If you’re a man and you have hair on your head, then at some point you’ve experienced the trauma of getting an unnecessarily boyish haircut.
It goes like this: you visit the barbershop/salon with doubts that you even want a haircut in the first place. You shrug stupidly and tell the barber/stylist “I don’t know, I guess make it neat,” and then you watch with some trepidation as the barber begins to snip away the outer reaches of the messy long hair you’ve come to know quite well over the months. At first you allow yourself to trust the professional’s instincts and skills. You think you see where he’s going with some of his dubious barbering decisions. “Ah! I see where he’s going with this. Might look sorta okay I suppose.”
But it isn’t long before he ramrods straight through the wall of common-sense you thought would, at least, slow him down. The clicking of his shears starts to sound like some kind of John Deere farm vehicle; he becomes Edward Scissorhands frantically trimming an elephant-shaped bush in order to impress Winona Ryder. You see parts of your face you didn’t know existed. When the last of your shredded locks settles on the tile floor you take a deep breath, look up from the loads of hair pooled in your lap, and behold an outrageously symmetrical haircut which exposes far too much of your cherubic face and leaves your Denis-the-Menace cowlick reaching for the stars.
“Damn!” you think to yourself. “I liked how it was before! A little unkempt, sure, but a little sexy in its own way. What on Earth possessed me to get a haircut in the first place? And does this insane barber actually think he did a good job! Does he actually think I look ‘good’ now? If this was 1953 and I was a 13-year-old-wimpy boy then maybe, maybe, but it’s 2012 and I’m 32, and I’m not even remotely wimpy!” You give the man a five-dollar-tip for expertly removing your self-esteem and then you step out of the barber’s shop to face nakedly the daunting outside world.
On the walk-of-shame back to your vehicle every car that drives by makes you cringe and turn away in embarrassment; surely the girl in the passenger seat was looking at you saying something mean! You feel like a leper. Since you have no hood with which to cover your shame you pretend to scratch an omnipresent itch on your scalp the entire way back to your car just so there’s some kind of barrier between your haircut and the universe. Finally, from the safety of your driver’s seat you simply stare dejectedly at your naked forehead in the rear-view mirror, knowing that as soon as you return to wherever it is you came from, you will be heavily ridiculed, even if it’s all safely done behind your back.
So what’s a guy supposed to do to deal with the horror of an unnecessarily boyish haircut? Is there no hope? Shall we just pray for baldness (which would be the only real cure)?
5 Ways to Deal With Your Unnecessarily Boyish Haircut
1. Use a Hat: If you superglue the back half of any old baseball hat to the chest of your plain white t-shirt—so that the brim faces outward—then people will be so busy closely studying this insane new way to “wear a hat” they will likely not even look up and notice your boyish haircut.
2. Wear a Wig: Put on a long, scruffy wig that roughly matches what your hair used to look like before the massacre. Then go to the same barber that butchered your real hair and have him give the exact same haircut to the wig-hair too. This way, when people make fun of your boyish haircut you’ll have the security of knowing, deep down, that they’re not actually making fun of your real hair. Only the wig. This should take the edge off.
3. Dump Your Girlfriend: If you dump your girlfriend and demand she clear out of the house/apartment before you get home from the barber’s, it’ll no longer be possible for the boyish haircut to get you dumped because there’ll be nobody to dump you. It’ll work.
4. Say You’re Your Own Brother: Tell people you’re actually the younger brother of the man they think you are. Tell them they never knew you existed because you’re actually very, very antisocial and hardly ever leave the house except when “the other me” is away for a few months on vacation. Tell them you’re so anti-social, for instance, that you don’t even know how lame your haircut is, and your doubters would have nothing further to say. You will have backed up your story perfectly and irrefutably. I can personally vouch for this because I’ve done it.
5. Say You’re Starring in a Movie About Oversexed Cosplay Nerds: If you convince your friends that you moonlight as a film actor, and that you had to get your boyish haircut for a semi-pornographic film about oversexed Cosplay nerds, your friends will suddenly be jealous of you. They’ll ask you if any of your sex scenes are “real,” and you can tell them just give them a sly smirk and walk away.