As many of you have heard, I have a new crush. I know, right? A shock, as I am not one who falls often. Don’t get too excited sisters; it’s still in across-the-room stages. It’s not like I’ll be getting on any airplanes anytime soon for him. But when I see him, I just melt like a firecracker Popsicle over a five-year-old’s face!
He’s not particularly tall, but tall enough that I could wear 4-inch spikes and still be able to tilt my head up into a passionate kiss. About my age, with dark hair done to look undone and eyes like black holes – the kind that make you wonder how such a small diameter can contain so much space and make you understand how the cheese-ball phrase “eyes you could swim in” actually came to be. Unfortunately, because my life isn’t actually a movie (though if you followed it throughout college you might sometimes wonder), I haven’t yet seen him shirtless, but from what I could see beneath his yellow tee he appears tanned and toned.
We locked eyes on a Wednesday morning while I was dressed bohemian-chic and headed to work. I smiled sweetly, strategically staring behind signature oversize sunglasses. We watched each other for a few delicious seconds before he drove away, leaving me cheerful and energetic without my usual morning Frappacino. He makes my Wednesday mornings worth rising for, and sometimes I even think about emerging from my down nest earlier than necessary just to see him.
Here’s the catch: He’s the garbage man.
The sexiest man in Farmington Hills is the garbage man.
“There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.” – my mother