How I Ended Up Quitting Hookup Sex in Russia

Извини ни за что

I was waiting for a woman I met on MEEFF at a metro station square. It was one of the stations on the Ring Line. Her profile had about nine photos. There’s a crude joke that says women are divided into those you’d “bow in gratitude to eat” and those you’d “just eat”—I figured she was somewhere in the middle. Besides, I liked that she had been quite assertive in her texts before we met.

She didn’t show up at the scheduled time. I smoked a cigarette while watching the people pass by. One good thing about Russia is that you can smoke almost anywhere on the street. Also, East Asian faces are common enough that you aren’t automatically categorized as a complete stranger. At the same time, young women are very favorable toward my ethnicity and country. And, of course, I could enjoy a certain sense of economic superiority. I decided to wait leisurely, mentally rehearsing my repertoire for the day.

The woman was about ten minutes late. Ah, now I understood. She had a hawk nose. Cheekily enough, she hadn't exposed her nose directly in any of those nine photos. I figured I should show a little grace. As I approached, I realized she was at least 5cm taller than me.

“Почему ты так опоздала?” (Why are you so late?)

She didn’t seem to expect that question. She looked quite flustered and rambled on about the metro being delayed or something. To show I wasn’t actually attacking her, I said in a playful tone, “Я никогда не видел, чтобы русские девушки приходили вовремя.” (I’ve never seen Russian women arrive on time.)

As expected, she started grumbling cutely, acting as a representative for all Russian women. I felt the ice-breaking was a success. By now, she surely realized I had met quite a few Russian women recently.

We went to a mid-range buffet called Moo-Moo. It was just before dusk. I remembered what a Russian woman once told me: her friend, who worked part-time, ate KFC for every meal, so even though she worked hard, she could never save any money. She probably meant it as a lesson that working hard is meaningless if you spend money recklessly. When I replied, “Isn’t the job itself the problem if it doesn’t even pay enough for a decent meal?” she burst out laughing in agreement. It wasn’t really funny. It was closer to a miserable reality though.

This woman seemed quite satisfied with Moo-Moo. I maintained the stance that “providing a meal for a lady is only natural” without actually saying it. This was one of the strategies I used in Russia: appealing to being clean, smart, non-violent, polite, and kind to women.

The woman asked me, “Ты приехал в Россию, чтобы найти жену?” (Did you come to Russia to find a wife?)

I told her honestly that since I was an exchange student, that was a responsibility I couldn’t take on. I added that I had a Russian girlfriend recently but we broke up.

“Почему?” (Why?)

Now I had to trust myself. Lying in a foreign language is twice as hard. Besides, this conversation sequence wasn’t going exactly as I had rehearsed.

“У меня мало денег, а она просила меня покупать всякие вещи.” (I don’t have much money, and she kept asking me to buy her things.)

“Какие вещи?” (What things?) she asked back.

I knew this answer was crucial. Depending on what I said, she would decide in her mind who was in the wrong.

“Ювелирные изделия.” (Jewelry.)

I was grateful I knew that word. She seemed convinced. Then she began what I call “safe talk”—how love isn’t about material things, and so on. Following my “repertoire,” I made her laugh, triggered her sympathy, and felt us getting closer—physically as well. It seemed almost certain she had never seen a foreigner do a Putin impression before. I monitored her reactions closely. It was getting late. I asked if she wanted to go to the hotel with me. She whined cutely that she couldn’t because her dad wouldn’t allow it. I took her hand, brushed it against my crotch, and said:

“Смотри. Он уже мокрый. Ты должна взять на себя ответственность.” (Look. It’s already wet. You have to take responsibility.)

She felt the stain on my cotton pants—precum from an erection that had since subsided. She burst out giggling and blamed me. “Подожди секунду. Я напишу папе.” (Wait a second. I’ll text my dad.)

When we stepped outside, the weather was quite chilly and dark. Seeing the lime-green sign of Azbuka Vkussa, she said to me, “Давай зайдем туда. Мне нужно кое-что купить.” (Let’s stop in there. I need to buy a few things.)

“Что?” (What?)

“Влажные салфетки и еще кое-что.” (Wet wipes and some other stuff.)

I knew Azbuka Vkussa was quite expensive, and it felt like a waste of money. “У моего отеля тоже есть магазин. Нам придется возвращаться назад, если пойдем туда.” (There’s a store next to my hotel too. We’d have to go out of our way to go there.)

She wasn’t too pleased but decided not to go against me. There was no one on the street, and the wind was blowing so hard it was difficult to hear each other. I wrapped my arm around her waist and toyed with her as much as I wanted. She occasionally laughed softly, telling me I was crazy. We entered the store. They didn’t have wet wipes. So we bought some stiff tissues. She looked quite dissatisfied.

“Should we buy something to eat?” I had no idea what Russian women ate in these situations. She picked out some strange mussels soaked in liquid. It was the kind of food I wouldn’t have dreamed of buying with my own money, but I paid without complaining.

She didn’t want to have sex with the lights on. I held her close, my chest pressed against hers, and thrust repeatedly. After some time, she asked:

“Можно я буду сверху?” (Can I be on top?)

I didn’t really like that idea. “Еще немного.” (A little longer.)

Her cowgirl style was typical of tall people—instead of a “spider cowgirl” with knees up, she kept her knees folded and her center of gravity toward the back. However, the aesthetic beauty of her pelvis and the parallel lines of her abdomen were dazzling. Unable to contain myself, I pinned her down so she couldn’t move and thrust hard from below. This woman was likely the one with the best body I would ever have sex with in my life.

“Почему грудь разная?” (Why are your breasts different sizes?)

“Да, мне делали операцию в детстве, думаю, с тех пор она изменилась.” (Yes, I had surgery as a child; I think it’s been different since then.)

After enjoying her body to my heart’s content, I lay on my side with my head propped up on my left hand, caressing her.

“Хочу курить.” (I want to go smoking.)

“Я пойду с тобой.” (I’ll go with you.)

She didn’t smoke, but she seemed to want to cool off. She acted even more affectionately toward me. I found her black leather jacket even less appealing than I did before the sex. I treated her with a moderate amount of attention, laughing occasionally as I smoked. Then she said:

“Если у нас будет ребенок, он будет умным и высоким.” (If we have a child, they will be smart and tall.)

I knew I would remember that phrase for a very long time. Nevertheless, I smiled and played along.

When we returned to the hotel, she wanted to eat the food we bought. She opened the lid of the container but didn’t eat much. Instead, she seemed to prefer watching me eat. I amused her by playfully slurping down those mussels in an instant.

It must have been past midnight. I started feeling uncomfortable. While touching her body with my right hand, the words just came out.

“Извини.” (I’m sorry.)

“За что?” (For what?)

I didn’t know what to say. There was no way to explain it convincingly. Not even in my mother tongue.

“Ни за что.” (Nothing.)

The next day, my girlfriend told me that her family was going down to the dacha for a week, so we should spend the whole time at her place. I had to make a decision. I showed the chat records I had with the other woman to Alan, who was in the bed opposite mine.

“Как мне сказать ей, чтобы мы больше не виделись?” (How do I tell her to stop seeing me?)

“Просто скажи, что у тебя нет денег.” (Just say you have no money.)

I felt like punching that annoying Uzbek face.

I thought about it for a long time. Then, in a long message, I wrote almost the entire truth to that woman. She replied with a simple “Ладно” (Okay) and never contacted me again. Just as my girlfriend suggested, I went to her apartment and spent a week there, and afterward, I was invited to the dacha where I spent about four months with her family.