That price makes all three hairs stand on end

I HAVEN’T lost all my hair; just every other one.

If I were successful and/or married, I probably wouldn’t care, but as a success-deficient single guy, I know having hair is a definite plus. One of my best friends, a woman, refuses to date bald men. Superficial? Absolutely, but this is L.A. What do you expect?

Recently I heard a radio ad offering a free consultation for a new hair-growing treatment involving lasers. It claimed that after a year of laser therapy, I could have fuller hair for the rest of my life.

I may not put a lot of stock in my hair, but I love lasers, so I made an appointment.

The receptionist left me in a tiny room where a video explained the procedure and showed some impressive results. Afterward an attractive woman entered the room drinking coffee. She wasn’t a doctor, but looked great in a lab coat. I was smitten.

Lab Coat Lady and I had a pleasant chat, and almost none of it involved hair. We talked about each other’s interests and experiences. Like many first dates I’ve had in this town, I talked about my latest unsold screenplay, and she talked about hers.

Now I was smart enough to realize that Lab Coat Lady’s job was to be friendly and sell hair restoration, but I was too smitten for that to matter.

Occasionally, she’d talk about the treatment. She kept referring to its “cool laser.”

I asked, “By ‘cool laser,’ do you mean one that’s hip and trendy?”

“No, I mean one that has no thermal components,” Lab Coat Lady said. “But you can think of it as hip and trendy if you like.”

Eventually she took me to another room and sat me in a comfy chair. She stood behind me, gently rubbed a walnut-sized camera over the top of my head, and together we watched images of my dead and dying follicles magnified about a billion times on a large plasma screen. It may not have been the most romantic movie I’ve ever seen, but with Lab Coat Lady rubbing my head, it was like “Doctor Zhivago.”

I now wanted the hair treatment more than anything in the world. Just to give me a reason to come back and spend time with Lab Coat Lady.

Here was my problem. The year-long treatment would cost $3,900.

Lab Coat Lady noticed my hesitation and told me I could opt for their 48-month payment plan. I was leery. I feared if I missed a payment, a goon would hunt me down and shave my head.

In the end, I had to say no. Sure, I could pay for the treatment with a few adjustments to my lifestyle, but I realized growing new hair would just be a cosmetic enhancement. True attraction comes from within. I should be less concerned about my outer shell and more concerned with becoming a better person. Besides, I felt more women would prefer me if I had thinning hair and a car to fuller hair and a bus pass.

Lab Coat Lady seemed sorry to see me go, but I knew she and I were never meant to be. Given her line of work, I was certain she would find a nice guy with laser-regenerated hair and ample disposable income to keep her in lab coats for a very long time.

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Dog Davis can be reached at weekend@latimes.com.