Monday, December 10, 2012

Shampoo Boy

Having a friend who is also a hairdresser means that you get to save a great deal of money on hair cutting. Trust and a sense of sensitivity also play a part; you don't want to anger your best friend and have him or her fuck up your hair and making you look like a calefare from The Flintstones. I must also add that Melanie gives the best head massages and stop it, I meant my real head that's connected to my neck.

Sometimes when I have a headache or my head is throbbing because I couldn't sleep the night before, I would just pop by Melanie's salon for a wash and blow. I don't even need an immediate haircut. I just need her magic fingers to massage my head and everything would go away. Sometimes without any self-restraint going on, I would burp in the middle of the head massage because she massages a certain nerve.

"Shut up! You disgusting pig. I'm just giving you head and it's only starting to froth a little, I have not even started the blowing yet and you've already started burping," Melanie would teasingly scold.

Oh come on, her job presented itself with puns after puns.

"People are staring," I would always reply.

The only thing I dislike about going to have my frequent (sometimes free) head massage and haircut at Melanie's salon is that she likes to set me up with her regular customers who happen to be in the salon at the same time. I find that weirdly distracting and let's face it, highly embarrassing.

Here, you have your best friend foaming up your hair with shampoo and you're having a time of your life, for that little ten minutes and then suddenly she pulls your hair and goes, "Harry, that's the dude I was telling you about. He just broke up with his boyfriend, shall I hook you both up?"

Most of the times I would yell and scream, "Fuck, that hurts!" and sometimes, when my threshold for pain is a lot higher for that day, I would just roll my eyes and say, "Since he is such a catch, why don't you have him instead? And massage my hair properly bitch thanks."

And god knows how long these random dudes actually spend inside a salon, primping and texturing and layering and colouring and treatment and then actual haircut and then another wash and blow and by the time they make the payment, I would have finished two Bollywood movies back to back. 

But Melanie being Melanie, she would work her way through to get me to stay in her salon, sometimes for an entire shift. She's lucky I am a writer in profession and I work from home because honestly, nobody has time for that kind of shit. And out of respect, as I would always tell her, please stop trying to matchmake me with her frequent customers.

Melanie wouldn't have any of it. Yesterday during one of those random hair massages that I went for in her salon, she did it again. This time it was the new shampoo boy.

"Harry, meet Neil. He is our new shampoo boy and he is studying psychology part time," Melanie smiled sheepishly, like she is the one being matched made.

"Hello," I politely said to Neil. The boy just nodded his head, his face red. 

Welcome to the world of Melanie Matchmaking.

"Neil, you can shampoo Harry's hair first," Melanie said winking (I know, like a fucking pimp).

"No, it's okay I much prefer Melanie to shampoo my hair...right Melanie?" I said, smiling through gritted teeth.

"I'm...b"

"The shop is empty, don't give me that bullcrap, I am not letting a random dude shampoo my hair just because it amuses you to see me getting uncomfortably hooked up with random shampoo dudes Mel! You shampoo my hair right this instant or I am never coming back!" I whispered harshly at Melanie.

Melanie rolled her eyes and said, "At this rate, you will never get laid."

"I will get laid, when you're trying to wash the shampoo of my hair later," I replied curtly.

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