Sometimes it happens in life that you don’t expect any serious changes, but they roll in like a wave, and you can no longer resist them.
I went on vacation at the seaside with my mother, my sister refused such a promising company. I just wanted to soak up the sun, swim in the warm sea and forget about all my problems.
One evening, when I was relaxing in a cafe in the company of my companions, one young man invited me to a dance, then another... He told me about the stars, about the sea, and maybe it was not so exciting, but romantic! And the next morning we kissed by the sea, and I really wanted time to stop. A week passed, it was time for us to part. No one wanted to admit that they were in love, just a kiss, and we went our separate ways in life.
That's all? No, I didn’t try to impose myself, I just called and asked to meet. Then there was a whole year of relationships on wheels. I covered 1000 km more often than once a month. Now I don't like trains. But I was so happy, I have never had so much love, tenderness, attention in my life.
A year later, he picked me up straight from defending my diploma and we went to the same place where we met. It was just a fairy tale. And a year later, we brought a tiny piece of ourselves from this beautiful place in the south. Piece is now 8 months old, he looks so much like the two of us, and he has dark skin, probably managed to get a tan at sea.
Discussion
Become the hero of a story on the federal channel!
The plot is about holiday romances.
1 - We need a Heroine, or better yet a hero, who had a holiday romance and it ended somehow badly, they broke up, or he still loves her, or he fell in love for the third time on vacation and there are always failures.
2 – A couple who met on vacation 15 years ago and began a holiday romance, arrived and continued dating! Maybe someone even moved to another city for their love. We have been together for many years and are happy, we have children))
I'm waiting for your stories)
Best regards, Olga
I understand that my story does not look real. But it happens, you just need to believe in miracles. After giving birth, I had terrible depression and only memories of a fairy-tale meeting, the sea and the miracle that united us helped me get through a difficult moment in my life.
Well, they also say that holiday romances are not serious!!! Happiness to you and your baby!
Your story just smelled like sea air! I am very happy for you and your loved one! And don’t believe in fairy tales after that!?
02/24/2005 16:20:45, OlgaIt’s nice that at least someone’s life is like a fairy tale :-) I’m glad for you!
Comment on the article "Resort Romance"
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Such a violent reaction to a story about the life of an almost stranger to me is frightening... I didn’t expect this from myself.
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I’m looking and can’t find stories, stories of adoptive parents and adopted children after 10-20-30 years. It’s a pity that I left so early, although for many a hundred lives is not enough to go through such a path...
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Help with a story about the area. to the world?!!!. Homework. Children's education. Help me write a story on the topic “What does a plant need to live?”
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How do I son in adult life let go. Experience in adoption/guardianship/foster care. Adoption. Yasya, thanks for the story. Letting go of yourself is always scary, but necessary. I'm the oldest at 17...
Korshunov M. “Petka and his, Petkina, life” (stories), “House in Cheryomushki.” 31. Kuhn N. A. “What the Greeks and Romans said about their gods and heroes” 32.
Otherwise, later you will feel sorry for yourself about missed opportunities and if life doesn’t work out this way. In his “Naughty Stories,” one of the short stories is dedicated to the fact that a wife is being tried for cheating on her husband.
All the stories found on the Internet, even if they are about difficulties, are still with good things. And so does my husband:). And a completely different life began - urgent collection of documents, punching...
They sacrifice themselves in extreme situations, when something threatens life, well-being, etc. And to myself, how is this possible... then I watched porn, read erotica. the stories seemed to help...
Is there a lot of ordinary joy in life? How often do we read here the stories of unfortunate tortured wives who are looking for consolation on the side...
holiday romance (social survey). Serious question. About yours, about your girl’s. Discussion of issues about a woman’s life in the family, at work, relationships with men.
“...Where there is openwork foam, where a rare urban crew is found. The queen played in the tower of Chopin’s castle, and, listening to Chopin, her page fell in love with her...” with a mocking howl, I quoted Igor Severyanin’s verse and threateningly reprimanded my friend: “Enough.” No holiday romances. I’m just going to relax, swim in the sea and eat poorly, but plentifully.
Semenov’s friend, incorrigibly amorous and therefore in a third marriage a la “together forever,” sadly summarized:
Alyon, it won’t hurt, will it? A tiny novel to keep your body and soul young!
In the original source, it was suggested that youth of soul and body should be tempered, and not have affairs with handsome men from Dagomys. No men, you understand: I am in mourning for my husband.
