The ‘haircut talk’

I dread the ‘haircut talk.’ It’s always the same thing – the beautiful/gloomy weather, the weekends, or their pets. I am not a talker, and, sometimes, I seriously don’t give a fuck about their pets and their plans for the upcoming weekend. I love to close my eyes and let the buzzing machine put me to sleep. Alas! it doesn’t work that way. They need to strike up a conversation and even though I don’t want to talk, I eventually have to give in to their persistent questions, their prying nature. And when I do, I always end up with the same topic: my lady.

Maybe I never get a haircut in my own town. I let them know where I’m from and what I’m doing here and their prying nature sets in. Or maybe I love to talk about her with other people — I let them pry. I could just pretend to go to school there, talk about some other things, but I just can’t. I have to tell them that I was there to see my baby.

Today was no different. I told the hair dresser how long I’d been in a relationship for , and she asks me about my future plans, when I plan on marrying my girlfriend of eight years, and how I am going to propose to the beautiful lady. I guess, she was amused to know that we’ve been dating for so long but not engaged yet. And I told her I never really thought about all those things, and how marriage would ruin everything (I had to say something); she agreed, albeit hesitantly.

I know for a fact that the next time I go in for a haircut, I will end up talking about my sweetheart again. And they’ll ask the same questions and I’ll have the same answers. Maybe, someday, the topic will change. And even though I’ll be talking with the same smile, the same passion and the same love , I will, hopefully, be referring to my lady as my gorgeous wife.

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