Call Me Samson

I've had two haircuts in the last twelve months. The most recent was in December. The one before that was last May. It's my understanding that the average is about once every five weeks, so that puts me a good bit behind the typical pace. It's probably unsurprising that I obtained neither of those two haircuts on my own initiative. I don't like getting haircuts, and there is no mystery as to why. I don't like paying for them, for one thing. It seems like a needless expense, in a way. You don't walk away having gained something tangible, and what does result from it doesn't last. I'd rather have a new hat.

Whatever I pay, I never end up with a haircut I like. I don't like making a fuss, and one has to make a fuss in order to get what they want. One also has to know what they want in order to get what they want, and I almost never know. When I do know, I can't describe it or identify any celebrity who has it. The salon portfolios are no help. All the haircuts pictured in them look awful- just awful. What I've decided is that I prefer my hair long in any case. I think I look better that way, and it happens to conceal the high corners of my hairline. I have anticipated eventually going bald most of my life, and the earliest, faintest evidence of it is already there. When I got that haircut in December, the high corners were obvious to all, and I was mortified.

I also don't like talking to the stylist. I guess it's supposed to be a service they provide or some social politeness common to most people other than myself, but it's no good. There never has been a good conversation in such circumstances. They can hardly be enjoying the painstaking process of extracting words from me. I know that I don't like talking to them, and I don't like spending time with someone I'm not going to talk to. The other customers aren't too pleasant either. I wouldn't have time to dislike them if it wasn't for the waiting, which is something else I don't care for. I won't wait, and I have no interest in setting up appointments.

For the above reasons,  I vowed at the time of my last haircut that it was going to be a good long time before the next one. I stand by that today. It may not ever happen unless my hairline goes back to where it was, and barring radical advances in science, I'm not holding my breath for that. As with all my convictions and principles, however, this is negotiable for the sake of a woman's romantic attention. I'm sure that I will not be faulted for compromising should that eventuality ever play out.