Where should men go for the equivalent of our feminine days at the salon? A locker room backrub, perhaps? A tranquil, darkened massage school den, maybe? It used to be less confusing. Man salons were called Barber Shops which had the candy cane pole outside the establishment. The pole represented a place where you could get a buzz cut and a nice smooth facial shave. We have no such warning device for men on beauty salons. Even the word “beauty” does not repel some men.
One such man is Fred.
My daughter Krista and I went to have our hair cut and mine colored at our favorite salon. One of the latest perks they’re offering now is a “Head Massage” during the “conditioner” application phase. It’s pleasurable, but doesn’t make my foot thump or anything. Still, it’s better than JUST a shampooing and conditioning, and since it’s included, I wasn’t going to stop her. When it was over, Krista said, “Mom. That was weird.” For me, even though my head was being kneaded, my neck was in an awkward position. I had to put a heating pad on it when I got home. I had a better experience with my latest mammogram.
Fred on the other hand, came home from work with his hair cut. He had stopped at a nearby beauty salon on way home.
“Have you ever had a “Head Massage?” Fred, flushed from the experience, sheepishly asked.
“Yeah, did you like it?
”It was AWESOME. When she finished, I said, “Is it OVER?””
“You did not!”
I am mildly jealous that some salon tart has found Fred’s new G-spot. I’ll bet Ernie the Barber doesn’t indulge his clients with tantalizing fingers! Hair only grows so fast, so if Fred starts coming home with a perm or highlights, I’ll know I have Head Massage Junkie on my hands.
Maybe there’s a “patch” for that?