Not-so-super cuts

Some of my best haircuts are by gay guys.

Actually, that's not entirely accurate because all of my best haircuts have been the product of non-heterosexual hair stylists. Despite this obvious trend (and it is very obvious), I can't pinpoint exactly why gay men are so superior to their straight or female counterparts when it comes to this profession. It seems to stem largely from the fact that gay stylists feel comfortable enough -- and perhaps obligated by a sense of duty to clean up straight guys like the fab five on Queer Eye -- to supplement my amateurish requests by applying their own flair, for the lack of a better word. Now, by "flair" I certainly don't mean to imply that I'm frequently the recipient of frosted tips; rather, the word suggests those little touches, like texturizing, which propel your hair one step closer to the holy grail of hairdos: controlled crazy. It's almost as if each one of the gay hairstylists I've had was looking out for my best hair-related interests, and in doing so, strived mightily to construct the best possible configuration of my hair.

Most female hairdressers, on the other hand, take my suggestions too literally, and fail to deviate to any significant degree from the standard "trim" which I request. This repeated outcome is partially my fault, however. I can't deny that I lack an adequate vocabulary for describing exactly what I want done to my hair. Plus, my masculinity prevents me from using one of those hardcover hairstyle books to point out an acceptable look. Because of those shortcomings, our encounter often results in little more than a much shorter version of my current hair, usually crafted with about as much motivation as she could be expected to muster while carrying on an involved conversation about moisturizers with two other equally bored female employees. I guess they figure that guys want nothing more than to leave with a haircut which delays their next appointment for as much time as possible. In many cases, they would not be wrong.

Having a heterosexual male cut my hair, on the other hand, virtually guarantees a military-style flat top, with the probability increasing to 1000% if said male is a barber. Sure, he asks me what I would like done, but the barber’s interpretation of my answer is invariably flat on top, short on the sides. As a strict constructionist, he flatly refuses to accept any of these “new-fangled” trends that us “kids” prefer.

Realizing that straight males and women bring ruination upon my head, when I enter a hair-cutting establishment, be it salon, barbershop, or generic chain, I immediately scope the scene, hoping -- no, praying -- that there is a gay hair stylist to address my hair-related needs. I'm never proactive about it -- that is, I don't actively seek them -- but if one is working that day, I give my name, sit down, and watch intently as the other customers receive their reckoning, knowing full well that I will either be sheared carelessly like a sheep, buzzed up like a soldier, or, if fate spares me, able to rejoin the world with a confident swagger.

Maybe the next time when I'm in pursuit of controlled crazy, and I hear "next" only to look up to see a straight guy standing there waiting for me, I'll refuse and save myself the indignity of a bad haircut. He is heterosexual, after all. Not that there's anything wrong with that.