I dumped my barber!

Albert Einstein once said that the more you learn, the more you realize how much you don’t know! In this fast-paced, ever-evolving journey of life, there’s never a shortage of things to learn. Moreover, sometimes you’ll need to undo what you’ve learnt and start all over again. That’s what I’ve been up to lately. For a month now, I’ve been unlearning how to use my pillow and acquiring knowledge on its correct usage. How exactly did we get here? I’m glad you asked.

One fateful morning in early August, I woke up to some distressful unease on the right side of my neck. At that point, I couldn’t really tell where the pain had originated, cos I haven’t been experimenting with new sleeping postures or beddings. However, after a day or two of persistent discomfort and of wobbling my head like an Indian in order to crack that uncomfortable neck position, I was compelled to carry out a structural examination of the material that supports my head while I’m resting in the night. The findings of my investigation yielded nothing out of the usual, until later when it suddenly occurred to me that I just might have been using my pillows improperly.

Since the beginning of time, I’ve always set the pillow over my head which, primarily, the purpose has been to shut out the noisy world so I can have a peaceful uninterrupted dream-filled night’s sleep. Do you ever get one of those sweet blissful utopian dreams, only for the neighbor’s bleating goat to savagely punctuate it? Argh! I hate that! “Em, there’s something called earplugs. Ever heard of them?”. Oh, well, I tried those, but they were a bit extreme, cos then I kept becoming conveniently deaf to my morning alarm clock. So, to strike a balance: pillow over my head, thank you very much! Until a few weeks back when my transgressions finally caught up with me.

I’ve come to learn that depending on your favorite sleeping style, there’s about a dozen different ways to use your pillow rightly so as to avoid injury. I mostly sleep on my tummy. While it’s advisable that sleeping on your stomach is an unnatural position and should be avoided, personally, I prefer this, and find it quite comfortable. The nature of pillows that I use perfectly suit this, but, like I mentioned, I’ve for the most part not used them correctly. Now I’m learning afresh, and as I hop onto this steep learning curve of re-adjusting, I’ve just as much been thinking whether to swing by the massage parlor. God knows how badly I need a happy ending for my sore neck! Perhaps for now I could get a basic neck rub-down at the barbershop—you know they offer this sort of thing around here—as I plan for something a lot more comprehensive later at the parlor.

If you know a bit about gentlemen, you might be aware that most are as attached to their barbers as their heads are to the neck! This relationship—sometimes long-distance it is: I know a guy that drives across town every week just for a haircut—is in a way akin to the til-death-do-us-part kind. However, it can just as quickly get severed if the hairdresser gets sloppy. Like mine did. I noticed that my barber of about five years had begun to slacken in the aspect of hygiene. His grooming tools were triggering more red flags for bugs than the DEA’s daily red flags for drugs at the US-Mexico border. Without so much as sounding an alarm, I swiftly yanked the plug and fled, cos a good-looking lad like myself certainly has no aspirations whatsoever of becoming a museum for a catalogue of cringey skin bugs.

In a short while, I was already scouting the surrounding areas for a new barbershop; dipping my snout in different troughs here and there, when I finally land on what I’m convinced has the requisites to qualify as my new spot. It’s fairly busy at this salon that doubles as a barbershop: guys doing their thing on one end and the ladies on the other. They’ve got a decent workforce, so, you’re unlikely to sit and wait for long. Additionally, the place is clean, tidy, spacious and, generally, they seem to have all the bells and whistles.

The very first time I’m here is on a Friday morning. Expectedly, the traffic at the shop isn’t that much for that time of day. As such, I miss the opportunity to sit back and critically study how business runs around here, cos as soon as I approach the entrance, a young lady ushers me to the hair trimming station. Day-one is fine. I actually like the barber’s job.

When I return two weeks later, it’s a Sunday evening. This time it’s real busy! All the barbers are occupied and, so, I’ll be taking a seat in the waiting area. I’ll wait for 15 minutes. Right then is when, like a serial killer, my eyes begin to prowl about. I’m studying every detail of what transpires here. It’s a hive of activity, however, it doesn’t take long before one thing stands out and catches my attention. So far as I can tell, the sequence of events is that after your haircut, the barber dispatches you to a different station where you’re received by a lady who’ll be giving you the complimentary facial treatment. She’ll also be serving you a thorough massage to the head, neck, shoulders, plus your—uhm—see, right there is where this stuff gets a bit sticky! I’m seated there wondering to myself if this visibly sensual massage to the chest is really necessary for a barbershop!

My turn eventually comes up. The haircut lasts close to 30 minutes. I’m then admitted to the massage station. The lady, whose name I didn’t pick, spreads the facial scrub on my face and gives it some time to set. She returns moments later and asks, “Will you do a massage?”. In that split second before I answer her, I’m thinking there’s not a snowball’s chance in the Sahara I’m letting this chic run her fingers down my chest! “Unfortunately, I’m running late!” I cunningly tell her. I’m quite clever like that! Meanwhile, I urgently need respite for my tender neck. But whatever! Not today!

A week later, I’m back. The cycle is just about the same except for one bit. The lady tasked with rubbing and kneading me is about to receive strict instructions before she even says a word. She’s different from the one that attended to me the previous week. “Hi. Would you like a massage?” Jennifer asks. That’s the name she told me. “Only the neck, please!” I announce matter-of-factly. Well, she ended up rubbing my scalp as well cos she apparently thought I said, “The neck and above!”. For a courtesy treatment, though, I think she did a wonderful job on my neck. All the more reason to return, I guess! Besides the spooky massages, everything else is actually fine at this place. Notwithstanding, I still need to pay Samalie a visit soon, if not for a professional masseuse touch, at least to find out how she’s been coping juggling two jobs; and whether she’s still operating covertly, or in the end her man unearthed her secret job.

As for my former barber, I’m almost sure I’ll bump into him one of these days. I’ve already scripted my responses to the possible questions he might pose. I’ll be straight-up frank with him. For example, I know he’ll ask, “Where have you been?”. I’ll say, “I’ve been out of the county!” But I bet he’ll hear, “Out of the country!”. Then he’ll go ahead to ask, “Where?”. That’s when I properly say my farewells. I’ll tell him, “Dude, bye!”. He’ll hear “Dubai!” And that’ll be the end of that!

Follow the conversation on X: