We all know the joys of hair fetishism, but what about its "sorrows" ? Do you ever wish you didn't have this special proclivity of which you may have been conscious from even before the onset of puberty and before you which you are powerless? Like a vampire in a crowd in some horror movie whose secret appetite is immediately aroused by the accidental appearance of a drop of blood, you endeavor to suppress your attention to the first drop of a long, curly, wavy mane from a tightly-wrapped bun, lest the other villagers take you for a mad or even criminal deviant , to be driven away at the point of a pitchfork (or a stake through the heart) . Oh to be like all the others, with their run-of-the-mill leg and breast fetishes, safely within the mainstream, and with the full arsenal of the media deployed to gratify them. Instead, we stand alone, members of an elite fraternity that knows the exquisite pleasure afforded by ponytails, bangs, curls and flips , but conscious all the while of the need for circumspection, lest our virtually unique status prompt unbelievers to brand us as outcasts....