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I am 28 years old and my hairline starting receding when I was 17.
Insecurity about my hair mandated I get it cut every three or four weeks at least.
One night, in a hurry, I walked into a small hair salon next to where I worked for a quick cut before my shift.
No one will threaten him, or send him inappropriate pictures.
I’ve tried it for many years, and I’ve been on just about every site. But for some reason, I keep getting stuck with the same results . No one will really stalk him, and even if they do, who cares?
It isn’t very often I get a window into not just one man’s, but my entire generation of men’s vulnerabilities.
Women have been thinking about — and talking about — aging and how we maintain our looks from the moment the first girl in our fourth-grade class filled out her Esprit T-shirt and the rest of us stared at our chests every morning, waiting for something to happen.
So today, I’m deleting all of my online dating profiles, and venturing out onto a brave new experiment called, “real life”.
There is nothing wrong with me medically, I just have early male-pattern baldness. I tend to think that I would be a good catch otherwise.
I'm smart, have a bachelor's degree, good job, make good money, no criminal record or any red flags in my past. I have good friends and get along well with my family.
It’s how I earned the nickname “Elvis.” I reveled in my thick, wavy brown locks. When I got home that afternoon I rushed to the bathroom.
At the time I wore it up and back in a full on pompadour.