Dubai stories, Vacation Shitposting

The One Time I Was Hit On

I’m bad at flirting.

Not bad in the conventional “saying-stupid-stuff-out-of-nervousness” or even the “too-oblivious-to-it” way. No. I’m shit in the sense where I genuinely appreciate flirting and would love to reciprocate (in some cases) but I hate doing it.

You see, being regular sort of bad where it’s the result of either being nervous, shy or unaware is common bad flirting which can work out in your favor because its just that, common. It’s a bit different when you’re stuck in my situation.

giphy

accurate depiction of me in most scenarios

Don’t get me wrong though, I flirt, even if it may not be obvious(or maybe too obvious), I do try (given sufficient motivation) and I’ve missed out when it was aimed at me on several occasions but it rarely ever does work out in my favor. This is one of those cases where it worked out….

Sort of.

This happened when I was back in Dubai after my third semester of college. My weight has dropped, which pleased the parents but so had my grades to counteract those effects.  I was also too hairy for upper middle class Indian parents to not mention it once in a while (or every fucking second of every fucking day) but was on a mission to grow out the hair(which has begun again, but with more acceptance due to the lack of a thick beard). Eventually I caved and decided to head out for a haircut, but I didn’t want to go to the usual spot, I needed a new experience, needed seek out a new place, but above all, needed somewhere easier to walk to.

So there I was, at a self declared “trendy” hair saloon not too far from home, seated in a comfy leather chair where I’m greeted by a very immaculately dressed filipino man whose name he told me was Steve (or stheeeeve as he put it). He was to cut my hair that day.

Everything was going as expected, the regular crappy haircut that would lead to me getting IDed at every bar or club I would visit was in the making and eventually, after having enough of the silence, he decided it was time for small talk.

Now, I’m not a major fan of small talk but you don’t deny things to a man with a blade and easy access to your throat, so I obliged. It started with the usual stuff i.e. weather, life, how long have you been in Dubai etc. and then came a very offbeat compliment, nice hair, he said. Thanked him, didn’t think much of it. But then slowly, came more and more random compliments at increasingly shorter and shorter intervals. I was flattered but it was slightly weird for someone to fit into the typical gay dude stereotype that I had in my head unironically. Right?

Eventually I was offered a free hair and face wash. The inner mallu in me could not waste this opportunity. It was fair to say that he was very thorough with washing my scalp, with a little massage and everything.

But was he actually gay or just a very friendly barber? Probably not but if he was, I was definitely being hit on, but it wasn’t a bad thing to be perfectly honest.

And as he came to the end and started rinsing my hair. The conversation got to a point where he was showing me pictures of him and his ex to show me how he looked when he came to Dubai, also telling me he was gay in the process.

It was around now, when both our suspicions were confirmed. He was gay and I was definitely not. I guess I kinda led him on though.

Thanks for the free service Stheeeve but sadly, no homo.

Even though you gave me a haircut that made me look like a lesbian.

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