PREVIOUSLY: Part 1
The forum was experiencing a lot of problems, crashing every hour. I desperately tried to find a server guy to fix it, but this was no easy feat on a Saturday. By the time it was 9pm, I realized I had to step away from the computer and get some air. A long walk made me feel better, but I wasn’t in a mood to get laid like the night before.
I decided on staying with the local hipster option since being able to walk back to my apartment was a powerful move that I didn’t want to lose. My wingman was running late with other plans so I went to the bar alone. On the way over I asked myself, “So is this what I’m reduced to for getting laid in Ukraine? Going to the hipster bar to get a 6 or 7?” I couldn’t decide if it was, but based on my one-night stand desire, it was the best option.
To lift my state, I knew that alcohol would be required, so I ordered one shot of vanilla vodka and an additional one on the rocks to get me started. I wasn’t there for ten minutes when a tall brunette stood beside me to speak to the waitress.
It’s worth describing her appearance carefully because it will play a role in what happens later. She was a brunette with large hazel eyes, heart-shaped lips, and a pleasing face. Her hair was in a fancy pony tail with strands strategically falling across the sides of her forehead. Her legs were long and very thin. She had on knee-high black socks and five inch heels, leather shorts, and a floral blouse. Her nails were painted purple. At first glance, I saw no discernible flaws. She also wore almost no makeup, so I knew I was looking at something special, especially in a bar where you rarely see a girl above a 7. I was excited because I found a natural beauty, not the Hollywood beauty that is so common in Ukraine.
Regardless of my poor mood, I wouldn’t let a girl like this go without putting in an attempt. After she finished talking to the waitress, I tapped her on the shoulder and said that she seemed upset at something. She explained a story about a friend of hers who got into a bicycle accident. I noticed she was very expressive, speaking with her eyes and using hand gestures, unlike most Ukrainian girls. I brought up her tall height and she told me that she’s actually quite short and that her heels deceive. Her English was not fluent, but strong. She was 24 and unmarried. Her name, Anna. I’d toss in a few Russian statements in our conversation, but it was mostly to show off instead of to communicate.
While talking I began to notice men carefully looking at us. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. She invited me to her group in the back of the bar near the dance floor. Her friends were one guy and two girls. The music was loud and she eventually went to dance while I talked to the guy, who was the boyfriend of one of the girls.
Anna was extremely energetic, doing complicated dance moves in her heels while all I wanted to do was lean against the wall and drink my vodka. She tossed looks my way and motioned with her finger for me to come to the dance floor. I refused, motioning for her to come to me by the wall. I knew I would have to raise my energy if I was to have a chance, so I eventually did join her. My bones creaked from dancing for the first time in a month, but I was able to ease into a rhythm. I think she took ballroom dancing classes because she kept trying to spin me around. I was giggling because I couldn’t keep up with her.
“Do you smoke?” she asked.
“Not really. Sometimes when I drink.”
“Do you want to go smoke outside?”
“Yes.” This is my automatic response now.
On the way outside, two drunk guys in front talked some trash about us. She understood but didn’t translate for me. I didn’t know what to do. “Do you want me to fight them?” I asked, in an attempt to preserve my manhood. I suspected they were either talking about me or making derogatory comments about her body. She didn’t seem slighted so I didn’t dwell on it.
We found a spot by the steps, but we had no fire. It seemed that only one person in the bar had a lighter and was sharing it among the two dozen smokers. We finally returned to our spot to find a gnome of a man standing there. I asked him if he would move but he pretended not to understand English, and then he tried to mack on Anna in Russian.
Anna is a warm, animated, and friendly person, so when someone talks to her, she responds, sort of like Polish women. She’s not the typical Ukrainian girl that ignores people or gives a mean face. I couldn’t exactly get into the conversation they were having, so I grabbed her gently and said, “Let’s go sit down over there.”
I chided her. “Look, you can’t encourage these drunk guys by talking back to them.”
“But I’m nice,” she replied.
“Yes, I know you’re nice, and I like that, but they are stupid. If you talk to them they think you like them and then won’t leave.”
“And I’m, how you say, naïve. I trust people.” Like most foreigners, she pronounced naïve with only one syllable, like “nave.”
Anna and I talked some more, getting to know each other, when another guy sidled close to us and tried to insert himself into the conversation. He did the same shit of speaking in Russian to her. I quickly got annoyed. I told him it’s rude to interrupt, and that maybe he needs to go find his friends. He tried to act innocent, that he just wanted to have a conversation, but I said we’re busy. He walked away.
