I’m More Likely to Cheat on My Girlfriend Than I Am My Barber
When I was a kid, I used to go to this old barber shop run by an old man. I don’t think I ever learned his name. The shop looked like a small house, just enough room on the inside for three barber chairs, room to pass by them, and a small waiting area. I don’t even really remember how I settled on the place; I just remember going there in my early teens.
Prior to this, my parents would send me to the barber on the nearby Navy base. It was first come, first served, so I’d watch the military personnel get their buzz cuts while I waited for my turn. It was here I got acquainted with getting a precision fade and a neck shave with warmed shaving cream and an actual straight razor.
It took me years for me to find this same experience once I moved north. I ended up going to this place opened by a Puerto Rican dude who moved this way from Brooklyn. The place had pennants of New York teams and pictures of Biggie and Nas on the wall. This is my kind of place.
I got the same experience I grew up with, except now there was 90s & 2000s hip-hop playing overhead. But after years of going to cheap corporate haircut chains, I became loyal to this one barber. It became a matter of trust for me, as I knew he was going to give me exactly what I wanted every time. There was no more rolling the dice.
This barber actually had bad eyesight, so he wore these really thick glasses. To make matters worse, I was already going grey. He used to complain that my hair looked almost clear to him sometimes. But he almost never missed one when doing my fades. It was really rare to find any stray hairs.
There were a couple of times I had to sit in one of his other barbers’ chairs. It would be a case when I needed it done that day and my usual guy was out somewhere or off that day. But let him walk in and see me in the wrong chair and I’d receive a look of betrayal. If you’ve ever seen the movie Juice, the scene where Bishop looks at Q from across the elevator coldly before Bishop shoots at him. That look1. But there was a point to that look. Only he was going to hook me up the way he did.
When I moved to Omaha, the search began again. My ex-girlfriend cut my hair for a while. But as that relationship waned, so did the free haircuts. Ironically enough, I ended up at a chain barbershop due to cost more than anything, but location was also a factor. I went through a couple of barbers there before I found one I really appreciated. I get the details I need, they also offer to trim my eyebrows and beard, and I feel like they really care about their work. When you find quality, you stick with it.
In the end, it’s not just about the haircut. It’s about the ritual, the conversation, the quiet confidence you leave with. Finding a good barber is like finding a good friend — rare, dependable, and worth holding onto. That kind of bond? You don’t cheat on it.
