August
Now, as the youngest sibling, I always saw going off to university as a rite of passage with my brothers disappearing one after the other to another part of the country for weeks at a time. Now it was my turn to move out for the first time and I spent several weeks in a state of terrified excitement.
The night before I was due to leave I was taken to our home barbershop. Using a straight razor my dad shaved the back and sides of my head twice to ensure my skin was completely smooth. My brothers tried to persuade dad to shave my entire head but their wishes were thwarted when mum snipped my bowl cut to a perfect line one inch above my ears. So my favourite haircut would last as long as possible when I was away they said.
The next day my new journey began.
University is a strange mix of working really hard and socialising any moment you can in order to make friends as soon as possible when you arrive.
I shared a house with five other people who were all studying different courses to me. We all got along despite our strange mix of very different personalities. My hair often came up as a topic of conversation in those early weeks with positive feedback. By the end of the first semester one of my female flatmates begged me to go with her as she got her very first pixie cut after I had inspired her to experiment with short hair.
As for me I found myself in a dilemma. Nearly every single haircut in my life had been given free of charge by my parents. They knew exactly what I wanted and I trusted them completely with my hair. It’s naïve of me but it never occurred to me how much it would cost to keep my hair, especially my undercut, regularly maintained. Or how little time each week I’d have to go to a salon or barbershop.
Instead of weekly haircuts I’d be lucky to get a trim once a month. And then the barber or stylist would never shave my nape or cut my bowl cut as short as I’d asked for. What was the point of paying for these haircuts I wasn’t even happy with? I was so frustrated I was sorely tempted to buy some hair removal cream, cover my head in it and damn the consequences if it meant saving time and money.
Fortunately fate intervened to spare me this fate.
Walking through the student union I spotted a colourful advertisement for the cosmetology department who were looking for people willing to let their students practise either their budding make-up or hairdressing skills on them. £3 for hairstyling only, £5 for a haircut and £10 if you wanted a new colour. The poster was careful to remind its readers that these students were novices and the faculty was not responsible for any disastrous haircuts given to willing customers.
Why not? I thought. £5 was a lot cheaper than what I currently paid. On my next free afternoon I sought out the cosmetology department. The teacher took one look at my hair and delightedly ushered me over to a boy, Aiden, my own age. Aiden had short blonde curls and deep green eyes. I asked for my rapidly growing out bowl cut to be redone. Aiden excitedly confessed that I was the first short-haired girl he’d been able to practise on. He had so far failed to convince every single girl who’d sat before him to part with her long locks and let him try out some short styles.
I told him I was happy to be of help and settled into the chair for a good thirty seconds before I heard Aiden’s panicked whispers of ‘oh my god’. In his excitement he’d forgotten to attach a guard to the clippers and had carved a very noticeable pale strip up my nape. Nearly in tears with worry he was utterly confused when I started grinning. I described a couple of my previous encounters with clippers and assured him I wasn’t angry in the slightest at the error. In fact I was looking forward to having my undercut shorn properly.
Less nervous but going more carefully, Aiden systematically removed all the hair from the sides of my head. Next came the bowl cut itself. A cut he’d never tried. After two or three cautious snips I encouraged Aiden to cut it shorter and promised I’d like the outcome no matter what. The end result wasn’t perfect, whether due to nerves or inexperience, but ultimately not bad. The teacher came over to inspect his work and instructed Aiden on how to make corrections. I assured the teacher that I was very happy with Aiden’s work and yes I would come back for another haircut in a few weeks time.
True to my word, one month later I returned to the department with the intention of letting Aiden try a new short style on me. It wasn’t to be as the teacher instead sat me with a girl, Stephanie, who was also looking to practise shorter cuts on women. For no extra charge, the teacher asked if I would mind if another of her students could dye my bowl cut a colour of my choice. Wanting to be helpful I agreed although I couldn’t stop glancing over to Aiden throughout the session. I noticed that his eyes kept flicking to me too.
