Who Likes Their Women Just a Little on the Trashy Side?

This just in: the best pick-up spot in all of Seattle is Borren and Seneca--bar none. And I mean that literally. No bars. Just city sidewalks, in all their litter-covered cracked glory.

I trudged home, gleaming with a freshly applied layer of sweat and city grime, chewing my lip. over the night's tasks at hand, hair sticking to my wet face. Despite the visage I presented, I still managed to round up a date in the time it takes to figure out how to say "No" loud enough to cut through the noise of traffic...I knew I had hit dating gold. Fool's gold, perhaps. But it was shiny and pretty and makes me smile none-the-less.

It was 5:45 on a Tuesday and his name was Donnie (which isn't given as much credit as should get). He drove a truck ; middle-aged and perhaps not running on all four but why split hairs, he came into my life out of nowhere, introducing himself with two sharp honks. I turned my head as he stared me down from the inside of his cab, the words, "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle" flying by after a glimpse of his face. Freaky? Well I can protest and say I'm against it.

He waved. I stared open-mouthed, confused and a little horrified. And dammit, I'll admit it. Flattered.

I kept walking. He came to a screeching halt and jumped out of the truck, engine running and door hanging open as he bounded towards my frozen figure.

A myriad of questions streamed through my head. Did I drop something? Did I push my pedestrian right too much and cut him off two blocks down? Did I have a tin can tied to my bag that he couldn't wait to recycle and save from looming trash-can doom?

"A girl as beautiful as you should be in Hollywood," he tells me, wringing his hands with what I chose to think of as excitement.

"I. Oh. I. Errrr..." I thanked him.

"You married?" he countered.

"Your truck is running!" I blurted.

"You have beautiful eyes," he retorted.

"Cars are honking," I flirted.

"Yes. Yes, indeed. Well, have a lovely day, beautiful." He took my hand and kissed it, then ran to the truck and out of my life, muttering "What a shame, what a shame."

Yes. Yes, indeed. A man who spends his waking hours dealing with refuse surely knows a gem when he sees it gasping for breath up the sidewalk towards home. I may have canceled my recycle pick-ups and am now wading through piles of paper and soda cans in the dark because I'm afraid to turn my lights on...but that my friends, is the price I'm willing to pay for a compliment.