Читать книгу My Dear Bitch. V#1 Bride - Margie Fillin - Страница 3

– Would I like to marry a foreigner? That’s the snag. – At that very moment I was bursting with curiosity, but I had no time to think the matter over.

That internet offer could vanish from my sight just in a second, so I clicked “Yes”.

– I’m not losing anything by clicking “Yes!” Why it should be so worrisome? I’m looking for a job and who knows, maybe now it’s the right time for me to start looking for a boyfriend or even a hubby? What if it’s a sign from above? – I gave myself a sunny smile.

Few minutes later I was registered at the given site. Then, having learnt some technical rules and tested how easy it worked, I decided that it could be fun to use the international dating site, something like a short or long-lasting cat – and-mouse net game.

– Would you like to play adult games, Vika? – I asked myself. – “Why not?” – I heard my inner voice.

Having glanced over dozens of pictures with smiley, happy and satisfied faces of the foreigners – the eligible bachelors and potential candidatures in the future, it occurred to me: “And what if it’s fate, lucky chance, lucky break or big break? And what if it’s a real chance, should I take the opportunity?”

I deepened in such thought.

– Take it easy! – I stopped thinking for a moment and relaxed.

After taking breath I continued to glance through the men’s pictures again. But what I focused my attention at were my possible competitors – the ladies, the fiancées. It was really a double fun! Do not get it wrong, please. I’m straight and absolutely not interested in women, but I just had to satisfy my curiosity, and I opened the “Women’s Gallery”.

Wow! It looked like the gallery was endless. How many women would love to find the partner in life via internet? It was unbelievable. And all of them were striking beauties. It reminded me an auction, and, indeed, it was an online Russian beauty auction, no doubt. But as they say, “Beauty is but skin deep.” Great job, photographers! The females were knockout there, truly.

And I’ve got it: When you’re presented with a chance to “take the bull by the horns”, take advantage of it!

But of course, I was eager to know how the Russian-speaking ladies advertised themselves for marriage! I began to read their profiles.

Elena, Olga, Svetlana, Marina, Natalia, Irina, Stella, Bella, Kristina, Alina, Olesya, Zhanna, Maria, Tatiana, Fatima, Alla, Galina, Veronika and many other women from Russia and former Soviet republics: the Ukraine, Moldova, Belarus, Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan, Tajikistan, Armenia, Georgia, Kazakhstan, Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia.

From their questionnaires as well as per their own words, it seemed nearly all preferred sushi for breakfast, lunch and dinner; and if they drank something, it was exclusively champagne. Ho-ho! The absolute majority loved either jazz, or classical music (or both), and could listen to it since morning till night. They all strolled through the parks or along the beaches, thumbing through Brodsky’s poems. Fantastic! None forgot to mention Dostoevsky’s novels either, as, apparently, they liked to read it before going to sleep; as well as all wrote about doing yoga for hours for relaxation and being in good spirits. Of course, no bad habits.

Almost all the questionnaires were filled up the same way, and I couldn’t help but laughing: No one showed the true colors. These profiles could certainly amuse you for hours, especially if you knew what is what, but lost time is never found again, unless you are Marcel Proust. Yet even him it took a lifetime and seven books.

– Is it a “Virtual Russian Standard” or just pronounced tendency to fashionably live and be fashionably remembered? – I asked myself. – Of course, it’s the 21st century and the time demands to be up-date and, to large extent, follow the trend. But who said that one should follow somebody’s example blindfold?

I was too strict towards my possible competitors; still, women just copied each other, for sure. That’s why they reminded me pre-programmed robots, whose main goal was to find a foreigner between thirty-five and sixty-five to marry him. Such was online dating at the dawn of Web 2.0! Everything and everyone was for sale, just make a show of your best! Make a show of yourself! And you’ll be able to reach your goal. Well, and what then?

I was intrigued.

Couple of minutes after, being in a very playful mood, I filled my own questionnaire and uploaded few recent pictures. I did it the way I wished. I, definitely, didn’t want to be a new android looking alike to all the other Russian-speaking ladies there. In a week…