It is no small feat to hit on someone in the street with so much class that it leaves them impressed and wanting to know you—but you did it, sir.

It was Christmas Eve, and I had run out to the QFC for last-minute ingredients, looking like a mess after putting in a couple hours of sweating it up in my kitchen, thinking I could get in and out pretty anonymously.

On my way out, you walked up alongside me warmly and sure-footed in a way that made me think you were someone I knew. Then you said something to the effect of, “I’m going to say this and not take it any further, but you are the cutest girl in Ballard.”

I stopped walking and tried to formulate a response, but then you said, “You have a small dog, right? I’ve seen you around.” The only thing I could manage to say before you were halfway up the block was, “Wow, this is really sweet of you, you just made my week.” 

And I meant it. Your delivery deserves recognition. Way to be self-aware and to give me an easy out had I needed it. 

I fumbled your effort by not asking for your name, but I’ll be keeping an eye out for another chance.

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