I felt victorious this time around, but that didn’t stop other guys from mocking my English when they heard me talking to her. I was getting zero respect from them. This wasn’t usually the case in Ukraine, but it was apparently open season on us. I felt hate all around me.
I had been in Odessa for three months and I never saw a girl of Anna’s caliber with an English-speaking guy. I suspected maybe that could be why they were hating. It so rarely happened to me that I didn’t know how to react. Do I ignore it? That felt weak. Do I challenge every comment made? Maybe, but if I fight them, I have a huge downside of losing the girl, even if I win a fight. It seemed like a lose-lose scenario, not helped by being alone without a muscle crew. I mentally prepared for some type of altercation before the night was over.
I had to make the interaction more sexual, because there was no tension. I decided to take a risk and proposition her for sex, after only minor touching was done.
“How about we go to the beach, and make love?” I asked.
She seemed to consider it for a second before saying no. Of course I didn’t expect her to say yes (girls never do), but I wanted to see if she would withdraw from me after this point. She didn’t. I planted the sex seed and kept it there with various perverted statements and questions about sex and her ass.
A new issue developed. Her friend called and needed to cash a check, but she was out of town. Her ex-boyfriend was going to come by to drop off the check to Anna so that cash could be exchanged. I thought this was retarded but what am I doing to do?
After smoking we went back inside. I was about to get us a round of drinks, but she had to step out to make a call. “Are you going to wait for me?” she asked.
“Maybe,” I said.
“I’m coming back!”
I pulled out my “I need a little kiss” line and she gave me a sensual kiss on the cheek. I said I needed another, so she went to the other cheek. Then I grabbed her and held her close but didn’t go for the lips. She walked out to do her shady business. I leaned towards the bar to get her a drink, but then I stopped myself because I knew how it would play out: I’d buy her the drink and it’d sit on the bar, never claimed by its intended recipient.
I ordered a drink for myself. The best thing to do was to hit on another girl, because she may not come back, and if she did come back, it would be ideal for her to see me with someone else. Luckily, there were two cute girls next to me. I opened them and they received me well. We talked for a couple minutes and then I saw Anna coming back inside. When she saw me talking to the girls, she made a face of surprise. She came up to me and said, “That was fast.”
I replied, “They asked me where I was from. I’m a friendly person.”
She invited me to go back to her table. I ordered her a drink, gave it to her, and watched her eat french fries. Halfway through she had to go back outside. I said I needed another kiss. She kissed me quickly on my lips. I was satisfied. My head was inflating because this beautiful girl had taken such a fast liking to me.
Roger stopped by the bar and we chatted a bit. He made positive comments about Anna without my prompting so I knew that she was at a high standard of beauty. I caught myself looking to the door for her return. I decided to approach more girls instead of thinking about her. I did two approaches. They didn’t go so great but it took my mind off her and whether she was going to come back or not.
Thirty minutes passed. I started to accept that she would not return. I was disappointed though I tried not to dwell on it. I met another girl who seemed open, but it was hard to put the same energy into her because, like every other girl in the bar, she was inferior looking than Anna. The difference was large.
Standing with my friend, wondering what I was going to do, he nudged me and said, “She’s coming back.” Through the corner of my eye I saw her walk to the back of the bar to talk to her friends. When she came back around we made eye contact and she put her hand up as if to say “Hold on.” I ordered another drink, feeling properly buzzed. It was getting late now so it was Anna or nothing.
Finally, 15 minutes later, she returned to me.
“I thought you left for good,” I said.
“I told you I’m coming back!”
“Yes, you did.” I wrapped my arms around her and we got close for a longer kiss. My penis quickly became engorged with blood. After the previous night, I didn’t know if I could go the distance only to be refused again. In most other countries of the world, I would slightly expect action based on such progress, but this was Ukraine.
I introduced Roger to her girlfriend. They seemed to get along well. Her other friends left so it was just us four. We went back outside to smoke. On the way, a fat older guy looked at us, said “200 dollars,” and laughed. Now I’m thinking, “How the fuck do I respond to this?” These assholes are making comments then walking off. Do I chase after them and get in their face? Let it go? I looked at Anna, and she laughed it off, so I decided to use her response a guide. If she was upset, I’d have to act.
Back outside more guys were hating on us. “They’re talking about my ass,” she said. It was large for a Ukrainian girl. To spite them she kissed me passionately on the lips for a good while. Their hate was transmutated into pleasure for me.
Things calmed down outside and now I started to work the logistics. I told her that I lived very close and I want to take her to my apartment so we can “listen to American music.” She said she was on her period. I couldn’t believe it—the second night in a row of a bleeding girl. I instinctively replied, “You’re lying.” She insisted she was.
