Hand to Heart: Shit Like This Really Happens. To Me, Anyway..

A long time ago, far, far away in the early Nineteen-nineties I went to a little Georgia country beauty shop one afternoon to get a hair cut. It was the Nineties. I was dead ass broke and didn't have much choice when it came to being choosey about who cut my hair.

I had an appointment, so when I arrived the beautician told me to have a seat and she'd be with me shortly. She was giving a permanent wave to a rather redneck looking kind of guy.  He might have been anywhere from twenty-five to forty. His fingernails was filthy and caked with what looked like years of dirt and grease. Underneath the pink drape cloth fastened around his rather generous neck, he was wearing a red t- shirt, dirty jeans, and a pair of worn brogan boots on his feet. I picked up a magazine and tried not to stare at him. He looked like a character straight out of a Flannery O'Connor story.

I was trying to figure out which Flannery O'Conner story he had stepped out of when he spoke, "Hey?"

      I looked up.
     "Yeah, hey, you got any friends who ain't married?

     I realized with horror that he was speaking to me..

      "No, not really", I stammered. "Everyone I know is married", I apologized. Why in the hell was I apologizing?

       He chewed his bottom lip in thought (uffish thought) for a moment, then stated, "I only got two criteria when it comes to women."

      I could tell that this was either going to be real good or real bad. Unfortunately it spun into the latter.

     "Yep, only two criteria", he reiterated, "A woman of mine can't chew the same brand of  'bacca I chew, and if she's got young'uns they all gotta be the same color."

     He smiled in a self satisfied smug sort of way, and I noticed that his two front teeth were rotted out.

     I cleared my throat, shook my head in understanding, and said, "I'll keep that in mind", and I went right back to reading the ten years out-of-date Ladies Home Journal in my lap.  That was the end of the verbal exchange. Thank God.

      It's been over twenty years since that day in the country beauty shop, but I still remember that conversation. I even remember that Bubba's perm turned out rather well.