I turn and face him, not surprised to find a blond-haired guy looking at me. The worst ones are always blond. I am surprised by the polo he’s wearing. It’s striped, the collar is popped, and I thought we left that horrendous style behind in the early 2000s. There’s a silver chain attached to his belt loop, for god’s sake, and I’m half expecting to hear the dialup tone from AOL replace the EDM song playing from the club’s speakers. What’s next? Is someone going to ask for my screen name rather than my phone number?
