A Little off the Top, Please

I'm getting up early on Memorial Day, not because I'm heading off on some holiday day-trip. On the contrary, I'm working all day. Instead, I'm getting up early to cut Cory's hair.

I've been Cory's "stylist" since long before we started dating. We used to hang out, and I'm not sure what started it, but he found out that I highlighted my own hair, and asked if I would do his. Rich used to joke around that Cory got a cheap thrill when I played with his hair. To this day, Cory swears his intentions were pure.

Once Cory and I started dating, he was in this "I'm not going to cut my hair, I'm going to be a rebel and grow my hair out" phase. To be quite honest, it looked awful. Eventually, I persuaded him to let me cut it, so we trotted off to Wal-Mart and bought a pair of clippers. I've been cutting his hair since then, and to toot my own horn, I've gotten pretty damn good at it. We even went to Sally Beauty Supply (one of my favorite stores) and bought this very styling cape for him to wear when I do it. Well, actually, his is blue.

The only problem is, Cory's a total pain in the ass when I cut his hair. He's as squirmy as an 8-year-old, and he gets all fidgety and starts yawning. It makes cutting his hair really difficult and time consuming. I keep telling him that he'll have to go to a barber and (gasp!) pay to get it done... but he never does. Eventually, his hair starts looking so horrible that I'm forced to cut it for him again. It's like he goes on a some kind of a bad hair strike.

That's what happened again. He's standing up in his cousin Gavin's wedding in two weeks, and he'll go looking like complete hell unless I do something about it. Seriously, what would he do without me?