Is Cutting Hair Having An Affair?

My friend just asked me to cut his hair. He was painting today and hit his head on the ceiling and now he looks like he’s eighty-five with the white paint all over his head.

We were on our way to dinner, both of us bargaining for what we wanted. I wanted to go to Cheesecake Factory. He wanted his hair cut, but I was too hungry to argue. I said, “Throw a hat on, we can deal with it after dinner.”

He said the paint was poisoning him, seeping into his brain with each moment we sat there. He wanted me to cut his hair in my bathroom. I said, “Not my place, yours.”

He said, “What, you don’t want all that nigga hair in your bathroom?” He laughed, but I could hardly believe he said that.

I said, “Cutting hair is an intimate act. Maybe you should ask your girlfriend.”

He joked, “What, we can watch lesbian porn documentaries, but we have to draw the line at a hair cut?”

“I ain’t your woman.” I used his line back at him and we laughed.

I hate finding someone new to cut my hair. Because it is like having sex with someone—there’s this whole process of getting to know the person and trusting them with your hair.