You Always Remember The First Time

Feeling a little exhausted this week and also in trying to pamper myself more – I decide it was time to give Holly a visit. The last time I went there, my regular hair stylist was not in – so I decided to go home because I have tried the other stylist there several times and each time I left looking like a five year old kid. Dejected, I decided to leave and come back another day. But on the way back to the subway I just happened to stumble onto another salon. Feeling a wee bit adventurous and the fact that my hair was getting very bushy – I decided “Why not – it is only hair and it will grow back – so what the heck!” Well, I have to admit – this place was amazing. The head massage attendants were very young, attractive and “skilled”. The girl I had wasted no time in getting me comfortable and relaxed. She must have spent at least 20 minutes massaging, scratching, squeezing, rubbing and teasing my scalp and shoulders. We then headed to the wash sink to rinse out the shampoo and – to my utter surprise and satisfaction – she began to give me a mini-facial. She applied some cream and gently massaged my face for a good five minutes before putting a nice warm towel over my face. 30 minutes into this “experience” I thought my hair cut would then commence. But once again – to my surprise and satisfaction – she walked me back to my chair and proceeded to give me a shoulder and upper back massage for another 10 minutes. At this point I could have paid my bill and left a very happy man. But there was still the haircut. I had a decent cut from a male stylist there but for some reason – I don’t remember much about it.

So today I was torn when I decided to go get my haircut. Do I go back to Holly or Ms. X? I was leaning towards Ms. X, but when it was time to enter the salon, I just couldn’t do it. The pang of betrayal and dishonesty hit me and my conscience got the better part of my desires. Yes, Ms. X may be more attractive, younger, energetic and has more diverse skills - but I would never be able to go back to Holly in the future and look at her the same again if I skipped out on her twice. So as Holly was plying her trade on my scalp, it somehow just felt right. Sure it could have been more enjoyable elsewhere but for some reason, whether it be nostalgia or loyalty – you can never forget the memories of the very first time.