Shaved Beef

This is a hypothetical story that may or may have not happened. I'll be the first to say that you would need wings to fly above the pile of weird shit that's intersected my path from point A to point A.5 so far, but this hypothetical story is one of the more weird. It starts with me trying to find a new girl to cut my hair.

I knew a girl that cut hair that I had talked to in the past and she commented on how good my hair was. I don't mind being stroked and started talking to her once I had asked her to take her top up a button because she was really trying to hard. I'm a man of business when it comes to finding a new manscaper. I had no idea how far this was going to go. So, we talked a bit and then parted ways. We exchanged numbers which ended with some extremely explicit text messages from her which in turn lead to an extremely implicit deletion of a contact.

So, down the road, I was a little desperate for a local girl to cut my hair and I knew where to find her. It was the bar, of course, my center of commerce and culture. Commerce being free peanuts and culture being people that never made you apologize the day after a bender, but appreciated it and welcomed you back.

She walked in while I was there after work and we talked a bit. We played some dice and then an extreme game of bar Yahtzee that may or may not have resulted in an under-the-bar HJ. This strayed deviantly from the task at hand which was to find a new set of clippers locally. The good news? I found a new girl to cut my hair that knew how to work with a puff of hair surrounding a giant scar. The bad news? I may have made a future haircut uncomfortable.

So, I explained to her that grabbing a dude's junk in public was totally inappropriate and she suggested that she give me a ride home. I jumped on the ride home because I was wasted. BIG MISTAKE.

So, one thing lead to another and I had a grown woman in my shower. That's if a grown woman is 21 years old. Women do mature faster than men, though, so she gets the benefit. All of that is pretty normal on a Tuesday, but it gets weird in a second.

I handed her a towel in the name of chivalry not being dead and she asked me to jump in. This is exactly what went through my head in giant letters: "WHATEVER."

I'll cut through the boring parts and just jump to the part of having razor burn below the belt.

I'm a self-admitted manscaper, but it's been since marriage that I let a girl do that. It's the opposite of how a sandwich is better if someone else makes it for you. Swear. Same sandwich made by someone else is better.

Now, the good news about the whole thing is that I may have a last ditch haircut if I need it and I know she cuts all styles and may even throw in a shave. Plus, I was asleep by midnight. That, my friends, is the sound of winning.