After Service Date

I opened an OkCupid account not long ago.

So far, I haven’t had too much luck with matches there. I’m 23, not very tall, and have a very, very average look. They say most women fight over the same top 20% of men on these apps, and I accept that with maturity and love. It doesn’t bum me out too much that I don’t have matches; it just gets a bit tiring over time. There are plenty of cute girls I manage to start talking to, but developing a conversation from there is a bit tough. Beyond “where are you from,” “what are you studying,” “what do you do for work,” it’s a bit hard to get things flowing if it’s not face-to-face. And here we get stuck in this loop, because to get to the face-to-face stage, you need to maintain a correspondence long enough to build trust. In short, a complex event.

One of the questions there was “What are you weirdly attracted to?”

Out of instinct, I wrote—huge bonus if you have a bob cut.

I’ve always had a thing for girls with short hair, and over time I realized that some girls who cut their hair short lose a bit of their self-confidence (at least for the initial period; usually they become more confident than before after a few months), so complimenting them on it buys you a lot of points. I wondered if a sentence like that might distance girls with long hair who love their long hair, like most girls I know, but as mentioned, I didn’t think about it too much.

When you don’t have many matches, you just swipe right on everyone, and that’s what I did out of boredom before bed one night. In the morning, I saw a new match—from maybe the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen here.

The name that appeared on the screen was Talia. She had big green eyes, a perfect physique. Breasts that weren’t too big and were proportional. Long, lush blonde hair with bangs that framed her face perfectly. From the photos that appeared, you could see she had an excellent sense of fashion, and she was dressed in a way that really caught my eye. Perfect, in short. I was very surprised she liked me back.

Of course, I immediately wrote her a message. Out of sheer awe, I couldn’t think of anything too creative, so I wrote to her, “What’s up?”

Surprisingly, she answered quickly.

“I’m good, what about you?”

Wow. Heart beating at a very fast pace.

From here it’s not too interesting. The conversation flowed pretty well. It turned out we were very similar and our lives overlapped at different times—I grew up in Holon and finished high school a year before her. She grew up in Rishon but was born in Holon. We have a few mutual friends, but no one either of us is very close to. She just got released from the army after two years of service; I finished miluim after almost four. Beyond that, we had a lot of shared interests—I’m obsessed with Dr. House, and she really recommended this new HBO series to me, The Pitt.

“Look Talia, I have to say, I feel a real connection between us. I didn’t expect this to happen to me here, and certainly not so fast. I really want us to go on a date, are you down for Wednesday evening?”

Heavy heartbeats.

“…”

She’s typing and stopping.

“Yes sure, but there’s a small problem.”

Oh no. What did I do?

“I don’t have a bob cut.”

Wow. Okay. Phew. Did I dig myself a hole? Or am I okay? How do I minimize the damage on this?

“Hahaha you’re crazy, I wrote that as a joke. I’ll take you with any hair length, don’t worry.”

“Hahaha I just wanted to make you laugh. Wednesday night is great, it’s a date.”

After a few weeks, I found myself in a relationship. We started with one date, then two, then twice a week, then we talked every day. I wrote her good morning, I went to sleep with her. I thought about her at every given moment. A classic story like that, I guess.

Friday morning-afternoon, we went for a walk in Tel Aviv. A “walk,” “Tel Aviv,” we were just hanging around Nahalat Binyamin and I wanted to make it sound dramatic. We grabbed ice cream at Eyal Shani’s Casseta, it was really tasty. I took that lemon flavor, she took chocolate-banana.

“You know, we’re a bit chocolate-banana.”

“What?”

“Well, I’m blonde like this, relatively fair. You’re Iraqi, thick black hair. Skin a bit dark.”

“Why, do you have a problem with my hair?”

“Actually, yes, you must get a haircut.”

For context, I was released from the army a few months ago. In the army, I always had a buzzcut—never bald of course, but at the peak I had 3mm on my head and that was it. Now the hair had grown a bit, maybe a bit in all directions and maybe without much order. But I loved it, I’m free, and after all, it’s not like there’s a war right now. I hated feeling almost bald all the time; we also had a prick of a rasar who checked us down to the millimeter.

