Okay, so, like, Siri, just record this, um, because I’m walking the dog in the rain, and, you know, my hands are full, whatever. But I just had this thought, um, about, like, all the crap I went through with my hair, and I need to get it out. Especially for anyone, you know, anyone out there like me, like, a guy in his thirties, staring at the drain, wondering, “What the actual FUCK is happening to my head?” It’s a literal nightmare, you know?
I remember, um, it was like, 2020, early 2020, I think. I was 32. And, you know, you’re just kind of showering, minding your own business, and then you see it. Just a little bit more hair than usual. And then the hairline. The dreaded hairline. At first, you’re like, “Nah, it’s just the light, Alex. You’re fine.” But then it’s not the light, is it? It’s real. And it just starts eating at you, you know? Like a tiny, persistent little gremlin in your brain, just whispering, “Baldy. Baldy.”
I mean, I was a graphic designer back then, sitting in front of a screen all day, my life was, um, pretty chill, I guess. But this? This was like a slow-motion car crash that only *I* could see happening. By 34, I was wearing hats indoors, like a total tool. I’d walk into my local coffee shop, The Daily Grind over on Larchmont, you know, and just immediately pull my beanie down low. Because God forbid someone sees the, um, the thinning crown. The shame, dude. The absolute shame. And the anxiety? MAN. I’d just be, like, having a perfectly normal conversation, and then my brain would just cut to: *Do they see it? Are they looking at my scalp?* It’s exhausting, you know? Absolutely exhausting.
And the money I wasted. Oh, my god. The money. I hate that I spent like $847 on that garbage caffeine shampoo from some bougie salon in Santa Monica in late 2021. The one that smelled like a pine forest had thrown up on a bottle of cheap perfume. It did NOTHING. Absolutely nothing. Except maybe make my scalp tingle a bit, which I guess was supposed to be, like, a sign it was working? Whatever. I’m still bitter about that. Still. Bitter. And the biotin gummies? Oh, jesus. I ate so many of those things, they tasted like candy, so I figured, hey, maybe it’s like a vitamin, right? Nope. Just expensive sugar. Another, like, $300 down the drain over months, you know? Probably more. I don’t even want to do the math. I’m such an idiot for spending that much.
**Is it even possible to stop male pattern baldness when you’re already seeing scalp?**
That was the question, um, that haunted me. Like, seriously. I’d be up at 3 AM, my phone glowing in my face, down these dark internet rabbit holes, looking for anything. Everything. I even started researching hair transplants in Turkey by the time I was 35. TWELVE. THOUSAND. DOLLARS. That’s what some of those places were quoting. For a flight, a hotel, and someone to, like, rearrange the few hairs I had left on my head. I mean, my god, I’m a blogger, right? Gourmet Style Wellness is doing okay, affiliate income, whatever, but TWELVE THOUSAND DOLLARS? That’s like six months of my mortgage here in LA. My brain just couldn’t compute. And then I went to a pricey dermatologist, you know, over in Beverly Hills, because I figured, hey, fancy doctor, fancy solution, right? He just looked at me for like five minutes, barely touched my head, and said, “It’s genetics, Alex. Nothing you can do.” And then charged me $250 for the privilege. I’m still mad. Still. Mad. The nerve of some people.
Siri, um, pause for a second. Buddy, stop it—okay, back to it. My dog, Zeus, just tried to eat a discarded burrito wrapper. You know, just living his best life, whatever. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, the absolute despair. The feeling that, like, you’re just doomed.
It felt like I was, you know, just watching my youth, whatever was left of it anyway, just literally wash down the drain. Like, I’m in my late thirties, and I should be, you know, feeling confident, rocking it, not worrying about the wind blowing the wrong way. It was honestly such a huge source of anxiety for me, like, much bigger than it probably sounds. I remember one morning, I was making my protein smoothie, and I just saw a whole clump of hair in the blender. Not *in* the blender, thankfully, but like, you know, sitting right next to it. And I just, um, I just wanted to scream. I’m still jealous of people who can afford the good stylists, the laser caps, all that stuff. I regret buying that garbage caffeine shampoo. Absolute trash.
