A word about the alphabet

My hairdresser is a man. A straight man. The first time a straight man did my hair was in London. I assumed he was the exception to the rule, and I also assumed that he would fuck up my hair. I was wrong on both counts. In the seven years we lived there, I am sure that only one gay man ever styled my hair. Not only did a straight man style our hair for our wedding, but our wedding florist was a straight man, too. England is a queer place to be sure.

When I get my hair done, I usually bring a book to read during the couple of hours it takes to make hair magic. Semi-permanent color and a cut. I appreciate the forced quarantine from parenthood and housewifery, so I use the time to read. And sometimes I’m just not in the mood to chat with my hairdresser. Yesterday, I brought my book, but we chatted anyway. It was my fault. I started it.

Deborah: Hey, didn’t you say you were going to take some hair styling classes in the city?

Straight Male Hair Dresser: Yeah, as a matter of fact I’ve been going. I’m learning a lot.

D: Oh good. I mean, not ‘oh good’ like you could really use some lessons, but I remembered that you were excited about it.

SMHD: Yeah, yeah, I’ve been picking up a lot of new techniques for coloring and highlights. I’ve been trying to find virgin hair to practice on. It’s hard to find virgin hair. I have to find college kids, you know, people who haven’t started coloring their hair, yet.

D: I’d offer you mine, but it’s clearly not virginal. My hair is slutty.

SMHD: Hyeah…

D: But she still hasn’t gone for the full-on permanent color. She’s more of a tease with the semi-permanent stuff. You know, like she’ll take it in, but she won’t swallow.

SMHD: Well, actually, your hair swallows. Hair is porous, and she’s drinking it up right now.

D: Oh god you’re right. She feels so dirty right now.

SMHD: Speaking of taking it and swallowing, I picked up a new kind of technique from a buddy of mine.

D: Yeah?

SMHD: Letters.

D: What?

SMHD: Letters. Like the alphabet. When you’re down there…you know?

D: oh LETTERS!

SMHD: Yeah, you use your tongue to write capital letters.

D: Why capital letters?

SMHD: You cover more territory and maximize the anticipation factor.

D: Huh.

SMHD: Funny right – that I’m telling you what women like? You could probably tell me a thing or two.

D: Probably.

I wasn’t surprised or put-off to be talking tongue with my SMHD. We talked about other things, too, like um, well I can’t remember “off the top of my head”, but that might be because my porous hair sucked down too much of that color, and now my brain is a skanky, bloated mess and is in desperate need of the morning after rinse.

Confession. A straight man taught me to love women.

In my first job out of college, I dealt with a number of artists and illustrators. There was one Artist Guy in particular that I saw often. He did advertising and licensing work to pay the bills, and he did his own gallery work on the side. AG was around 30 when I knew him. He was fit and pretty and looked more like a Chelsea gay than most of the Chelsea gays, but he was straight and married. AG loved women with a passionate reverence. He could see the beauty and sensuality in every woman no matter her age or skin color or body type, and I learned to see women through his eyes and find something attractive about them all.

I spent 4 years at a Women’s (Womyn’s) College waving my fist at the evils of patriarchy and the objectification of women. We found oppression everywhere. I was definitely not fun at a party. AG taught me to embrace the objectification instead of suppressing it, and I am forever grateful. Because you know what? Women are hot! And lusting after women does not make me unfaithful or disrespectful or foul. Lusting after all women makes me an artist. That's what I tell Gabriella, anyway.