He ran his fingers through my hair. 'You have such soft hair,' he murmured. I blushed, coyly ...
OK, that's all true, except for the coyly blushing - that's just so not me. I was getting my hair cut, at a shop on the edge of the gay village, and my barber comments on the softness of my hair every single time. It's odd, being nearly bald, and getting a compliment on hair. But, I'll take it. This time, though, he added, 'You're lucky to have hair that feels like this.'
I began to say something and he interrupted saying, 'I know, I know, you wish you had more ...'
I laughed at the assumption and said, 'No, I wasn't going to say that. I'm OK with my hair just as it is. These days,' I said not knowing the impact that these next words would have, 'people are concerned about the wrong things.'
That stopped him.
'(long pause) Oh. Wow. I'm so on board with that.'
Over the next little while, as he cut my hair and chatted about things that barbers chat about, he kept stopping and saying under his breath, 'Oh. Wow.'
When the hair cut was done, I take a surprisingly short time to look my finest, he patted me on the shoulder and said, 'I need to thank you for coming in today. I really needed to hear what you said.'
If it meant something to him, maybe it'll mean something to you ...