“So you didn’t bury me,” the literal Semyonova was frightened, “you’re divorced!”
“It doesn’t matter,” I snapped. - He almost died for me.
“Okay,” sighed the accommodating Semyonova, “eat fruit and swim in the sea.” Just don't wrap yourself up in long skirts, wear those short ones that I gave you.
I swore to Semyonova that vacationers have no chance on the Koktebel coast: whether they want it or not, they will have to appreciate my long legs and the white shorts I was given as a gift. Semyonova was filled with grace and took my voracious cat “to stay.”
And I was packing my suitcase and gloatingly talking about such a vulgar phenomenon as. What do we know about him? This mainly happens in the city of Sochi, where “barbecue with cognac is very tasty.” The heroines are women in white dresses standing on the shore, while their family is waiting for them at home.
Women are confused about the true path by men who have a certain number of sons in distant non-resort cities. Then a hairless, plump performer sings about their short, drunken happiness, and people order a hit on socially oriented radio stations. A tall singer with glasses and pathos works in the same direction.
A fresh clip based on Chekhov came to mind: a sufferer, “all in white,” wanders along the coast, clearly in search of adventure, catches his eye on an aunt with a Pomeranian under her arm and sadness in her eyes... Well, “and wrap it up...”, as they say . Then the singer grieves with his family, the woman convincingly portrays either repentance or heartburn... No, excuse me, this “happiness” does not shine for me. Down with men, only seasonal swimming behind buoys and excursions.
Act one. True to your word
...Actually, there are not many attractions in Koktebel: Maximilian Voloshin, Kara-Dag, a bay, a rock with a through hole, so to speak. And my white shorts, how could it be otherwise... On the third day of the holiday there was disappointment in the concept of “velvet season”: if the sun is so hot at the end of August, it is safe to come to the resort only in November. The owner of the home where I temporarily lived vigilantly monitored electricity consumption. Every time I turned on the air conditioner in the room and went out into the common kitchen, while the room was cooling down, he frowned all over and started educational conversations - like, “cool off to your health, but not so often.”
Neighbors in the resort hostel, a group with varying numbers of representatives of the stronger and fairer sex, persistently urged us to join them. I steadfastly rejected invitations to a feast, but “broke down” when “vacationing citizens” offered to take part in a motor rally along the Crimean coast. With three cars, the goal is to see all the best in a short time. By that time I was fed up, white shorts were becoming familiar to vacationers, and the confrontation with the owner about the air conditioner risked turning into hand-to-hand combat. Let's go!
Act two. As a navigator
Alena, you get into Andrey’s car,” the unceremonious, sociable young lady laughed, “he is a divorced man, you are a free woman - God himself ordered it!”
I smiled tightly and obeyed. Andrey is a tall, thin man who seems to be the most sensible of those present and not such an ardent fan of Crimean wines.
Turn on the air conditioner? – the “pilot” suggested friendly, and I shuddered: he was clearly aware of the conflicts regarding the cool atmosphere.
If possible,” I muttered and swore to maintain deathly silence.
Point one. Sevastopol, Balaklava,” Andrey announced.
And then, apparently because of the welcome coolness in the cabin, I lost my vigilance and allowed myself to be carried away by conversations. Wow, how many people know about Crimea! He talked about the sad glory of Foros, where the first Russian president and the instigator of perestroika holed up in his dacha. About the village of Simeiz, where to summer holiday slender ones flock handsome guys, but girls have nothing to do there. About the cave city of Chufut-Kale, which was founded by the Karaites, but then abandoned the fortress. About the frescoes of southern Mangup. About the Inkerman cave monastery. About the beautiful high cape Fiolent, which, thanks to frivolous vacationers, regularly delivers tragic reports: a steep 70-meter cape generously collects human tribute. Boys and girls do not take into account that the cape is crumbling, they do not take into account the dizziness from the view, especially if their heads are already turned and their consciousness is expanded...
When we were standing in the Balaklava grotto, looking at an old submarine and jellyfish hanging in the emerald sea, Andrei suddenly took my hand:
It's cold and gloomy here. Shall we go to a cafe? And then our people will join.
And I didn’t take my hand away, so, hand in hand, they stomped into the fisherman’s restaurant.
Let me place the order myself? – he smiled, and I almost cried. – I know the menu well, we won’t end up with a “god knows what” dish.