“I saw pictures of you from your service with a buzzcut, honestly you were much more handsome.”

Okay? How am I supposed to react to that.

“Look Talia, I was in the army for a long time. I missed having hair, let me enjoy it a bit.”

“But you’re really hot with a buzzcut.”

“Wow, you are totally the first one to say that. If it’s really important to you then let me think about it a bit.”

We kept walking. Suddenly I see that Talia stopped by some shop. “Let’s go in,” she says. I flowed with her.

I realize it’s a barbershop.

“Hey, are you free now?” she asked the barber. A bald guy, who looked a bit too young to be bald. My heart goes out to him. “Actually, two customers just canceled on me, I can fit you in, but just so you know I don’t really cut women’s hair, only simple things. Ends and such.”

“Is a bob considered simple?” she said with such nonchalance, as if she does it every day.

Needless to say, I was a bit surprised. “Talia, are you serious about this?” I asked her, and she looked me straight in the eyes. “You said it’s your thing, no? I’ll do a bob and you’ll do a buzzcut.”

I paused for a moment. “But why would you do that? Your hair is beautiful, you love it.” In the meantime, I thought about it a bit more deeply. I would be really comfortable with a buzzcut. I could also cut it myself at home afterward. I wanted hair and to look good to meet someone, and here, I met her. What do I care about being a bit ugly from now on? And if it’s important to her, then it’s important to her. But do I really want her to do a bob? My instinct says yes, but in the long run, I don’t know. For me, the hair will grow back really fast; for her, it will take a bit longer. Definitely a few months, with her length maybe even two years. I don’t want her to hate me during that time, when she wakes up in the morning and her hair doesn’t settle right or when she goes to some wedding and doesn’t feel beautiful enough.

“I’ve always wanted to do a bob, that’s one of the reasons I liked you,” at this stage I looked into her eyes, and we both expressed a kind of agreement, like those couples or friendships of years, where it’s enough for them to communicate only with a look. This was the first time we communicated like this, but it felt very real and authentic. She’s into it, and I love her, and I think she loves me too.

The barber interrupted our gaze. “So I didn’t get it, who’s getting a haircut?”

“Both of us,” I was called to the flag. “And me first.”

“Come on habibi, what did you think?”

“Give me a buzzcut, your most standard, army style. Short and all that.”

“Locked in achi, on it. Sit down.”

I sat down, he put that cape on me. Without too much advance warning or caution, he pressed the clipper to my head, straight from the front. Bzzzzzzzzz. I feel the tickle of the hair falling on my nose and cheeks. I feel the machine a bit too close to the scalp, so I ask him, “Tell me achi, what number are you doing?”

“Right now I’m doing a 1, but later we’ll see how it turns out if you want us to go down to 0.”

“Wait wait wait, what’s a 0? You want to give me a bald head, are you for real?”

“Brother, that’s what you said, if you don’t like it get up with half a bald spot in the middle of your head. Do I continue?”

Talia in the background is cracking up, in a way that’s no longer friendly. “It’s okay, Ohadi. I’m in favor of a 0 already.” Here I stopped her. “No no, definitely not a 0. If you started with 1, continue with 1, and this is the last time I surrender to you, Tuli.” First time Talia called me by a nickname, Ohadi instead of Ohad, so I gave it back to her with Tuli. This is really starting to feel like a relationship…

The barber continues his thing, and I continue to go bald against the mirror. Damn it. I hope this isn’t a plot of hers to make me look ugly so other girls won’t want me, because I don’t think anyone would want to date this egg-head ugliness.

“My dear friend (achikar), should I do a fade for you?”

“Is there even anything left to fade? I thought it’s all 1.”

“We can do a 0 on the sides.”

“Fine, damn it, so I don’t look like an egg.”

