No Alliteration Thursday: Dear Nastia Liukin

Some family stuff has come up, and I’m going to be unable to do any new writing for the next few days, so I’m dusting off an oldie.

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DiggThisDear Nastia,

I am writing to you today to offer you my sincerest of congratulations. For you see, as an eligible gentleman, I entered this year’s Olympic Games looking for very little but perhaps a little entertainment. And yet, having watched your performances in both the team and individual competitions, I am proud to say you are a winner. A winner of what? Why the greatest prize in the world.

A marriage proposal.

Now, I know there are likely many reservations you are feeling about this no-doubt inspiring and flattering offer. Fortunately, I have taken the time to address these concerns for you so that you can see that this proposal is indeed all that it is cracked-up to be, and not one of those too-good-to-be-true scenarios one often imagines themselves to be in when proposed to be a gentleman of my caliber.

So… You watch gymnastics? Are you sure it’s a woman you’re looking to marry?

Indeed a fair point. One could argue that, appealing as it is to the feminine masses, gymnastics falls just barely in front of All-Nude, All-Male Wrestling on the list of heterosexual things to watch. And yet, when time came for NBC to broadcast your event, where was I? Right smack dab in front of the TV.

So why would a hetero-sexual man in his early twenties feel inclined to watch?

Was it the gyrating in spandex? Maybe for some creepers out there — well, a lot of creepers out there — but alas, in my case, no.

Was it the excellent work done by the NBC telecasters to paint a compelling story of the fierce rivalry with the Chinese team? No, though that did allow me to cheer more openly and be more invested emotionally in gymnastics than I ever would have reckoned I’d find myself.

So what then? Well, I really wanted to see somebody beat those “16-year-olds” from China, because as a camp counselor, there’s nothing I love more than the sight of a crying 12-year-old. It’s why I love the Little League World Series.

Fair enough, because hey, fuck those little cheaters. But why should I want to marry you? I don’t even know you.

Also fair. It’s true we’ve never met in the most tangible sense of the word. But that doesn’t mean I can’t woo you with a handy explanation of all the many ways that I’m all-kinds-of-awesome.

For starters, I’ve got some of the flyest dance moves you’ll ever encounter. I’m talking things that are illegal in some of the more conservative states (and, inexplicably, California.) Have you ever seen somebody “Grate the Cheese” into a “Ride ‘Em Cowboy,” all topped off with a kind-of-jerky-but-bless-his-heart-he’s-trying rendition of “The Worm?”

I didn’t think so. It’s pretty fucking hot.

On top of that, have I mentioned yet that I’m unemployed? Yep, that’s right, which means I’ve got nothing but free time on my hands. Time that can devoted to being the best man that I can be for you. And to Madden. I’m really thinking the Roethlisberger-to-Gates duo can carry me to a title.

Okay, so you’re clearly a catch, but why me then? I mean, with credentials like that you could have any woman in the world as your bride-to-be.

No argument on that one. I am, as the children are saying it these days, one hip cat. Sure, it’s true, I could easily have addressed this letter to one Jessica Alba and found myself soon presented with the sight of the one-and-only Sue Storm at my door, bridal gown at the ready. But I didn’t.

No, I addressed this letter to you, despite a seemingly endless list of fantastic women in this world (did you know there are over 3 billion females in the world, and that’s in Beijing alone?)

Sure, I could have proposed to Jennie Finch, but something about a woman that good at a sport that involves a prop also classified as a dangerous weapon is pause for concern. I’m far to prone to making the wrong joke to last a year with her with all my teeth.

There was Kerri Walsh of course, who so thoroughly owns the beach volleyball world alongside partner Misty May that they have to cheating somehow. But then there’s all that kinesthesiology tape, and quite frankly it scares me. I’m not quite sure what the hell it is or does, but I’m pretty sure it makes her at least part-cyborg, and if Will Smith is to be believed, which I always assume he is, that isn’t good.

But while their shortcomings may offer some insight, the key lies with where you excel. You are a gold-medal-winning gymnast, and all my fellas out there know what that means, right? That special quality every guy is after?

That’s right, it means you’ve already proven that if you have something you care about and are driven for, you are willing to devote yourself 100% to attaining it. That’s pretty much the most important thing in the world to men. So, assuming you are now enthralled with me (and after the above query, how can you not be?) that same level of devotion can be applied to being awesome for me. Couple that with my joblessness’ free time to be awesome for you, and what do you end up with? Awesome squared. And that is a lot of awesome.

Okay, I think that about wraps it up. So where and when are we getting married?

Fantastic! Being the accommodating gentleman that I am, that is entirely up to you. So long as you choose from one of the following locational options:

– Riding on dolphins in a Caribbean bay. Midway through the ceremony, we are attacked by pirates, who we bravely defend our families from. Naturally, the pirates are actually highly skilled actors under our employ, but shh, don’t tell anybody. Afterwards, we retreat inland for beach-themed cocktails.

– In outer space in the world’s first space hotel. Admittedly, there is the small flaw of it not yet existing, but when you’re in love you don’t let small things get in the way of that, right? Our ring-bearer and flower girl will naturally will be an adorable pair of Martian children which we’ll have adopted ala-Brangellina primarily to fill this very role in our themed ceremony. Afterwards, we retreat to the spacebar for space-themed cocktails.

– Midfield at the Super Bowl as part of the half-time show. This is where your celebrity comes in handy — pull some strings. It shouldn’t be too tough of a sell, I mean, these are the same people that thought booking Britney Spears and N*Sync was a good call for a football game. They aren’t playing with a full deck of cards. Afterwards, we retreat to the sports bar for beach-themed cocktails.

Wow, those all sound so awesome. How can I pick just one?

I’d suggest throwing darts. After having some beach-themed cocktails. Once you figure that out though, we’re good to go. I heard them say on the TV that your gold means you’re set with this gymnastics-as-a-career thing, so that should hold us over financially before my modeling career takes off. Beyond that, I’m not really seeing any snags in this plan, so get back to me.

Sincerely,

Robert P. Ingram, Esq.*

* – it’s worth noting that I am not in-fact, in any way, shape or form, a lawyer. It does sound good though, doesn’t it?

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Ed. Note to Jenn, my lovely girlfriend: This whole thing was totally a joke then, and really one now that I have you.

Ed. Note to Nastia: No. No it is not.

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