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Featured in: Confession, Dating, Drama(queen), Marriage, Pretty

You fucking Russian Princess..!

By: RussianP | Feb 28, 2016 - 01:07 pm

Ok, so I think I will never date a Russian woman again after two very, very bad experiences. Here is the story of the worst. She was this stunning, gorgeous woman, I mean flawless in my eyes. I was head over heels madly deeply infatuated and could hardly believe I was going out with her. She was by far the hottest woman I had dated at that time, and she had me like vanilla pudding in her hands. One day, after we had gone out for two weeks, and I am laying on her lap on a bench with romantic views, she tells me while looking away, biting her lip: “Peter, I have something I need to tell you”. I am thinking to myself: “Oh holy crap, what story is coming now, what’s she going to let out of the bag?” She says “I haven’t told you this, and I couldn’t really tell you, but… I am actually married..” “WHAT – you are MARRIED?? WHAT!!!” She explains that she grew up in Moscow, and really wanted to move to America. And that the only way for her to get a visa to the US was to marry someone, and she further explains that there is nothing between her and the guy. I am dumbstruck for a few moments, thinking this is just nuts. What, I am going out with a married woman?? I am completely lost, not sure what to think. I had always been a very conservative guy, so this event is currently fighting against a whole litany of beliefs and values. I am lost. But then I steam off and think that this was probably the only way for her to get into the states. Had she not done this, I would have probably never met her. Hmm.. My anger fades. I lay in her lap, motionless and speechless for what seems like an eternity. Then a thought hits me: “I am having an affair with a married woman! How cool is that! Awesome story to tell my mates - Yaaaaaaha..!!” We chat, recover, things are fine, we kiss, hold hands, walk off, life is great. So a few days later, I take her out to a nice sushi restaurant. At the beginning of the dinner, she says out of nowhere: “Peter, I want you to write me a poem..” I remain cool and collected on the outside and look smug (or so I think), but inside this young man’s head, mind, soul and body there is trench warfare, death, destruction and Kill Bill! “-What the fuck is the matter with this crazy woman??? Poem?? Me?? What?? Me write a poem on demand?? No! No fukcing way!! So I say: “Of course I will write you a poem”. And so I did. Not exactly a poem, but something similar. Mind you, I was crazy about this woman and willingly complied. Thinking back now, I can’t believe I accepted. Oh dear. Anyways, she liked the poem (I think) and we dated for another two weeks or so, until she one day told me: “Peter, I want you to treat me like a princess. I want you to bring me flowers and by me gifts and stuff.” Déjà vu from the sushi dinner.. My mind and soul is again transformed from being in a peaceful and happy place to trench warfare in pouring rain with mud everywhere, absurd rage, I fucking hat you, very painful papercuts and boxingclass in the morning when I hit that punchbag as hard as I fucking can.. “What the fuck us up with this fucking NUTCASE of a Russian woman???? Who does she think she is??? My curtains from hell roll up and I say: “Of course I will treat you like a princess, you totally deserve it”. But I never did. And I never saw her again. No fucking Russian princess for me, thanks!

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