And we didn’t run into problems. I ate flounder and shrimp salad, thinking about how nice it is sometimes to let a man decide for himself. When we left, his hand rested on my waist. Or did it seem like a dream because of a sudden surge of melancholy?..
Act three. Closer to the sun...
And I said - I won’t go! And don’t pull me, it hurts! – I resisted and cursed, because no person in their right mind would agree to ride the cable car to the top of Ai-Petri.
Stupid, it’s not scary,” Andrei continued to ruin the woman, “imagine the view from a bird’s eye view!”
Terrible, terrible sight! – I strained myself. “I told you, if I’ve decided, then I won’t go for anything!” I’ve been afraid of heights since childhood, I even swung on “boats” only once!
... Half an hour later, I was swinging in the cable car, hiccupping and drinking small sips of mineral water. Andrei hugged us around the waist (it wasn’t our imagination! it wasn’t our imagination!) and reassured us by talking about how upon arrival we would go to the most delicious Tatar restaurant. I didn’t want to think about food... But about a possible fall, the treachery of men and even ex-husband I didn’t want to think. It happens like this: suddenly - rrraz! - and you are no longer afraid. It’s safe and calm to be with a stranger until recently. So, what are we having for dinner? I want a flatbread and wine, a lot of wine, I deserve it.
Act four. Just together
...What happened there, on the Crimean roads? Why did I leave as one person and return as a completely different person? Why I don't wear white shorts anymore, wrap around my waist romantic skirts with the smell and since early morning I’ve been sitting in the dorm kitchen, waiting for one single person from the rowdy neighboring group? Nothing can happen to me that is destined for ordinary women; holiday romances are not to my liking. And yet, like a stubborn volunteer guard, I am stuck in the kitchen early in the morning. Despite the fact that we parted with the object of emotional unrest only three hours ago...
This night, when we were sitting on the burnt-out Koktebel hill, he again held my hand. Asked:
Why is there such an obsession with the phrase “I decided”?
I sighed, took a sip of wine, took a bite of a juicy peach barrel and decided again - to tell it like it is, anyway, random ones will lead to nothing. So, only the truth.
Because for the last seven years everything has always been decided by me. She made a scientific career for her husband. When I needed a Ph.D., I took two part-time jobs—scientists and teachers were not the breadwinners. When I had to cover the clearing after defending his dissertation, I decided to take out a loan. Then he took up his doctorate, and I had to decide to wait with the child. Along the way, while my husband was writing his work, various decisions were made: not to buy a fur coat, a car, not to go to a resort, not to pay attention to calls from graduate students and students... As a result, he defended his doctorate, received the coveted professorship, department, and for the first time made an independent decision: to cross out that , which reminded him of his difficulties and his slipping. That is, cross me out. I decided to agree with him.
Andrey was silent for a long time. The peaches and wine remained untouched. I don’t know what he was thinking, but I cursed Semyonov’s white shorts, reproached myself for the trip around Crimea, for the fact that I turned out like everyone else: standing on the shore in a white dress, and “the kebab with cognac is very tasty.” Holiday romance, honest mother!
He stood up and extended his hand to me:
Let's not make any decisions now. Just trust me...
He left my room before dawn. I finally turned off the air conditioner, now I’m anticipating the owner’s sorrowful cries. For some reason I'm stuck in the kitchen. For what? Today I’m leaving for my city, and so is he, only two hundred kilometers away from me. As much as two hundred kilometers.
Final
It’s been two whole weeks since the voracious cat has forgiven me for my separation and is sleeping in the same bed. For two weeks, the invincible Semyonova looks hopeful: “But it was great!” It’s been fourteen days since I think about my ex-husband, a professor. Everything is bad, very bad. I listen to romantic songs and don’t get annoyed by stupid videos that “preach” swimming in the sea and easy amorous relationships. How to force yourself to make decisions to forget about everything?..
During an unbearably long working day, a message arrives on your mobile phone. Ten digits of the number, accompanied by the text: “I’ll call you in ten minutes. Please make the final decision. Pick up the phone and answer me."
No signature. I sat in a stupor, then, waking up, I looked at my watch: father, he will call in three minutes! And I rush to get my makeup bag to put on lipstick and comb my hair. As if the caller can see me...
While I'm here checking the quality of the slopes at the Abzakovo ski resort, you continue to delight me with your resort stories. Our talented artist psychological portraits Victor Baskakov touched upon one of the most pressing topics - holiday romances. It’s rare that a tourist doesn’t have at least a couple of stories about this. Holiday romances do not last long, but are remembered for a lifetime.
