Unfaithful

I don't know what he was thinking. He'd left me on my own.
Was I really supposed to wait for him? I needed him. What was I to do?
My head was driving me crazy. I had to do something about it.
Honestly though, it wouldn't be the first time I strayed and if he leaves me again, it wouldn't be the last.

But still, I felt guilty.

Taking the F train up into Chelsea, I emerged and beelined to my destination.
Walking in the door, I dropped my bags, hung up my coat as she greeted me from the back, pointing me to a chair.

She came up behind me and purred,
"How do you want it?"
"1 on the sides. Shorten and clean up the top a little," I replied.

With my instructions, she started to buzz my hair.

She didn't have the deftness of Luigi, my hairstylist at Astor Place. Then again he wasn't here. He'd gone on vacation for a month, a whole month. I couldn't go more than 2 weeks without a cut. I'd be a chia pet by the third week. Luigi knew it. He'd cut my hair as short as he'd allow the last time I saw him, but it wasn't enough.

In the amount of time it took her to shave my sides, Luigi would have been done. I doubted my decision to do this, even more so as she did not evoke my confidence in her.

"I see stepping," I screamed silently to myself as she buzzed on.

She changed clipper heads a few times. BUZZ. BUZZ. Slowly, the stepping blended away.

Whew.

Gloriously, she put down the clipper and finished me off, trimming and cleaning up the top of my head.

Not a bad cut but definitely not Luigi. He knows my head and how I like it.
I worried that this woman didn't know what I'd wanted and I was right. She gave me the atypical (gay) Asian man haircut. I'm displeased. I'll wear a cap for a week.

Bleech.

Luigi, come back soon. I'm sorry I strayed.