Can I please stop getting super dreamy clients of indeterminate sexual preference?

Not that I think we should all have color coded squares on our foreheads to denote which bits we like best, but really.... this is some sort of sick joke the universe is playing.
So far that is four clients in the past 2 weeks who were handsome, smart, intelligent, funny.... Not that I stand behind the chair thinking "Can I date this one?" during all my men's haircuts.

No.

That would be creepy.

But I am a 30 year old single gay man with the desire to eventually settle down. So I shouldnt be surprised when god or the universe or whatever is just dangling some sort of proverbial carrot in front of me.
Not that I'm looking to jump into marriage or even a serious relationship right now, being newly divorced and all.... but hey a cute guy asking me out to dinner would be nice. And I'm not doing the whole online dating thing again, that's a Greek tragedy waiting to happen.

Nor am I going to find someone at a bar (we've all tried it and it doesn't work past the 1st, or second if you're lucky, orgasm).... especially not some tired trance and diva house blasting gay club filled with cut off T-s, sweaty queers sporting pencil thin eyebrows, and enough crystal meth to take down Lindsay Lohan.
So we move on to straight, or as I prefer to call them, mixed bars. Well, when I go out its with the folks from work, because honestly.... nobody knows how to party like a stylist. However, hairdressers are a very insular bunch. We go out in packs, stick to ourselves, and think that every other salon besides ours is inferior, and we can't help but judge the fashion and coiffage of every person we meet, if only quietly on the inside. So we often tend to stick within the confines of other hairdressers or people in the fashion world. You can always tell when the cool kids from a salon walk into a bar.... 5-10 people, all gay female or metro, with impeccably styled hair, often times asymmetric cuts with 300 varying lengths of hair and a whole palette of tastefully (or not so) placed colors springing out from all sides (they're FASHION haircuts and we think they're pretty so don't make fun of us), a flurry of designer or boutique clothing, and the mad dash for the martini glass. We know how to make an entrance.

I digress. I blame the beer.
Is my dating pool whittled down to a bunch of xenophobic hair hoppers and their friends? Can the dating pool expand to include the poor innocents who place themselves in our chairs everyday? Do I need some sort of relationship therapy?

If one of aforementioned clients would simply ask me out, this whole train of thought would be moot, but in the meantime......

I know I was hungover and perhaps slightly more glib, or less edited, than normal and I put on the whole razzle dazzle 'em show all day. Whether I was as amusing as I thought I was or whether my delerious narcissism got the best of me I am unsure. Needless to say, I won't break my "don't get hammered on worknights" rule for quite a while.

Anyways, he was cute in that sort of Elvis Costello turned Hollywood elite frat boy in deck shoes and board shorts kind of way. I'm boy crazy in general from time to time anyways, but yeah, this one was just fucking adorable.
And perhaps there is some sort of pretty woman coum cosmetologist thing going on. Is he gay? Is he straight? Will he hate his haircut and never come back? These things run through my head more often than I'd like to admit.

He told me to write a blog and it seemed like an idea worth entertaining, so here I am.

I see a lot of different people every day, and I get a lot of different views on what is going on in this world. A director, then a writer, a housewife, a CEO, a recovering alcoholic, a celebrity who keeps running to the restroom every 15 minutes to "blow her nose." Everyone is anonymous and secrets that fall on my ears are only repeated to a few select best friends with an ear for stoned or drunken ramblings. Details or no, it leaves one, at least this one, with a rather strange picture of the world.

He was right. I've always had my own unique (or odd) perspective, and this career only helps further confuse and sometimes evolve.
So despite my hatred of blogs and those who love them, here I am being narcissistic enough to think the things that fall out of my mouth matter.
All I can say is I did it for a boy. It's not my fault.

Goddamn I was cute.....