As I was leaving with my new deep turquoise bowl cut I accidently on purpose dropped my purse next to Aiden’s station, thus causing him to chase after me to return it. I made a big show of being grateful and offered to buy him a drink to say thank you. Aiden assured me this wouldn’t be necessary. Had I misjudged the looks he’d be sending my way or was my ruse to talk to him not obvious enough? Then Aiden casually mentioned that he was finishing in half an hour, if I happened to still be on campus perhaps he’d see me around. I left after we exchanged shy smiles and at the time I was convinced I’d been really smooth orchestrating the entire exchange although I’m sure we’d have both looked and sounded cringey to any of his classmates close enough to overhear.
Funnily enough we did happen to see each other on campus half an hour later and strangely we both decided we wanted hot drinks from the same café at the same time.
We were both naturally curious about each other so once we’d gotten past the traditional conversation starter about the type of weather we’d been having lately we both began opening up. I told Aiden about him family and my parents’ strict rules about hair length. He was shocked but I assured him I loved my short hair.
In return Aiden told me about his plans for the future and his desires to one day run his own unisex barbershop. There was steady work buzzing men’s hair or giving trims to women but Aiden hoped a unisex place would allow for the occasional excitingly dramatic transformation. I apologised that my already short hair prevented me from helping him with this particular fantasy but Aiden assured me that getting the rare opportunity to give someone a bowl cut had been a great learning experience.
Taking a big gulp of tea I took the plunge and offered my assistance should Aiden ever need a woman to practise short styles on. We laughed and then Aiden realised I was being serious. He was still learning, he reminded me quickly. He couldn’t promise that all my haircuts would be neat or 5-star worthy. I told him that I’d spent one summer completely bald so I wasn’t afraid of a pair of clippers or what path they might take on my head.
And that’s how the next few weeks proceeded. At first I’d visit Aiden at his flat or he at my shared house and once a week he’d practise shaving the back and sides of my head bald, then buzzed, then faded softly into slightly different lengths.
After a couple of months of this arrangement and more than a few trips out for drinks (both caffeinated and alcoholic) Aiden finally asked me if he could change my hair style. He explained that, instead of cutting my hair privately, it would be really helpful for his final grade if he could cut my hair under the watchful gaze of his teacher. As there was no guarantee willing models could be found at specific times of the year, students could instead arrange three practical assessments with the teacher at any point throughout the year. It essentially meant that, as the model, I would receive a free haircut and Aiden would get marks towards his degree at the same time.
A kiss confirmed my agreement.
One the day in question my insides were full of excited butterflies. As this was a formal assessment we’d arrived after hours and had the department’s fully stocked practise salon to ourselves. Pretending that I was a real client and not a model, Aiden washed my hair while his teacher made notes.
I didn’t see why Aiden had to formally announce that he was first going to re-cut my bowl cut before taking my hair shorter. All of us in the room knew why we were there and what was going to happen but the teacher nodded approvingly anyway.
Using clippers with a number three guard Aiden efficiently shaved the back and sides of head. In no time at all he was instructing me to keep my head perfectly still as he cut a precise line around the circumference of my head – exactly one centimetre above my ears. When he finished he dusted of my face and neck with a brush.
Aiden stepped back and allowed the teacher to inspect his work. I became very self conscious when she whipped out a clear plastic ruler and started measuring points around my head. When she had finished her assessment and scribbling notes on her clipboard she indicated that Aiden should continue.
This was it. I’d agreed to and high ‘n’ tight haircut with a bald fade. Naturally Aiden hadn’t been able to practise this style on me so for his sake I prayed it would go well.
I know both of us would have preferred it if Aiden had cut the remaining hair on top of my head one lock at a time to really savour the experience but that wouldn’t score him very high marks with his teacher. Instead he selected a number eight guard and, after I had nodded my consent, ploughed through my bowl cut until the remaining hair stood up on end.
What happened next was a blur of guard changes and wonderful vibrations all over my head. Aiden moved the clippers up to my crown, swapped the guard, and repeated the process only this time finishing a fraction short of the first mark he’d made. This continued for some time with each pass of the clippers taking my hair shorter and shorter. Each length effortlessly blending into the next. Finally I had more skin than hair on the back and sides of my head.
