My hair has been a mess for a couple weeks and I've been too lazy to make an appointment to get it cut so I decided to go to a barber today.

I realized this morning that I haven't had a man cut my hair since I was a boy and went to my father's barber. Eventually, my aunt started cutting it and then one female stylist after another over the years. When my regular gal who's been cutting my hair since 1998 was on maternity leave, I went to a barber, but the barber available when I showed up was a woman. A woman who reeked of cigarettes and a tuna fish sandwich. Gross, but she gave a good cut.

I went to a shop that Deek goes too. "It's run by an old Mormon guy and he does a great job," he said. "Oh, and his son is very nice to look at."

He wasn't kidding. And he's the guy who cut my hair. He did a great job too.

Afterwards, I went to Deek's to show him my haircut and ask him a question.

"So when you're getting your hair cut, does the son press his cock against your arm when he's cutting? Cause that happened several times. Not that I'm complaining."

"Oh yeah, that's the bonus of getting your hair cut by the son and not the dad."

"I'll say. I gave him a big tip too for that," I said.

"Hell yeah! I usually just give the dad a dollar. I give the son five."

"Me too!"

I now see the benefits of going to barber.