Warning: Touch My Hair and I’m Yours

Some girls want roses. Some want grand gestures. Me? Let your fingers get lost in my hair and...boom. I’m yours.

I swear there’s some kind of sorcery in those gentle strokes. Stressed? Hair play. Tired? Hair play. Having an existential crisis ? Yep—hair play. Suddenly, I’m calmer, softer, and one step away from purring like a cat.

It’s also the laziest form of affection I could ever ask for. I just get to melt into your lap like a happy house pet while you do all the work. And if it turns into an impromptu scalp rub? Congratulations—you’ve unlocked god-tier status.

There’s always that moment when hair play escalates into a full-blown bliss. Is it heaven? Is it witchcraft? I don’t care. I don’t know what kind of black magic this is. All I know is, I’m basically a golden retriever in human form. I don’t care if I look like I stuck my head out of a moving car afterward. My “royal subject braiding the queen’s hair” fantasy outweighs vanity every time.

Fair warning though—it’s addictive. Once you start, I’ll keep leaning in like, “Yes, more, please.” Don’t act surprised when I flop my head into your lap like I own the place. Because when it comes to getting attention, “hair attention” is the best—and I’m not shy about it.