Monday, September 30, 2013

Don't know what you got 'til it's gone (AM)

When I first met my ex-hairdresser it was like... magic. It was just luck. Or was it kismet. I called up this salon that was owned by a friend of a friend. He'd cut my hair years earlier and I always liked his cuts but when I decided to try out his new salon I decided to leave it to fate. I remember calling, requesting a time and being told, "Sure, you can see Tom."


We talked about my wants, my needs, he looked at me and knew what to do. I felt so safe in his hands. And then he washed my hair. And gave me the head massage. I know a lot of people that have seen Tom and back then they all commented on the head massage. That massage was a game changer. Once I've had one that came close. Once. But Tom's massages back then, they were something else. That was it. And the cut. The cut was just so...good. And it looked salon-great for days, weeks almost. I didn't even know it could be like that. He did my colour once too. It was great. Dark brown with these caramel chunks. I mean it sounds foul, but it looked awesome. And that day it was like he blow-dried my hair longer. What?!

For the first few years it was like this, great, dynamic cuts that would make me feel like a million bucks. Oh, sure, he was a real self-absorbed talker, but I didn't mind. Often I even enjoyed it.

But nothing  gold can stay, right? He seemed to get tired of the work, of life. My haircuts were never bad but they just stopped exciting me. He stopped listening to me. Things were stale. I moved on.

On to what? A new hairdresser every cut. A desperate search trying to find the one that makes me feel something. Anything. Oh sure, there was Tim. I thought he may be the one, but on reflection I think I was just desperate and the proximity to Tom's name made it seem some how poetic. Ultimately though Tim and I weren't meant to be.

I've had a bunch of cuts from a bunch of different people and they've all been been pretty good. But none of them have satisfied me the way Tom did. And then on Friday I got a cut that I just kind of hate. And now there is nothing but despair. Not over the hair. I feel philosophical about that. It'll grow out, it'll be fine. I despair of every finding a hairdresser. I thought I'd just meet someone, that I could find a hairdresser like that again. I was a fool. Just a fool to believe...

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