I have a question for the girls. For what reasons do you think you deserve the best?.. On what grounds? Do you think that you, this very best, correspond?..
No, I will not categorize you. You and without me have long been divided, but I am bored. I'll just describe one of my own life situations. And you try to recognize yourself in it. And after that, once again ask yourself the above question.
I still cannot understand how miraculously fate crossed me with … let's call her Xenia. So that no one would guess. And we will settle her in Feodosia. For even more secrecy.
Confusion occurs in relationships with women. Unpleasant moments. But in order to be able to turn a relationship into a fierce hopeless fuck from the very beginning, you need to have a certain talent. Ksenia possessed this talent to the fullest.
Actually, I knew her for a long time: for a long time she worked as an administrator in one of the nightclubs in Kiev. Beautiful, showy, self-confident - this is how she could be described. Several times I saw her in the club, but we only began to communicate when she gave birth to a daughter and broke up with her common-law husband.
We met several times in Kiev, had dinner somewhere, I babysat her one-year-old (and surprisingly sunny) daughter, then slept. It is worth talking about the latter in a little more detail. That evening, fragile Ksenia unpleasantly struck me by the fact that she literally boozed like a locksmith. Considering the fact that I myself drink alcohol extremely moderately, this pretty much broke my pattern: she was drinking in a hotel room that I rented for her arrival, she was drinking at dinner, she was drinking at the spa, upon returning to the room, she completely emptied the minibar. Then I chalked it up to excitement. And in vain?
In the month of August last year, I decided to take myself a little vacation. Ksenia, who lived in Feodosia with her mother and daughter, actively invited me to visit, interspersing the invitations with a mass of dirty hints. To be honest: Ksenia was not in the first place on my list. She was not on the second one either. And I would not be in Feodosia, if those who were on the first and second did not lose, for various reasons, the opportunity to spend this vacation with me. In the end, it turned out as it happened: I bought tickets to Feodosia and left, hoping to spend three pleasant days with a girl starving for male attention.
It all started, by the way, pretty well. Ksenia met me on the platform. She looked gorgeous: makeup, dress, heels - a dream, not a girl. The strangeness began immediately upon arrival at the apartment.
“Well, why are you starting like this? - Xenia answered in response to my attempt to hug her, - We must first take a walk, - then she made an ominous pause, - have a drink …"
I shuddered, remembering an empty minibar and a full bucket of bottles. The desire for closeness perceptibly shrank.
At breakfast in a cafe, Ksenia drank a bottle of wine alone. Neither the fact that it was ten in the morning, nor the fact that I took part in the drinking, did not bother her at all. She was endlessly chatting about something: about the club in which she worked, about how wonderful her mother is, with understanding that she went to meet with a man and plans to stay with him for several days, etc. Suddenly she began to talk about how difficult it is to find a normal man. I flinched for the second time that morning.
“Listen,” Ksenia suddenly said, “you have such a good washing machine there, let me wash your clothes? Yes, you do not mind? " While I (in complete prostration) nodded, she quickly added: "You just have to go to the store, buy some powder, you can, right?"
In the hardware store, Ksenia showed an enviable economy.“Can I still have some toothpaste? And the bleach is over … Oh, look what soap, I'll take it, right? " After I paid for all this fucking, I was allowed to carry the package, and Ksenia ran … you won't believe it, but she ran to the stall and bought a two-liter plastic bottle of urine, which in our country is called beer for some ridiculous misunderstanding. Which immediately began to drink. By that time, I was already tired of fucking. I quietly walked beside me and I was interested in one thing: to what level of fucking will all this reach?..
Yes of course. You are all very smart here. All of you want to ask me a logical question: why the fuck did you not fuck her with a bag of powder and dump her?.. Honestly, I was confused. She contrived to put me in a situation for which I was completely unprepared. All the time I was communicating with her, the thought did not leave me that all this was some kind of stupid prank. Because this is too much trash to actually happen.
What do you think happened when we got to Xenia's apartment (where we arrived for dirty linen)? That's right, children. Ksenia invited me to meet my mother. I gathered my will into a fist and said disappear sotona "no!"
“Are you sure you don’t want to get up? Mom will bake pancakes!"
“Listen, you fool! Don't you confuse me with anyone? I'm not your child's dad! I have not returned from the flight! I didn't get a dick to buy you powder and bleach! I've seen you three times in my life! In general, I came here to rest and to fuck, huli you load me with your mom ??? Fuck me your dirty laundry ????"
Here's how to say it. But I'm very intelligent. So I just shook my head and waited.
Ksenia took two liters of beer (of which only half was left in the bottle by that time). After twenty minutes (apparently, she was finishing) Ksenia appeared at the entrance with three healthy bags. “I've been collecting it for a long time! - I thought with melancholy, - I won't get rid of it quickly …"
With my fingers clenched together, I dialed the number of a local taxi. "Why, there are only eight stops on the minibus!" - the charming girl chirped sweetly. And I, step by step, passed from blind melancholy to a state of oppressive horror.
Do you think all this is fiction?.. By the prostate, the truth is!
After Ksenia loaded the washing machine (by that time I hadn't answered her at all for about forty minutes), she obviously suspected that something was wrong. “Maybe you want to go to the sea? she asked. I laughed hysterically.
After the beach, on which I remained silent, we went to a cafe. Lunch. More precisely, I went. Ksenia just walked alongside, continuing to tell me about mom, problems and what kind of guys are fagots and how they don't know how to love. True, there was some uncertainty in her voice, since by that moment I had not uttered a word for more than two hours.
“Tell me,” I finally asked when we sat down opposite each other, “Are you normal?” In this capacious question, I put all that hopeless ahui that surrounded me in her face since the morning.
And then she struck me again. She began to cry hysterically. "You try for you, you love, you don't sleep at night! No recoil … no men around, some kind of fucked up!.."
After I returned to Kiev (to heal wounds and put my nerves in order), I discovered that Ksenia removed me from her VKontakte friends and pupated my profile, making it impossible to view it. I breathed a sigh of relief, but that was not all.
"Forgive me! - such a message fell into my personal in a couple of weeks, - You appeared in my life in a difficult period … I urgently need to talk to you!"
Of course, I didn't answer.
She still writes sometimes. Each time I flinch and sleep badly the next night.
Every time I hear hysterical complaints about “there are no men around,” I naturally cringe. A girl who claims this will never get sympathy from me, because I am firmly convinced of one thing: if there is solid shit around you, then you yourself are the same shit. There are no exceptions: you deserve the environment that you have.
Xenia was a reference freak. Having a man next to her, full of strength and desires, she chose to defend her own flawed point of view: there are no men around.
OK then. They really don't exist for you.
And it won't.