Breaking Up with My Hairdresser


Breaking up is hard to do.

Especially when it’s your hairdresser.

Now I’ve been going to my hairdresser (henceforth known as “Hairdresser”) for about ten years. I first went to Hairdresser after a really bad cut I had by a barber in the village.  A cut so bad, mind you, that it took two cuts and one grow out to fix (I still see the guy in the village who butchered my hair and I’m sure to give him a dirty look each time). But even though my hair was a mess, Hairdresser fixed it. I was thrilled. I had found a new hairdresser!

And for a decade, everything was fine.

Hairdresser did my hair just the way I like it. For every important event in my life, from Your Humble Blogger’s wedding to the photo for my book cover, Hairdresser was there with me.  But the last few years things have been going downhill. I think age has finally caught up with Hairdresser. In fact, the last time I went there the scissors slipped and this happened.


Scissors slipped.

And this wasn’t the first time the scissors had slipped.  It had also happened a year or so ago (but it was on the side of my head that time).

Now to be honest, I’m not all that picky about my hair.  For years I just told the barber to put his clippers on #3 and shave it around the back and ears and blend in the top. It was all simple.

Then I moved to Toronto.

When I first moved here I went to Vidal Sassoon in Yorkville. They were great with the cuts but bloody expensive. I paid over 100 dollars a cut.  “We don’t use clippers at Vidal Sassoon,” they said.

But I digress.

I know it’s time to move on and breakup with Hairdresser. I’ve been asking friends if they would recommend their hairdresser.  Funny enough, most wouldn’t recommend their hairdresser.  So today I took a long walk and I thought I’d try one salon – not too far from my house – but a “Chair for Rent” in the window scared me.  Does that mean anyone with the rent money can cut my hair?

By the way, the last time we were in New York City, the Husband went to Yan’s Barber Shop in the West Village to get a cut from Isaac. the guy who cuts Anderson Cooper’s hair. It looked good and was cheaper than what I paid for my scalping. And the Husband’s hair did look great!


Gratuitous Anderson Cooper photo. Andy gets his hair cut by Isaac in the West Village in NYC

But I digress again.

So for the last months I’ve been trimming my hair myself, trying to decide whether to go back to Hairdresser and take my chances with another slip or try someone else.  But I know I’ll run into Hairdresser walking their dog in the park, or strolling outside, or even at a neighbourhood restaurant. What would one say?  How do you explain why you broke up with your hairdresser?

I think my next Hairdresser will be far away from where I live.

That will make the next breakup a little easier.

Jeffrey, The Gay Groom



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6 responses to “Breaking Up with My Hairdresser

  1. My haircut costs $20 and comes with a free blowjob. (I`m absolutely serious here.) The haircut is pretty good and the bj is the best-ever but I sometimes turn it down. I don`t like receiving one standing up in the back room where the mops and cleaning supplies are kept.

    But what keeps me coming back is that my hairdresser knows ALL the gay gossip in town. He keeps me in the loop and advises me who and who I should not hook up with. I consider all this essential knowledge.

  2. I forgot to add that my hair dresser is smokin` hot, handsome, 36, funny and charming but NOT single. Even without all the other benefits, I would go to him just to be able to stare, close range, at his lean furry torso and well-filled jeans.

  3. Paul

    Hi Jeffrey,
    Sorry to hear about the breakup – but at least you got ten good years! I’ve been struggling with this since I first moved to Toronto. A couple of years ago Now published a guide to the best men’s barbershops in the city. I was determined to find a place where I’d get the perfect cut. Over the following months, armed with the guide, I went on an odyssey that took me to Kensington Market, Forest Hill, the Financial District and Yorkville. With very mixed results. I found myself at a Yorkville Salon one Saturday morning at 9:30, in a room decorated with black velvet and pink neon, house music blasting, greeted by an interestly dressed man who asked me ‘where I wanted my hair to take me’. I stared at him blankly. Maybe there’s too much of the prairie boy left in me for such esoteric questions – but that was the end of my odyssey. I now go to one of the ubiquitous barber shops in the village, describe what I want, and hope for the best.
    PS – I read your entry about buying your rings at Birks. Hilarious! My partner and I are looking at them online at the moment, trying to come to some kind of concensus before we go to the store so we look somewhat sane! Not sure we’ll manage that, though 😉

    • Yes, I remember trying to get to a consensus on the rings. As I recall it took quite a while. And I don’t think either of us are mad about our choice.

      I did get my haircut a few times in the village and it was really hit or miss. And after the big-time miss, I was afraid to go back 🙂

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