I finally couldn’t take it anymore. The end of a long hair experiment. Back to the life of a normie old guy. I got a haircut yesterday. It made me a little sad. Cutting my hair was confirmation that I will never be the cool surfer guy I always wanted to be. Now I look just like every other late middle aged dude. The only thing missing is a fanny pack and white New Balance sneakers.

I suppose I should be grateful that I still have plenty of hair on my head. Haven’t lost any of it. And thanks to my maternal grandfather, almost no grey yet. Hair is a funny thing. Speaking only for dudes, you either have good hair or you don’t. There is no in-between. Somewhere towards the end of high school, guys tend to have established their “haircut”. For most men that never changes – at least until they become follicle challenged and have to commit to the comb over, Rogaine, or simply shaving it.

I don’t know why, but I never figured out my standard haircut. It’s literally different every time. There’s been mullets, crew cuts, flat tops, longer, shorter, you name it I’ve had it. I’m sure I’m the worst sort of customer for stylists/barbers. When they ask, “what are we doing today?”, I go into a rambling “I don’t know, maybe shorter here, I don’t remember the clipper size, I guess above the ears, what do you think would look good?” answer.

How is it possible I’m a grown-ass, old guy and I still don’t know what my standard haircut is?

Anyway, this last go ’round I got it into my head that I wanted long hair. I figured at least while I still have hair why not let it grow? I may or may not have had some sort of Brad Pitt look from Legends of the Fall in my mind. So I let it grow. And grow. For a while I liked it. I felt like maybe it made me look a bit younger. Maybe a little bit of a biker vibe going on. It was different, not the standard white guy haircut that everyone else has. Next, a mustache appeared. Now I really did have some sort of free spirit, ski bum, adventure guy thing happening. I briefly thought I looked cool.

And then the hair started becoming a pain in the butt. It was in my face. It got in my eyes when I wore a motorcycle or bike helmet. I started wearing a ball cap every day rather than deal with it. It wasn’t quite ponytail material, but we weren’t that far off. I was stuck in the dreaded in-between stage. Not long enough to pull back out of the way, too long to be manageable every day.

I normally just go to whatever barber is closest and available – which is probably not someone who’s going to be able to help me figure out a style. Mrs Troutdog offered to find someone at her hair salon who can work on longer mens hair. That’s when I started thinking that this simply wasn’t worth it anymore. I am no fashion icon. Regular appointments at a “hair salon” just isn’t who I am. And then Mrs Troutdog issued the final blow when she told me the mustache wasn’t working for her. I was crushed. My dreams of being the cool surfer, skier, biker dude vanished at that moment.

I shaved my face. It looks naked and pudgy. The next day I went to the closest Supercuts and told the gal (who happened to be a trainee) to shave it all off. I think she asked me three or four times is that really what I wanted, before she started in the with clippers. Like the biblical figure Samson, I felt my superpowers drifting away with every snip of the scissors. And just like that, I was back to my regular look. Hair that’s sort of cowlicky, sticking up in random places that I try to contain with whatever hair goop I happen to have on hand. The standard look of the middle aged male.

I’ll admit it’s easier this way. I can wear a hat without hair sticking out in every direction. It’s not going to get in my eyes when I’m riding the bike. I don’t have to live in fear of wind. I don’t have to take a shower or put on a hat just to run to the corner store in the morning. But deep down, I kind of miss it. But reality is that I don’t look like Brad Pitt, with or without the hair. I’m sure I looked ridiculous. But for a brief moment, the longer hair made me feel a little bit cooler than I really am.

Well, c’est la vie, that’s life. It’s only hair. Fortunately for me, it grows back. Maybe someday I’ll try it again.

I did notice that we have a new high-end mens barber down the street. Maybe I can drift into some sort of a shaved viking warrior cut?