the nape, feeling the soft bristle. Then he brought his hand up the back of his head to the crown. A little smile appeared on his lips.

"Ha!" Tom said. "You like it!"

"Well," Parker said, "It feels wonderful, I’ll give you that. I guess I do kinda like it. It’ll definitely take a little getting used to."

Tom crossed his arms and smirked. "It’ll be easier to take care of, not so hot and definitely, definitely hipper. And, by the way, you look hot as hell, so I bet you’ll be seeing someone in no time."

Parker got out of the chair and looked at all the hair on the floor. "Jeez!" he said, his eyes wide. "Is that really all mine?"

"All yours!" Tom said. "Listen, I know I kind of bullied you into it, so this haircuts on me. But to keep this look you need to come in every 3 weeks, ok?"

"Yeah, sure, ok," Parker said, "that’s not a problem."

Suddenly shy, Tom added, "Hey, maybe keep coming at the end of the day and we can grab dinner or a drink one of these nights?"

Parker smiled. "Yeah, that sounds great," he said. "I’d like that."

Tom smiled broadly. They shook hands and said their goodbyes, and Tom unlocked the door to let Parker out. He started sweeping up the hair that was all over, whistling contentedly when there was a light knock at the door. He went and opened it, and there was Parker standing there.

"Oh, hi," Tom said. "Did you forget something?"

"Well, not exactly," Parker said. "Um...I was just wondering if, well, maybe you were free for dinner tonight?"

Tom grinned and said, "You don't waste any time, do you?" He walked up to Parker and put his hand at the nape of Parker’s neck, giving it a rub. They locked eyes. "Yeah, Parker, I’d like to have dinner with you tonight very much."

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