If you are single and planning a holiday away from... hometown, then you are at risk. After all, all these beautiful seas, beaches, mountains, rivers make us come out of our shell and open our hearts to new impressions...
And Cupid’s arrows so easily fly into this open heart... What comes of this? Read Victor's article. So, holiday novels: stories from life.
What can I say - not children...
If anyone thought that Resort Romans in our country appeared in the Soviet years, with a developed trade union and medical infrastructure, from Kislovodsk, Pitsunda, Sochi and Sukhumi, then they are mistaken...
Lermontov in “Princess Mary” also walked through healing waters and deceived husbands... And Anton Pavlovich wrote, I PERSONALLY think, the most TENDER, most piercing Russian story about the Resort Romance... Yes, yes, Yalta, “The Lady with the Dog”!.. Remember and the film with Batalov and Savvina... And the music in the film... It’s not for nothing that the composer was a woman - Nadezhda Simonyan.
And foreigners are not fools!.. Oh, they are not fools at all: it was not for nothing that in 1960 the film “The Lady with the Dog” was given the Prize for the BEST NATIONAL PROGRAM “For humanism and exceptional artistic qualities” in Cannes. And you say – adultery!.. What am I talking about?.. And – about Resort Romances!..
Of course, unlike Catherine, I little story I won’t be able to raise the entire layer of the resort theme, and therefore I will sharply draw clear boundaries. My story will concern only Women, and only SINGLES! Moreover, I’ll make a reservation: I personally call Resort Romance only meetings THERE - a Married Man and a Married Woman... And if both the Woman and the Man are single, and just met at the resort - then that’s LOVE!
Ekaterina’s article was written almost THREE years ago, on February 23, 2014... During this time, a lot has changed in the world. ONLY THE WOMEN HAVE NOT CHANGED!
So, let’s start right from Ekaterina’s first phrase: “... NORMAL women are distinguished precisely by the fact that they think in advance about who and what to give and buy gifts ahead of time, and not according to the principle - “okay, I’ll buy SOMETHING on the way...” Katya, and ABNORMAL?.. They go to a resort and get “SOMETHING, and not what they wanted?..” Single women, as the unforgettable Gosha said in Moscow, who doesn’t believe in tears, look appraisingly: only policemen and executives look like that . They (Women, not policemen and leaders) are looking for their Destiny!..
AUTHOR'S DISCLOSURE: After all, God did not give everyone, as some did, a chiseled figure, the appearance of a “blond Jazi,” a tall “ballerina’s” rise, the ability to stand in the 3rd position in all photos, manage to be a Lawyer, a Manager, and be a happy Mother and Wife , and who already knows for sure that he will be both Mother-in-law and Mother-in-law, and will also see half the world)... ERASE THIS, OF COURSE!.. ( Thank you, Victor, I appreciated the compliment! ;-) Ekaterina Titova)
Single women come to a travel agency not just for a trip, but for a Ticket to Life . Very often they fly to Turkey, Egypt or Thailand together with a friend. And they immediately make several mistakes! Which ones? I'll tell you now.
First tip: Never No Girlfriends! Don't be afraid! Nobody will eat you, the One, Mysterious and Unique, at the hotel. And with a Girlfriend, your chances decrease... OUR timid, lonely Male vacationer will not approach you on the beach... And THEIR native will think twice... After all, He will first have to spend money on both of you, inviting you to the Hard Rock dance hall or to the Little Buddha bar " Moreover, if a friend is ugly, she will not give you the opportunity to develop an acquaintance, and a beautiful friend... in principle, she will not give you the opportunity either. And if you get bored, you’ll find a companion there... But at least, you won’t owe anything to Her... You can leave at any moment...
Tip Two: if you are young, beautiful and stupid (in in a good way words) and you definitely want to marry a Millionaire, then it’s in vain to buy a ticket to the “four”... What are you hoping for? Well, there are no millionaires there!
(Victor, in most of the “fives” they - alas - are not found either; and even if respected single millionaires relax in HOTELS, then, as a rule, in separate villas/bungalows/chalets, where they are not so easy to see behind the dense thickets of oleander... Note by Ekaterina Titova)
Tip Three: Never be the first to approach a lonely (without a ring) man on the beach with the question: “Tell me, is this the Red Sea?..” He himself may simply not know it. (And what: will he get scared, blush and run away to cry? - question from Ekaterina Titova) Watch him for a couple of days on the beach... If he is a diver, meet him, RANDOMLY, in the hotel lobby, asking for advice on buying a mask and fins at a local boutique:
– Excuse me, please, I accidentally saw you diving near the corals yesterday... Just like Jacques-Yves Cousteau (just learn well the French name of the inventor of scuba gear!..)