Anyway, um, early 2023, a friend, Mark, he’s, like, a software engineer, totally chill dude, mentioned Roman. And I was skeptical, you know? Beyond skeptical. Because I’d literally tried EVERYTHING. Every scam, every snake oil, every stupid vitamin. But he was like, “Dude, just take the free 2-minute quiz. It’s private. No insurance needed. Discreet packaging. What do you have to lose?” And, like, I didn’t have much to lose, except maybe another two minutes. So I did it. I was sitting on my couch, it was a Tuesday afternoon, like, the rain was coming down outside, which is rare for LA, you know, and I just tapped through the quiz. It was super easy, actually. Just, like, basic questions about my hair loss and health. You know, no big deal.
And, like, honestly, I have zero idea why this actually worked, um, because I still don’t understand the science, but it worked. After about six months on Roman’s topical finasteride + minoxidil spray, I started seeing real regrowth. Not, like, a full head of hair, you know, I wasn’t suddenly Samson, whatever, but it was enough for my barber, Marco, over at The Chop Shop, to notice. He was like, “Hey Alex, what’s going on up here? You got some new fuzz coming in, man.” And I just, um, I almost cried, you know? Like, I just felt this huge wave of relief. It wasn’t a miracle cure, but it was *something*. It was real.
**What’s the actual best hair loss prevention when you’re broke and desperate?**
So, like, for anyone reading this, you know, who’s, um, who’s in their thirties and feeling that absolute gut-punch of seeing their hair thin out, don’t do what I did. Don’t waste years and, like, literally over a grand on crap that doesn’t work. My biggest mistake? Thinking I could solve a medical problem with, um, with glorified shampoo and gummies. It was just such a dumb move, you know?
My whole thing, like, my whole approach to this, it was about just, um, cutting through the noise. There’s so much garbage out there, so many promises, so many expensive, useless products. You know? It’s like, you’re already feeling vulnerable, and then everyone just wants to sell you some miracle cure that just, um, drains your bank account and leaves you more defeated. I mean, I even wrote a whole post about my journey trying to quit smoking and how that impacted my hair, Smoking and Hair Loss: Quitting Saved My Hair Story, like, you know, just to show how many different things I was desperate to try.
And the thing is, you gotta find something that’s actually backed by, um, by actual doctors, you know? Not some influencer who’s just trying to sell you a product with their discount code. I remember seeing this one ad, like, for this bizarre scalp massager, and it had a guy with a perfectly full head of hair, like, claiming it was all from this vibrating thing. And I just thought, *Are you KIDDING me?* Like, are people really falling for this? But when you’re desperate, you know, you’ll try anything. I think that’s why I was so, um, so willing to try Roman, because it was a friend’s recommendation, and it felt less like a scam. It was just, like, a medical approach to a medical problem.
It’s been over two years now, December 2025, since I started with Roman. My hairline is stable, the crown has filled in, and, um, my confidence is back. Seriously. I don’t wear hats indoors anymore. I actually, like, styled my hair for a meeting last week, and I didn’t spend 20 minutes trying to hide the bald spots. It’s a huge mental shift, you know? A really, really huge one. I’m still figuring out how to balance my blogging and, um, like, remembering to take the dog out every day. Oh, shit, I forgot to pay the electric bill. Just remembered. I gotta do that later. But at least I’m not stressing about my hair anymore, you know? It’s, um, it’s one less thing.
Look, I’m not a doctor — seriously, you need to consult a licensed physician. This is just my story, my experience, whatever. But if you’re, like, a guy in your thirties, staring at that receding hairline, feeling that panic, thinking, “Is there anything real that works for male pattern baldness?” – um, you know, my advice is to stop messing around with the, like, the expensive shampoos and the gummies. Just, um, just check out Roman. Seriously. The free quiz is, like, literally two minutes. What do you have to lose? Just, um, just try it. It’s what I did. And, um, it actually made a difference. I’ve even talked about it in other posts, like when I was talking about my whole fitness journey, My Fitness Journey: From Couch Potato to… Less of a Potato. The confidence boost spills over, you know? It really does.
Oh, shit, my phone is at 3%. Gotta wrap this up. Zeus just opened the knife drawer—hang on!
Medical Disclaimer
This article is for informational and educational purposes only and is not intended as a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read in this article.
