Darling Don't You Go And Cut Your Hair

The last haircut I had was early August in London. As part of what was meant to be somewhat of a renewal for me, I decided to do something I'd never done before - I went to a "stylist". I was hoping that a new styled haircut would be a factor in not only giving me a boost of confidence in my new life overseas, but also help me to finally attract a mate. Back in 2001 I was working for Enron India in a warehouse in Borough, just south of London Bridge. It was during this job that I befriended a young Namibian man called Dieter. When I first met Dieter he had flowing ginger locks almost shoulder length and a full and manly beard. He looked like a Germanic Jesus. One day Dieter came to work with a fetching new haircut, heads turned and comments were made. I approached Dieter and said "Hey man, sexy new haircut", he responded "Yeah man, Base on Berwick Street, you should go get yourself one". And so five years later I decided to take his advice. Base is located down the "colourful" end of Berwick St. There's the markets selling banal items with the spruikers constantly talking football, and that little alleyway full of porn shops. Base is situated on the right of the markets (if you have your back to Oxford St.) and next to the Music and Video Exchange where I once bought a 7" of "Birthday" by The Sugarcubes. Whilst the head massage I received whilst getting my hair washed was magnificent, upon leaving Base I had what I considered only a reasonable haircut (and a sizable hole in my wallet), and so since then I have been cutting my own hair.
Back in Grade 5 I had a crush on this girl called Melissa Fox. Unfortunately for me, Melissa didn't want anything to do with me. Thinking that it must have had something to do with my hair, I decided to give it a trim. The results weren't as impressive as I had hoped, and in a wit beyond her years, Marie Psiakis made the observation that while Vanilla Ice had "channels", I had "patches". At the beginning of Grade 6 I decided to get an "undercut" and was convinced that this would finally be the hair style that would convince Melissa I was worthy of her attention. The morning before I went to school with my new haircut I was looking in the mirror and thought to myself "It needs something else, something really special", and so I took out a jar of hair gel and spiked it. Bruce Samazan was the teen heart-throb at the time and I thought if I spiked my hair like his Melissa wouldn't be able to resist me. I was wrong. Upon arriving at school I walked past her and she laughed, a cruel and brutal laugh. I was heartbroken.
Since then, however, my skills at cutting and styling my own hair have vastly improved and I am actually more pleased with my hair now than I have ever been. That said, it has still yet to bring me the affections of any nice girls.