Tip Four : Observe HOW and WHAT he eats... And most importantly, DRINK!.. After all, this is exactly what awaits you in the future family life… (Oh yes, I agree with Victor here!)
Tip Five: before ours - Russians - grooms, never worry about your nationality (Tatar, Chuvash, Bashkir, Buryat...) We, thank God, are well brought up (I say without irony) in the spirit of patriotism and proletarian internationalism.
I will never forget how in the “Grand Oasis” all the unmarried men looked at the dark-skinned, slender girl from Gascony (who remembers, this is in France). Her grandfather once came with her grandmother from Algeria... We “fed” a few dollars to the employee at the reception just to find out the name of this “Gazelle”... The employee quietly looked at the girl’s profile and said that the Russians were unlikely to remember her rare name ...Can you guess three times? NAOMI!.. Who would have thought!..
When the “Panther” from the homeland of D. Artagnan passed along the beach, EVERYONE (every single one!), even married men, diligently... sucked in their stomachs and tried to breathe to the side after the bar. And in private conversations on sunbeds, watching Naomi, all the single gentlemen asserted: “I would marry someone like that without a second thought!..” This once again shows that racism is alien to Russian Men! (In fairness, I note that OUR lonely Women on the beach, seeing the success of the Gazelle, experienced feelings far from internationalism).
Tip Six: after breakfast, don’t take whole bags of buns with you to the beach... Seeing the very “lush” Rubens matron, my friend “Fedya the Foreman” said: “I doubt that any man would go to bed with such a puffing “steam engine” ...
Believe me, I don’t defend men myself. Many of the potential suitors walk around with “beer” bellies, and these are exactly the ones my army sergeant major Trunov called: “Pregnant wolves!..”
Tip Seven: in Thailand you definitely won’t find a husband, since there are no “ours” there, and our men go to look at “theirs” (the so-called “KATOES”, who were also once Men).
It’s not for nothing that in the countries of decaying capitalism there are travel agencies offering (here are the disgraces!) even “sex tours” to Thailand...
...Egypt and Turkey... How many times on the beaches have I heard loud complaints from single women about the “coldness” of Russian men, compared to THESE hot Turks and Arabs... Just Macho on Macha!
I was not too lazy and, in secret, asked the main managers how an Egyptian or a Turk was prepared to work in their hotel. I have already talked in our blog about continental Turkey - Izmir...() There, young men from small towns like Turgutlu are brought up so strictly that when they see a tourist in the street short skirt, crashing bicycles and cars into lampposts...
And the Egyptians... It’s even more difficult there. So imagine an innocent provincial Turkish citizen or a simple Bedouin from the Sahara “collective farm” who gets a job as a beach cleaner and on the very first day of duty, basically sees not palm trees, brooms and sand, but pictures from “The Arabian Nights” . Solid thongs, or even topless... In general, a riot of flesh!.. And these guys are really hot, they don’t know alcohol or limits in passion...
And if HE looked at Her - this curly, long-eyed, sober curly hair, then our modest librarian or accountant immediately... Oh-oh-oh!.. What's that...
That’s why, in the first month of work at the hotel, newbie waiters are kept in “quarantine” - in the kitchen and dishwasher... Although, this doesn’t help much... The burning, bewitchingly black eyes of a macho, even from the barbecue serving window, will scrupulously examine our luxurious blondes in a low-cut neckline appendicitis”, who comes to lunch and dinner in the same pareo or top...
And they, unlike our fastidious compatriots, are not at all afraid of the “excessive complexion” of the arriving Lady... What about the Arabs, even if their Ukrainian brothers, embracing such sultry “Madam Gritsatsuevs”, have long brought into use a wonderful saying: “You will take in your hands, wave it - THING!..”
Almost every Turkish and Egyptian hotel has its own “recorded” heartthrob - Ahmed or Said... Happy women pass on his E-mail and Hurghada phone number to their friends in their cities, like an “amorous” baton... And He is very sensitive and attentive, not forgets to constantly call them - in Irkutsk, Ufa, Perm or Vladivostok, and... unobtrusively ask for money for the treatment of “his long-ill father and for bribing the local police for his beloved brother, who accidentally hit a white camel with a Mercedes at a pedestrian crossing...”
