Dear Men of Earth,
I’mma do you a solid.
When you see a woman with a ponytail,
(and she is NOT on her way to cheerleading practice)
(nor is she of the mistaken belief that she has fucked with the space-time continuum, and it is actually 1984)
then you can assume, in 98.9% of all cases, that something has gone very, very wrong in that woman’s daily routine.
Her hair has let her down to the point where the only thing she can do is restrain it, and look forward to tomorrow.
Now that you have this knowledge, I know what you’re thinking.
“I’ll tell her hair looks good. That’ll make her feel better, ergo winning her over. I’m a freaking genius!”
No. No you’re not.
It will make us think you’re an assclown with ulterior motives, coupled with nearsightedness/a complete lack of taste.
Instead, go for the eyes. We will always buy that we have nice eyes. And we’ll believe we successfully distracted the world from the follicular disaster playing itself out on our scalps.