A love letter (of sorts).

Dear Madrid,

Thank you for letting me treat you like a playground. You are a little bigger than I expected, but I would love to, uh, date you. It wouldn’t have to be too serious (or would it?). You could sing me to sleep with your whistling nightlife, we could rise in the morning to your beautiful weather, and if you started talking to other people I could break up with you, only to forgive you two weeks later (our relationship would be stronger because of it). I mean, you’re not really my type, but after only two dates I can feel myself falling for you in a manner that can only be displayed in a Jennifer Aniston movie.

When my friends told me we were going to see you, I can’t lie, I was nervous. I had heard a lot about you, but I had never actually seen you. There were pictures of you online and you looked beautiful, but you can never trust the Internet. For all I know, you could have been a 40 year-old man with hairy arms and a red moustache. It could have turned into one of those “Catch a Predator” shows where we meet and you walk in naked, holding a bowl of fruit. I mean, who has time for that? Certainly, not me. However, my friends reassured me with things like, “Madrid is so nice!” and “you have to go! You will regret it if you don’t.” If it wasn’t for them I would have never of met you.

Before I left to meet you, I found myself drawing up box-plots, venn diagrams, and flow charts to find a system that would equalize my pre-date tensions. It turns out the anecdote was far more simple than I had originally thought. It could be found in the depths of my dresser drawer. You give me pre-date tension and I will give you a nice pair of corduroy slacks. Let me explain.

Most often, you don’t know what will occur on the first date. Usually you throw on some nice attire and just hope for the best. However, many times you can find yourself wearing the wrong thing. Your suit doesn’t bode well at chuck-e-cheese, or Barack and Michelle are disgusted by your choice of sweatpants for their dinner party. I found out that a lot of my pre-date tension was based off the stress of trying to find something to wear when you don't know where you are going. I needed something versatile, I needed corduroys.

Corduroys are the swiss army knife of the pants community. They can be used in any situation that you encounter in a given day. You can wear corduroys to the club because they are perfect for dancing. They don’t restrict any movement in the lower body, and they make their presence known immediately when you walk in the door. They demand respect like the Alpha Lion in a pride, and it is a wonderful feeling to know that you aren’t going to put a tear in your pants if you finally work up the courage to try that dance move that you’ve been practicing for months in front of the mirror at home (did that just get too personal?).

Corduroys can also be utilized at weddings for their “dressy” appearance. There is a story floating around that the man who invented the corduroys, Christopher Walworth Corduroy II, actually invented them exclusively for weddings. He needed a pair of slacks that could pass as “dressy” but still permit him to shake a leg on the dance floor without feeling like a robot. Some fine fabric and four stitches later birthed the first pair of corduroy pants.

The only problem with corduroy pants is that they often get into fistfights with sweatpants over who is more comfortable. It just so happens that, like sweatpants, corduroys go great with popcorn on movie nights. Their comfortability (not a word) allows you to curl up into positions you thought only existed to squirrels and chipmunks.

My friends told me you were spontaneous so I wanted to be prepared, and I knew that whatever situation presented itself; I could combat it with my freshly pressed corduroy slacks. This dropped the pre-date tensions quickly, and I felt a new confidence level as I looked dashing while still maintaining my comfortability (still not a word).

My first thoughts of you were that you were far too big and too loud to be my girlfriend, but I didn’t want to rush my judgment so I gave you a second chance. That is when I started to see all the positive things about you. Your streets were clean, and you were entertaining millions of people effortlessly! I had fun eating with you at the “Museo de Jamón” and taking in the sites at La Plaza de Sol. It was hard to believe how friendly you were, you knew everyone. We danced with the Mariachi band in La Plaza de Sol, we took a photo with Mickey Mouse, and we took a tour of El Palacio Real (Royal Palace). However, I have to say that my favorite part about our date was El Prado. The paintings in the exhibit were exquisite, and I couldn’t believe how close they let us come. If we would have stuck our tongues out we could have licked the fine art of Doménikos Theotokópoulos, Diego Velázquez, or Francisco de Goya.

I’m sorry I talked too much, but I just wanted to tell you I had a really good time and I would love to come visit you again (call me back!). Here are some of the pictures of us on our date that I scrap booked..


You in front of the Royal Palace.


When you met my friends!


More friends!


You being silly.


You being cute.


You tying your shoe (still cute).


I told you not to wear that dress! OMG!

(a whole lot of)LOVE,
Coop

P.S. Is it too soon for you to meet my parents?