Moreover, which is typical, the hotel owner encourages the home-grown Romeo and in every possible way supports such activities that contribute to the financial strengthening of the Institution of debauchery, entertainment and recreation entrusted to him.
Despite all the “male” vacation destinations listed by Ekaterina, Women reacted very poorly to them, judging by the comments. Apparently, relying on their own logic, described by Friedrich Nietzsche, they reason like this:
(let’s start in order: “Katya’s List” - and the response, internal female monologue)
- Skiers and snowboarders?.. - “Mountains... It’s so dangerous!.. Look, even Schumacher crashed... And what, I’ll be a bedside nurse?.. Besides, where will I show swimsuits and pareos?..”
- Surfing... Diving... - “Thank you!.. Would you like a shark?.. Again, where am I, in the depths, showing off my 12 pareos?..”
— Hunting (Note: women usually perceive hunting for fur animals with a bang, considering it a tour for FUR COATS!..) — “Is this from the series - “We don’t take a gun, we don’t get off the bus?”
- Fishing... “Only herring in Norway or red fish in any restaurant”...
- Fans... (NOTE: the shameful play of our football team has greatly increased free time men in courting the fair sex)…
- Road trips... “You see, he will only look at the road, and only hold on to the steering wheel... But what about me?..”
... And, Catherine’s wonderful final phrase, just like from Lermontov’s “Hero of Our Time”: “A man begins to respect himself after living for several days in the wild, cooking over a fire and listening at night to the crackling of branches in the nearest spruce forest... A real man's rest - it’s ALMOST always... a real adventure”...
And for a Woman, a trip to a resort is ALWAYS an adventure for her... For the rest of her Life!
And now, as the unforgettable Chapaev said, “don’t give a damn and forget about everything that I told you above!..”
I believe that someday, in your Samara, Kazan, Rostov or other airport, approaching the ramp of a Hurghada flight, you will completely accidentally look back at the cargo Ikarus that delivered your suitcases to the plane. You will see a strong man-driver who has begun to help the loaders drag countless bags and trunks. He will accidentally turn to face the departing passengers, and his sky-blue eyes will look enviously after the lucky ones going on vacation at sea.
And you... You will feel so, acutely, like a woman, sorry for Him - unkempt, in a simple washed shirt, clearly deprived of affection, with strong shoulders and muscular arms (without a ring on the right), it will “stick” so sweetly in your heart that you then all the slowly crawling 12 days of rest in the Hurghada “five” you will remember these piercing blue eyes of the Russian hard worker, and you will completely reject the playful advances of pomaded, sugary Egyptian handsome men...
Women, look at the root!
VIKTOR BASKAKOV.
I’ll also add a little on this topic. Happiness, ladies, is not in Turkish “three rubles”, it is in your hands. And as one wise man said, it is impossible to make someone happy if you yourself are unhappy. Therefore, do what you love, live interesting life, improve in your favorite sports and recreation (skiing, badminton, billiards, and even archery!), and go traveling JUST SO, and not for the sake of meeting people on the beach...
And then He (that same YOUR man) will probably notice you. If only because in the crowd of such ladies described by Victor in a pareo and a neckline up to appendicitis (or a ski suit with rhinestones), you will stand out favorably with your ability to beautifully score a “smash”, clearly set the shooting parameters on a “DSLR” or break a “pyramid” "on the billiard table...
If you have your own stories about meeting people while traveling (or maybe this is how you met your wife/husband), you can put them in writing and send them to me for publication in this section.
And I wish you a great mood and a good day!
See you on the blog!
“I was always sure that my man was a Russian man, or rather a Slavic one. Clear language and humor, a similar mentality, not repulsive appearance - previously it seemed that these were the signs of a man who, at least hypothetically, could be considered as my future companion. However, love is evil, as you know, and you will love an Arab. Not for long, of course, but nonetheless.
Going on my very first vacation in my life to Egypt, I didn’t even dream of a holiday romance, since I was going to treat mental trauma received from a local prince. However, the week-long vacation turned out to be stormy and very emotional: at a city disco, where my friend and I went to explore the local flavor, I somehow accidentally met the bartender serving our table. A tall, black-haired, smiling man in the prime of his life—Apollo, no less! Apollo's name was Amin. For the remaining four days of my stay on African soil, we did not part: we walked hand in hand around the city, discussed life values, drank cocktails on the Red Sea embankment and kissed. At times it seemed that our tenderness could not withstand emotions and would simply overflow.