If an egg, then better a faded egg. The barber pulled out the more specialized machine, the one for fades, and started shaving my sides completely. Down to the skin level, like with the truly bald guys. Behind the ear, at the nape, almost to the top of the head. He finished, sprayed some alcohol on me that really stung, and sent me on my way. I raised my hand to touch it, and I felt it. Actual skin. In the army, we weren’t allowed to fade like that, so I never did it. First time I have areas that are truly ‘bald’. I stood up to Talia, and she also ran her hand over my head. “Wow, how pleasant this is.” “You’re going to regret this, Talia.” She giggled and told me, “Wait, wait, I don’t think you’ll have too much hair in the coming years at this rate.”

“Come on, I want to close up here, are you getting a haircut or are you guys leaving?”

“Yes, I’m coming.”

She kissed me goodbye and went to sit in the chair. On her, the barber didn’t put the cape; I guess he thought it wasn’t necessary, and started wetting her hair. “Tell me, do you want to donate? It seems to me you have a lot of hair, but it will come out really short,” he said to Talia, half as a recommendation and half as a warning. “How short?” she asked, with cheeks that started to blush a bit. “Something…” he says while pointing his scissors toward the area between her ears and her shoulders, and stopping exactly in the middle, “like this.”

“Go for it,” I told him without hesitation.

“Man, I don’t care what’s going on between you, it’s her decision.”

“Do it,” Talia said and giggled. “And just so you know, I forced him to get a haircut, and not the other way around.”

“Ya Rabbi, all the weirdos fall on me,” the barber said as he went to bring the cape to put on Talia. “Are you sure you need this?” she asked him, and he asked back if she wants all her clothes to be filled with hairs. She answered no and let him place the cape on her carefully.

“Do you want to do the last braid? It will probably take some time until your next one.”

Talia’s facial expression became almost sad for a second, and I almost felt bad. However, a moment later, her look became cunning and satisfied, like the look of a waitress who noticed she was left a tip that’s more than 15 percent. “Yes, I’d love to,” she said and started braiding her hair into two braids—one on the right side and the second on the left. “Come on, excellent,” said the barber, who was clearly showing on his face that he already wants to close for today. And without much dwell time in between, he turned on his machine and started shaving the braids, roughly in the area he marked for her initially. A bit shorter, actually. The first braid he shaved perfectly, and the hair poured out almost neatly on the side of Talia’s head. The hair sat nicely past her cheek, a bit after the ear, and stayed in the air slightly above the shoulder. The second braid caused some problems—the barber started shaving it, and the machine got stuck in the middle. “Dammit (Semek-Ars),” he grumbled and went to the side to bring another one. “Listen, don’t get stressed, I’m just doing it with a machine because with scissors it takes an hour and I don’t have much time before the start of Shabbat. I’m bringing the more serious one.”

At this stage, Talia started laughing, maybe because of my worried facial expression. “Why are you getting stressed, Ohadi? Are you afraid I’ll end up like you?” “No Tuli, I’m afraid he’ll finish us off. Poor guy, we fell on him like this a minute before the start of Shabbat.” After I said that, the barber for the first time expressed an emotion that wasn’t stressed. “My brother, it’s all good, I’m always in favor of more livelihood (parnasa),” he said and winked, while returning with the more serious machine toward Talia. “Come on, ten minutes I’ll snap you out of here and home. Because this is a donation I also won’t take money, it’s a blessing.” Here he grabbed the braid and pressed the threatening machine to it—so that the braid was quickly and efficiently severed from the rest of Talia’s head. However, here there was a small problem, and the hair poured out in a way that was much closer to the cheek and the ears than to the shoulder. “Tell me… isn’t this a bit too short?” Talia asked, this time with real concern in her eyes. “What’s with you, you didn’t do the braids well, that’s why it happened. Not a big deal, you’ll have a bit of a shorter bob.”

“What is ‘shorter’?”