Next came the top of my head. From the commentary Aiden had to give to his teacher in order to earn marks I knew that the longest piece of hair on the sides of my head was now only a fraction of an inch long courtesy of the number two guard. Aiden declared that he was now using a number three guard just before the clippers were pushing into the hair I had remaining on top of my head. With the hair already short and didn’t take long for it to be shorn even further.
Aiden gave my shoulder a squeeze in reassurance as he finally put the clippers down. Then he used scissors and a comb to blend the top and sides of my head. This part seemed to take ages with Aiden making tiny snip after tiny snip. Then he was apparently unhappy with the odd hair on top of my head as Aiden held the scissors flat as he made minuscule adjusts to the cut. Finally he put his tools down, brushed me off again and stepped back.
The teacher swopped forward, ruler at the ready. This time she also produced a magnifying glass and peered critically at sections of my head. I vaguely wondered when I had last cleaned behind my ears.
Whatever she had seen had obviously made the teacher happy as she was nodding her head and congratulating Aiden on a job well done. Then she insisted on shaking my hand and praising me for being so brave. It was nothing, I assured her as I ran my hands over my head for the first time. God I had missed how those bristles felt under my fingers.
Assessment over, together the three of us tidied the salon and locked the doors to that section of the department. The teacher bade us good night and we headed off across campus.
After a brief debate we chose to race back to Aiden’s flat where we wouldn’t be disturbed (unlike my shared house). Neither of us said anything but we didn’t have to. We quickly found ourselves in Aiden’s bedroom and our clothes quickly found their way to the floor. At first only our hands explored my new haircut then Aiden’s mouth and tongue found its way to my bare nape and I knew a type of heaven I’d never known before. We didn’t sleep that night. Instead we spend the time discovering every inch of each other multiple times.
The next two weeks continued in happy bliss. If we didn’t see each other in person we always made sure to call or text. Sometimes we’d go out on a date and sometimes we’d stay in. Once I’d even sat naked whilst Aiden (equally naked) carefully sculpted my high ‘n’ tight haircut before we’d both showered together then made our way to Aiden’s bed. I made a mental note to try the entire experience again as often as we could.
Then one afternoon when I was in my own room trying to revise when I received a strange phone call from Aiden. He was at my front door, was he ok come in oh and by the way he’d done something so did I promise not to freak out? Naturally I promised whilst wondering what the hell was going on. Thirty seconds later I was opening the front door and after a moments confusion stared at Aiden with my mouth wide open in shock.
His hair, those beautiful golden curls, were gone! Just gone. His bare scalp shone under the afternoon sun. He hoped I liked it, he said sheepishly. I dragged him back to my room to hear the explanation. I fearfully asked if he had shaved his head to please me. I knew I mentioned my own head shave often enough but I didn’t think I had ever suggested that Aiden get one. I loved him exactly as he was and didn’t want him to change anything about himself to make me happy.
Aiden smirked at that and I realised I had used the ‘L’ word for the first time.
He explained that he had allowed Stephanie to give him first a crew cut, then a head shave as part of her assessment. Aiden confessed that he had been curious to know what it would feel like to be bald. And while his thoughts had been firmly on me for the majority of the experience, Aiden had wondered if we might enjoy the results on his new style together…especially now I loved him.
I made sure to give a friendly punch on the arm before my hands explored his head and felt the softness of his pale scalp. I might be tempted to change my hair to match I confessed as I pulled Aiden onto the bed. Aiden assured me he’d be more than willing to help me with this wish – anything for the girl he loved.
That afternoon I didn’t care that not all of my flatmates were out of the house. I didn’t care who might hear us or that they’d know exactly what we were doing. Even though it was still early in our relationship something told me that we’d have years of adventures and hair-related experiments together. I never thought I find a partner who loved me and my short hair as much as I did. But I’ve never been so happy to be wrong.
