Break ups are always hard and it’s only after the break up that you analyse things and ask yourself ‘what went wrong, what happened I mean we had such a good relationship didn’t we? I didn’t even see it coming? I don’t understand?’
All those times we spent together hanging out, shooting the breeze, building the relationship. I’d rock up to find different staff in the salon and get the run down on the goings on. I’d pretend like I knew who you were talking about so I could fit in, you’d pretend like you remembered my name and I would come out feeling on top of the world with a new colour or cut.
But something went wrong……..
When I rocked up to my last appointment, the salon was full of strange ‘look at me’ and ‘I can talk the loudest’ type salon folk. The scene was a little unsettling but I really needed a cut.
So we’re making small talk in between him talking to everyone else and everybody else talking to everybody else and it’s all a bit chaotic and it’s like that time I did acid and I had no clue about what was going on around me and before I know it, my hair is being straightened and then he starts blissfully hacking away. I feel a little uncomfortable not dissimilar to that trip, however, I have put a certain amount of trust in my hairdresser and he hasn’t steered my wrong yet but just like acid, when thing’s seem warm and fuzzy and pretty and shimmery, just lurking below the surface is a scary arse dragon.
And the dragon is rumbling.
My hairdresser is talking and cutting and talking and cutting and oh wait, the phone rings, so my hairdresser answers the call because everybody else in the salon is too busy talking to each other about themselves so he is the only one that can answer the phone mid haircut (customer service 101). Seriously! I watch him flamboyantly waving his magic scissors around as he is talking with his over exaggerated gestures – clearly the conversation is all about him. So I’m watching and waiting and waiting and watching and man, I just want to get off the blue bus and get outta there. Finally, he is done. He apologizes and gives me a run down and then starts hacking and chatting and hacking and chatting and then the chair spins and voila – it’s done and feel it, doesn’t it feel good and don’t you feel better and that’ll be $60.00…..
What the fuckidy fuck?
$60.00, no shampoo, no scalp massage just a flashback to a trip from days gone by.
And just like that, we are done!
But like any relationship, we had some good times, but sadly, I finally realized that maybe it was me who was putting in all the effort and now, I’m done, it’s time to move on.
Thanks for the memories, I will miss you…..
This is what I asked for….