“It will end roughly…” he said, with the same movement with which he presented the haircut before he started cutting, on the longer side of the hair, and stopped roughly at Talia’s chin “…here!” “Oh, that’s not so ba—” and before Talia could finish the sentence, he had already cut the hair on that side. With meticulous thoroughness and effectiveness, the barber quickly circled around Talia’s head and cut all the hair into one unified length, exactly as he demonstrated. Apparently, this time he was more careful not to shorten it beyond that. Talia, in my opinion, didn’t fully digest what was happening, even though the process itself was significantly slower than the initial severing. “Tilt your head forward,” he told her, and she did so, and he began to cut the back. Right at the line of the ears, he made sure the hair didn’t bypass the middle of the nape. Talia’s exposed nape was quite hairy, more than I expected. But I don’t really know what I expected; I’ve never seen a girl’s nape in such a situation. “Don’t be alarmed, I’m just tidying up a bit,” the barber said as he turned on the machine and brought it closer to Talia’s head. I don’t think she noticed at first because her eyes were downward. He started shaving her nape as expected. “Wait, what are you doing?” “Don’t worry, just a bit of a frame, must. It will grow back nicer,” and continued his work. He circled around Talia a few more times, fixed things here and there. Ensured the length was identical on both sides this time, starting at the tip of the chin and ending at the nape.

“And… that’s it! What do you think?”

Talia looked at herself in the mirror and loved what she saw. The long hair that once weighed on her head and hid a lot of who she was, now ended at her chin. She turned her head from side to side, looked at the sides, and loved what she saw. She saw the sharpness with which the hair ended in the back, the cleanliness in the shaved nape. She looked straight ahead again, and liked it a bit less this time. “Tell me, don’t you think the hair hides a bit of my face when it’s like this?” she said to the air. And I honestly agreed. Something in this length caused the hair to fall forward, in a way that hid part of her face. I also felt it would be hard for her to drive like that, because it definitely hides part of her side vision. “You’re right,” said the barber, and approached her with his scissors. Without warning in advance, he gathered a bunch of hair from the front of her head, tack cut the hair. What remained behind was a coarse and thick doll-fringe, which now provided a frame for Talia’s face. Talia didn’t know how to react, and honestly, neither did I, but it looked good. After a few seconds of silence, the barber asked, “Well?” and out of instinct, I answered him, “Amazing. You’re an artist.”

“My brother, once again, I didn’t ask you. What do you think, Talia?”

“Wow. You’re an artist.”

She got up, shook her head a bit. Walked slowly toward me, as if getting used to the new weight of her head. “It looks good on you,” I told her. She stroked my head and said, “On you too.” I felt a bit of a shiver. For a moment I forgot that I also got a haircut, and was almost surprised by the touch of her hand on my rather bare head.

“Come on, Shabbat Shalom, and thank you,” the barber said, as if dying for us to leave already.

“Wait achi, we didn’t pay.”

“It’s all good my brother, it’s on me, both for Shabbat and the hair donation.”

“Fine, I didn’t donate,” I told him and placed a 100-shekel bill on the counter. I saw a business card there too and took it. Before he had time to react, I gave Talia a little slap on the ass to go outside and we ran out of there.

“It’s not right not to pay. He put in the work after all.” “Yeah,” Talia answered me. “You’re really handsome like this.” “Don’t get used to it,” I answered her. “Tomorrow I start growing it out.”

“You’re dreaming (Chai be’seret),” she answered me. “I just took off six years of work. Say thank you that you didn’t do a 0 buzz after the mistake he made on me.”

“But you’re also starting to grow it out tomorrow.”

“I can’t say for sure, but I’m not so certain. Willing at least to agree that as long as I have a bob, you have a buzzcut?”

“Well, that’s a deal I can stand by, Tuli.”

From that moment on, I don’t think I ever had hair again. I went completely bald around age 30, and married Talia at age 29. Today we are married with two kids. After I went bald, Talia grew her hair out a bit, after changing all kinds of hairstyles over the years. Exactly today, in honor of my birthday, she got a pixie cut. But that’s a story for another day.