Why being bald could be your best dating move yet

Since Mind the Heart is about relationships, let’s talk about what baldness really means in the dating world. Spoiler alert: it’s more fun than you’d imagine.

Despite a lot of people incepting––rather trying to––a fear in me that women hesitate dating bald men, I was confident. One of my exes—a fiery Delhi girl—once asked me mid-date, “Do you polish your head?” I deadpanned, “Only on special occasions, like when I reject bad pickup lines.” She laughed so hard she snorted. We didn’t last forever, but it taught me something crucial: my bald head isn’t a liability—it’s a conversation starter. Another ex, bless her, would literally run her fingers over my scalp while watching a movie and sigh, “I love how smooth it is.” Honestly, I’ve had moments where my head got more compliments than my shoes.

Trust me, your hairline doesn’t make you attractive. Confidence does. (Source: Freepik)

Family gatherings, meanwhile, are a comedy show in themselves. Aunties, bless them, love patting my head like I’m some sort of sage. “Poor boy, no hair,” they whisper. I usually tap my temple and say, “All moved inside, aunty.” A cousin’s friend overheard this at a wedding and—long story short—we had a brief summer fling. Confidence trumps follicles every time, people.

My uncle once patted my head and said, “Son, you should try caps.” I replied, “Don’t worry, uncle, my scalp is air-conditioned.” He paused. Then nodded. And I swear he’s still trying to figure out if I’m joking or if my head is a metaphorical spa.

While most women I approached adored the baldness, some, let’s say, had complicated feelings. One of them told me, “I need someone with hair.” But a week later, she texted, “Thinking about how smooth you are… ugh.” Baldness is fascinating that way—it’s impossible to ignore, impossible to forget, and often impossible to resist teasing.

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s this: baldness isn’t a curse. It’s an upgrade. Those of you still clinging to the last few stubborn strands, stressing over shampoos or hair oils—just shave it off. Own it. And start working on yourself.

The statistics are on my side. While it is true that male pattern baldness affects nearly 40 per cent of men by the age of 35 and 60 per cent by 50, good news is that research from the University of Pennsylvania suggests bald men are often seen as more dominant, more mature, and, surprisingly, more attractive. I can vouch for this. Many polls have found that women consider bald men sexy if they own it. Basically, your hairline isn’t the problem—your attitude is.

Trust me, your hairline doesn’t make you attractive. Confidence does. When I went fully bald, something changed. I stopped worrying about what people saw and started focusing on what I could actually bring to the table—humour, style, brain, personality. Suddenly, the bald head wasn’t a problem. It became my signature.

Real freedom comes when you stop letting hair—or anything external—define your worth. You start noticing the little things that matter: the way you carry yourself, the way you speak, the way you make someone laugh. You realise attraction isn’t a checklist of features; it’s energy, it’s presence, it’s the way someone feels around you.

Your baldness becomes part of the story, not the headline. The shine on your head? That’s just the garnish. The substance is everything else: how you love, how you laugh, how you handle heartbreak, how you show up for yourself. That’s what actually draws people in.

So, shave it off if you need to, embrace the dome, and then get to work on the rest. Build the life, the personality, the self you’d want to date. Because in the end, hair is temporary, but who you are—the real you—sticks. And funny enough, once you own that, the shine on top becomes the least of anyone’s worries.