He wore a black shirt and white shorts. I wore a white shirt with black capris. We met at the beach concession stand, just as the Super-Harvest Blood Moon fully eclipsed. It was dark, but our white garments divulged our identities. He was Mr. 97%, the man whose answers to hundreds of questions on the online dating site OkCupid matched 97 percent of mine.
If you grabbed a cotton dress shirt out of the dryer this morning and put it on without ironing it, you probably should be thanking a chemist named Ruth Benerito.
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