GenQ - For the not so straight individual

Well, perhaps I should shorten the title to “Finding and keeping a male hairdresser�. We know that all male hairdressers are gay, aren’t they?

Well, some, but certainly not all. I used to have my hair cut by a straight boy called Neil, and he did a very good job (mind you, he had a cute apprentice named Corey who was anybody’s bottom boy if you played your cards right!).

But I am getting ahead of myself. I live in a provincial city, you see. Not a tiny one, but not one anywhere near as big and Sydney or Melbourne – or even Adelaide (God forbid). And when I first moved here several years ago, I didn’t know my way about. So my hair kinda grew and grew, eventually joining up with my eyebrows and nasal hair, which is not a good look.

Fortunately, help was at hand in the form of an AIDS fundraiser (yes, we do have such events in provincial cities). Included was a hair-a-thon at a local hairdresser, and, guess what, that’s where I found Neil and Corey. Needless to say, I gave a sizable donation (remember my point about playing your cards right?).

From then on, whenever I needed a snippity snip (believe it or not, a Melbourne gay hairdresser once had a salon by that name), it was off to see Neil and Corey. Corey would wash my hair and massage my scalp, while I gazed longingly into his beautiful eyes. Then Neil would then take over with the scissors, clippers etc, and I would come out feeling like a new man (and often found one).

But, alas, I moved away for a time, and when I returned, my hairdressing salon had closed, and there was no sign of Neil or Corey (perhaps Neil had turned gay and they had eloped).

So, once again, the search was on for a male hairdresser, preferably a gay one. It’s not that I have objections to women cutting my hair, but there’s something about those big, masculine hands and that manly aroma that make “being serviced by� a male hairdresser extra satisfying. And with a gay one, there’s always the opportunity to gossip, which we queens love to do, especially in a provincial city!

I had a dry run for awhile, slowly turning into the Wolf Man, and even resorting to getting my hair cut from a gay mate when I visited Melbourne to see my mum. However, my mum passed away last year, and those trips to Melbourne for a haircut were becoming a tad expensive, so I had to make a stronger effort to find a gay barber here in Sticksville.

Fortunately, help was at hand. A friend of mine mentioned that his boyfriend used to cut hair, and was setting up a salon right under his house. Bliss! It wasn’t long before I was making regular trips to Kim’s, where I even ran into actress Diane Cilento one day (yes, she seems to prefer gay male hairdressers, too).

But the other day I committed the ultimate sin. When Kim was putting a very strong gel, called Hard Up (yes, really) in my hair, I asked if one could buy it at the supermarket.

“At the supermarket?!!� he retorted. “No! You can’t buy Hard Up at the SUPERMARKET!� He said it as if “supermarket� was lower in status than the local garbage dump.

“Oh, how thoughtless of me – I am sorry�, I squealed, just quickly enough to avoid being hauled off, kicked onto the street, and told never to set foot inside Kim’s door again (which would have set me back to square one).

So, the moral of the story is, IF you find a gay male hairdresser, don’t move away, and, never, never, never, even hint that his products could be bought at the supermarket. If you do, you risk a fate worse than death!