Gateway Rub

Men, I want to tell you a cautionary tale so that you may learn from my experience.  I recently visited a new establishment, a kind of place I had never been before.  The type of transactions they conduct here are the kinds that I am used to enjoying in the privacy of my own home, for free.  But my wife told me she no longer wanted to help, so I sought service elsewhere.  I had heard about this place from a friend; you always hear about this kind of place from a friend.  Word of mouth is their lifeblood.

Upon entering the building I saw a several other men, all of whom avoided eye contact.  A woman approached, asking me a few questions about what I was looking for today.  She told me since this was my first visit they would throw in a little extra treatment for free.  Ah, yes, the first one is always free.  That's how they get ya.  After a little further discussion I was told to have a seat and that "Brandy* will be right with you."  A few minutes later Brandy, a reluctant smile upon her face, led me back.  After a little action, Brandy led me to a dimly lit room for my "MVP Service".

If you are still reading this, you may think I am some sort of pervert.  If you do, I submit it is you who is the perv because I am just talking about getting a haircut.

I had gone to uh...the place that Rhymes With SportBlips because The Wife had decided my hair had gotten long enough and thick enough that it may have exceeded her amateur barber capabilities.  I chose Rhymes With SportBlips because I liked the idea of watching basketball while I waited instead of flipping through a decades-old People magazine.  I chose Rhymes With SportBlips because I don't like small talk with strangers and thought televisions blasting the MLB Network might render it unnecessary.  (They don't.)

Now, I can't say Rhymes With SportBlips is like a whorehouse.  How could I, I've never been to a whorehouse?  I do know, however, that a haircut shouldn't feel skeevy.  And at Rhymes With SportBlips, it does kind of feel unsavory.  The haircut is normal enough, but that MVP treatment gets a little sketchy.  You are led to this darkened room and have a seat in a recliner for the shampoo.  The next thing I know, the chair is vibrating, I have a hot towel on my face (Which feels fantastic, by the way.) and the shampoo has morphed into a full-on head massage.  I don't know about you, but I feel a head massage is a pretty intimate bit of business.  It felt great, though, and there lies the lesson gentlemen.  Don't let the MVP head massage be a Gateway Rub.  Because who knows what you'll go looking for next time. 

*Name changed to protect the innocent. And because I have no memory of the stylist's real name.  For the record, Brandy was courteous, professional and was probably far more skeeved at having to massage my lumpy head than I was by having my head rubbed.