The First Blush of New Love

Dear Matagalpa,

Hello. I know we've just met, but I want you to know that I think I love you. Please don't be frightened; I'm not going to push you for commitment, at least not yet. I just want to explain why I think we're perfect for one another, in the hopes that one day you might agree, and we might live happily-ever-after for two months this spring.

There are a number of things I like about you, Matagalpa. Why just at first glance, I was entranced by the way you cuddled into the mountains, and the way little curls of woodsmoke artfully decorated your skyline. I was similarly charmed by your simple layout. Twenty blocks long, ten blocks wide, with two main thoroughfares running north and south. I do love symmetry, and the ease with which I learned to navigate your narrow cobbled streets made a little tingle run up my leg.

As I got to know you a little better, however, I realized that this passing crush had the makings of true love. For instance, I saw not one, but two garbage trucks in three days. That would be twice the number of garbage trucks I've seen in almost four months in Managua, and I felt my heart quiver. Also, everywhere I went, people wanted to meet me. "Why, hello!" they said, stretching out a hand in greeting. "I don't think you're from here. Welcome! How do you like Nicaragua? Oh, you're doing dissertation research on public health in the 1980s, you say? Why I have a million people you should meet. Here, let me give you their phone number and addresses. In fact, I'm not busy, I'll just come along and introduce you! Oh, that was fun, wasn't it. Where are you going now; do you have time for me to buy you a drink at this awesome coffee/restaurant/bar with great interior lighting and free wireless internet?" Though I tried to hold firm, Matagalpa, I believe that is when I truly started to envision a future for us together.

But was I sure? No, not really. I was hopeful, but not sure. Optimistic, but not sure. Bright-eyed and blushing, but not sure. Then I found the artisanal chocolate factory, and I was cooked. Matagalpa, you have a chocolate factory. Best of all, I quickly became close friends with the owner, ensuring a lifetime supply of delicious hand-made Nicaraguan chocolate bars and rum balls. Matagalpa, hear me out. It may have taken us 31 years to find each other, but I believe in my heart that we were destined to find one another. I love you, and I think you should love me back. I'm not sure what I will bring to this budding romance besides a delightful smile, some much-needed glamor, and my acres and acres of shiny bouncy beautiful hair, but shouldn't that be enough? Think about it, Matagalpa. I'll see you in a month and a half, at which point I think we ought to sit down and discuss our future.

Cordially,
Amazing Cheastypants.