I’m going to tell you all a story. Because I think I’m fucking hilarious. And this story makes me laugh.
Ok. Long ago, I was watching Oprah with my mother and her assistant co-host, I don’t know what this lady’s job was, was interviewing this god of a man named Nacho Figueras. This is him:
He’s from Argentina. He plays polo. Which means he wears tight elasticated pants on a regular basis. Yes. Me gusta.
Anyway, at that moment, when I saw him for the first time on TV, I decided that I’m going to marry an Argentinian polo player because they all have gorgeous flowing locks. And my children will be bilingual and hispanic (good for colleges. I’m always the pragmatic one.)
Honestly. Look at how attractive these men are.
Fast forward about five years.
I’m sitting in the library during my free period with my friends and I decided to show Nacho to Andrea. And I explained my whole life plan.
I had meanwhile decided that I was going to do a semester abroad in Argentina for the soleok maybe not sole. but it was a strong plus purpose of finding a polo player to marry.
Andrea was all for it. She thought it was a great idea. My friend Sarah on the other hand, looked at me like I was the most ridiculous person in the world. She just gave me this look and rolled her eyes and said, “Sarah, you’re oot of your mind,” because she’s Canadian and that’s what Canadians say. But I jest. She didn’t actually say that. Quite that. But I know she was thinking it.
I don’t understand why she doesn’t like it. I think it’s a very reasonable idea. Equestrians are the most appealing of people. Seriously. We all wear tight stretchy pants, tall leather boots, and well fitting suit jackets. To play a sport. That can kill us. So we combine dashing good looks, debonair senses of style, and danger into one irresistible athletic package.
And that is why everyone should marry an equestrian.
The End.
