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This is a true story, although I wish I could say it turned out differently.

When I was about 22 years old I was visiting one of my best friends at his parents' house.  His sister Mary (who was a year younger than he and I) was also there.  I had been buddies with him since we were both five years old and had always viewed her as sort of an annoying little sister of my own.  She was very attractive, with a lithe body and very long blond hair with bangs, but I had never really thought of her as anything other than my buddy's sister.

This one particular afternoon I was sitting in the basement with my friend watching TV.  His sister was upstairs and his parents were both at work.  His father called and asked my buddy to bring him some files he had forgotten at the house (he owned a business only a couple of miles away.)  My buddy grabbed the files, said he'd be right back, and took off.  I stayed there and watched TV.

As soon as he drove out of the driveway Mary came downstairs dressed in tight blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt.  For some reason my brain decided to pick that exact moment to notice how unbelievably smoking hot she was, with her athletic body, pretty face with a few freckles splashed across her little nose, and her long blonde hair with the blunt bangs.  I had known her nearly all my life and suddenly I found myself unable to talk to her as she came down the stairs and walked across the room toward me.

She told me she had an odd request and she hoped I wouldn't think she was too weird.  I just sat there trying to look cool and uninterested even though my tongue was probably hanging out.  She told me she was going to the salon in a few minutes to get her hair cut very short, almost as short as her mom's hair (which throughout the 80's and 90's was a very short, spiked pixie haircut.)  She also said that she heard that when salons cut off a long ponytail they sell it to make extra money, and she didn't want them doing that with her hair.  So, what she wanted me to do, if I didn't think it was too weird, was come upstairs with her to her room and cut off her ponytail for her so she could keep it.

Since that day I've kicked myself about a million times for not seizing the opportunity.  Not only was she definitely flirting with me (it is as clear as day when I look back on it now) but she was doing so in a way that would have fulfilled a long-held fantasy for me.  I have often wondered what would have happened if I had simply said, "Sure!  I'd love to!  And then why don't I drive you to your appointment and later we could get something to eat?"

But, of course, I didn't say that.  My first reaction was something close to panic, since I assumed that she knew I had a hair fetish and that's why she was offering her ponytail to me.  At that time in my life I don't even think I had identified my interest as a "hair fetish" and I had never spoken to another soul about it.  I thought she had somehow found out about it and I began to panic, wondering who else knew about it and how I could possibly explain it.  Instead of thinking about how great it was that this smoking hot girl was coming on to me, and how terrific it would be to snip off her ponytail and then maybe drive her to the salon and watch her get a super short pixie, I began to think furiously about how I could back out of the situation before anyone could tell I was interested.  All I could imagine was her telling people afterward that I had cut her hair, and I couldn't conceive of a situation where I wouldn't be hideously embarrassed if someone asked me about it.  I also wondered if maybe she wasn't simply offering to let me cut her hair as a way to break the ice, and that if she found out that cutting her hair and then watching her get a pixie turned me tremendously she would think I was some sort of freak.

So, fool that I am, I mumbled something about how I would probably screw it up and that I didn't think I should try it.  Mary tried to reassure me, telling me I'd just be closing the scissors and that no matter how I cut it she was just going to get the rest cut shortly after, but I was far too embarrassed to do anything.  She asked if I was sure and I tried to act very nonchalant when I told her I was.  She seemed a bit disappointed but was still very friendly when she told me she'd just have to do it herself.  She smiled at me and went back upstairs.

Twenty or thirty minutes later my buddy returned, and about two minutes after that Mary came down the stairs wearing a baseball hat.  A two-inch ponytail was sticking out the back of the hat - she must have just cut the rest (about 18 or so inches of thick, soft, yellow-blonde hair) of the ponytail off herself.  She waved goodbye and seemed to be acting very cheerful, the way a person would if they just asked someone out and were turned down, and they wanted to let that person know it was okay and they weren't depressed by it.

As a final note, she did get a very short, spiked pixie cut that day that looked very sexy on her.  I would have absolutely loved to have sat there in the salon and watched her getting that haircut - even better would have been if I could have filmed it or least taken pictures, but such things were far beyond what I considered within the realm of the possible at the time.

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