I’ve been lying to myself and others every time I have said that I never found a blond gentleman attractive. Apparently, I forgot about Joe. I met Joe in 6th grade at McNichol Middle school, in PE class, which is the worst place for someone like me to make a first impression. I stood there, in black shorts and a black and gold shirt in the gravy air of South Florida, listening to the coach talk about timing us while we ran around the track once. Joe stood across from me in the smelly circle of pre-teens forcibly gathered around a gruff, old-seeming man with the coach version of our uniforms. The sun hit Joe’s hair just the right way to show that it was dirty blond and not basic light brown, as I’d originally thought when I first eye-balled everyone in the circle.