I ran through my whole “I don’t care” routine, but she was absolutely not down. It felt pointless to try. Even if she wasn’t on her period, it’s not like I would be home free. I already knew that Ukrainian girls are more uncomfortable with sex when they don’t have their period than American girls who are on it.
Our friends dipped back inside. I sensed a good opportunity to escape. “Let’s go for a walk,” I said.
“No, I can’t leave my friend.”
I grabbed her and started walking. “Only a little walk.” The problem is that her feet were hurting because of her monster heels, and she didn’t want to walk far. Half a block away there was a comfortable lounge with sofa seating and blankets. We sat on the couch and ordered a round of drinks, caressing each other under the blanket. I explored the entire length of her legs and she apologized for not having shaved them even though I only felt smoothness.
She was complimenting me nonstop at this point—about my appearance, my personality, everything. I was taken aback. She kept saying she liked me, and one time I slipped and said, “I like you too.” I examined her face closely, expecting to discover a serious flaw, but it was very pretty, and she was so affectionate and sweet that for a second I didn’t believe I was in Ukraine.
At one point she said, “I wear shoes like this, and I go to work, and I hold my head high, and guys never talk to me. I think they are scared of me.”
“I’m not scared of you.” It’s childish responses like this that would make her laugh.
I asked her when was the last time she had sex. “10 days.” That translates to about 6. “He is not my boyfriend, there is no feeling, only sex.” But this upset me because there was a guy tearing it up while I knew I wasn’t, and I regretted asking her. Suddenly I felt very jealous, wanting to put a stop to what they were doing, but of course I was powerless to do so and didn’t inquire into the relationship any further.
Learning my lesson from the previous night, I absolutely did not tell her that I was leaving in six days. She asked me how much longer I was staying and I said, “I don’t know, but sometimes I have to travel quickly.” Even that may have been to too honest.
Her friend called and came with Roger to join us on the opposite couch. The table between us was large enough that we had privacy to talk. The blanket also helped (I pulled her hand to my erect penis but she wouldn’t stroke it). I then tried to convince her to ditch her friend, shaming her for not being an independent woman, but it didn’t work; she steadfastly refused to leave her. The girls went to the bathroom and Roger suggested we do an afterparty. While he wasn’t crazy about his girl, he was willing to go the distance with me. The girls were open to the idea.
We sat for a while longer and I imagined what it would be like to date Anna. I accepted that I would probably take a break from the game. The last time I felt so quickly enamored with a girl was in Kaunas more than a year before. Sometimes things just emotionally click with a beautiful girl, and the only challenge is trying not to get mentally excited. And how could I get excited when I was leaving in a week? Her period would end a day or two before I was set to leave.
My friend and I went to the bathroom. When we came back, a drunk guy was sitting on the couch next to Anna’s friend.
Anna said, “He is very drunk and needs a taxi, so I’m calling him one.” I could only shake my head because I knew this weasel was just trying to get in with the girls. I asked him to get up so my friend could sit back down, but he was reluctant. He wanted to stick around and talk, trying to sit near Anna. By now I was tired of the night’s bullshit and wouldn’t allow it. I told him he could go wait in the bar and that he wasn’t welcome to talk to us. He walked away and when the taxi came he predictably said he didn’t want it anymore. Anna got pissed.
“What is his problem? I call a taxi for him because he needs help and now he says he doesn’t want!”
I saw the opportunity, and decided that the four of us can take the taxi for ourselves, straight to my apartment. The girls didn’t protest. In the cab ride I gave Anna shit for being so gullible and trusting. A part of me now wanted to protect her.
Inside my apartment, we settled in the living room. I put on some music. Anna’s friend turned it off after twenty seconds and put on her own junk. I despise when girls do this and was glad she wasn’t my girl. I made drinks and Anna insisted on helping. She picked up a sponge and started wiping the counter, a nice gesture.
After drinks were made, I isolated Anna into my room. She found my boxing gloves, which I hadn’t used in a while because of a rotator cuff injury. I thought it was cute when she put on a glove and pretended to box me. I guess anything a pretty girl does is cute and funny, because if she was fat I’m sure I would have reasoned that she was aggressive and manly.
We lay on the bed and kissed and groped each other, but of course she wouldn’t let me take anything off, saying that her friend was in the next room. I told her that that didn’t matter, but then she brought up her vagina and her womanly problem. I demanded she prove it. She unbuttoned her jeans and showed me the pad. I hated life at that moment.
CONTINUED: Part 3