I got my haircut yesterday.
Getting a haircut used to be a strange experience for me. For about 4 years, I got it cut by a guy named Bill who worked at the college I went to. I went there mostly out of convenience, I had basically had the same haircut from kindergarten until about 8 months ago, and it was something Bill could handle.
The thing about Bill was, he was in his late 50’s but he really thought he knew how to connect with college guys, and so our conversations generally went along these lines:
Bill: “So Pete”, (he always called me Pete) “You like girls, huh?”
Me: “Yeah, I guess.”
Bill: “Me too! But they always get so needy, don’t they?”
Me: (nervous chuckle) “I don’t know…”
Bill: “It’s like, I was on a date with this woman, and she’s already talking about getting married! Can you believe that?”
Bill: “You’re a young guy though, I bet you’ve got a lot of girlfriends.”
Me: “I don’t know, not really.”
Bill: (a hearty laugh as he punches my shoulder)
Nowdays my friend Amy cuts my hair, and I tend to get incredibly philosophical and introspective with her as we talk about our strengths and weaknesses as people and what God is doing in our lives. It’s very pleasant and enjoyable, but I sometimes miss the sublime awkwardness of an old lecherous man trying to be my friend.
So thanks, Bill. Thank you for those disquieting memories.