“Love is bad,” my Arab man reasoned, “because you will leave, and my heart will hurt.” It's scary, I know.
He has never seen snow and never studied at university, he rarely sees his four brothers and his mother, because he has to work every day so that he has something to pay for a rented apartment and to eat something every day.
Amin was fired from the nightclub the next day after he left there at 5 a.m. with me: displaying personal feelings towards clients of the establishment during working hours is strictly prohibited.
- This is nonsense, don’t even think about it and just forget. It's just a job, you are much more important. I’ll go work in another bar, it’s okay, that’s the only thing Amin told me about this and hugged me tightly, burying his tender lips in my blonde fluffy hair.
This Arab boy gave me the belief that someone could be interested in me just like that, at first sight, just like that. Next to him, I felt like just a girl, loved, needed, small and weak - I forgot that I was the editor of a popular magazine, I forgot that I had tons of responsibility for authors and readers on my shoulders, but I remembered how dizzy I could be with happiness. Even if it is fleeting. Although we wrote text messages full of love and tenderness to each other for another six months.”
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“When I was getting ready to go on vacation, it was as if someone from above was constantly putting up obstacles and wanted me to stay at home: either my younger brother, for whom the trip to relatives in the south was planned, got sick, then I couldn’t get train tickets, then I twisted my leg literally a couple of hours before the train started moving. Complete jambs!
And Maxim also met me a couple of days before the end of his vacation at sea. But even this time was enough for him to fill the entire space, then bypassing the distances from Moscow to Minsk. He looked after me really nicely. Knew that A 19-year-old girl perceives any sweet surprise as an act of a prince.
Just imagine: without yet knowing me personally, he found out from my cousins the number of the trailer in which I was staying at the camp site, and in the morning I woke up to the crazy-alluring smell of wildflowers, peaches, cherries and paradise apples. He found out that it was my birthday in the summer, and, again through my younger sisters, he gave me a belated gift - a gold pendant with an angel and a ticket to the dolphinarium. At the same time, no rude hints, vulgar confessions, or florid explanations. Before I left the sea, he honestly said that he would find me and would pursue me as long as necessary.
I was afraid, and happy, and dreamed, and did not believe that this was happening to me.
Maxim found out the address of my parents’ house in Minsk and, while I continued to visit relatives, he outlined his intentions to my mother, father and grandfather. His grandfather, by the way, was the only one who treated him very reservedly and kept wondering how a 32-year-old man could so persistently achieve his goals.
Then there was a year of long conversations on the phone, and if Moscow and Minsk had been connected by telephone operators, they would have heard not only his beautiful verbal confessions and wise plans for the future, but also poems, songs, great jokes and even the guitar playing of his best friends. Maxim also knew how to make surprises: he came to the university exam for literally a couple of hours with an armful of roses. Having learned that my parents were starting a renovation, I contacted a furniture company, which, by agreement, installed a new kitchen for them. I helped my father buy a new car and bring it from abroad. Later he persuaded me to take driving and English courses. It was easy and simple with him, he radiated confidence and such male protection. Of course, I gave in, especially since they decided to coincide with my birthday. The only thing is that Maxim always spoke very reservedly about his life in Moscow.
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My mother and I were in his apartment once, met my friends and sister, saw ex-wife and daughter. His parents lived in the North Caucasus and, as he said, were waiting for us as newlyweds for another wedding according to local customs.
Preparations for the Belarusian wedding proceeded rapidly. Maxim did not refuse anything: a custom-made dress, hair and makeup from an expensive stylist, a banquet in a country estate, a motorcade of foreign cars. He explained his good earnings by his profession that was relevant at that time - a representative of a well-known company producing computer equipment. I was happy that I married a reliable, charming and generous man.
In Moscow, I planned to find a job in my specialty and get used to the crazy rhythm. But upon arrival to my husband, literally the next day, the romance ended. In the morning, the landlady of a rented apartment, not his own, showed up, expecting payment for six months overdue. Then Maxim began selling donated equipment and wedding gifts, explaining that he had taken out a couple of loans so that I would not deny myself anything at the wedding. He did not shout, fuss, intimidate or threaten. He calmly explained everything, said that we would survive this difficult time and everything would be as before. At the same time, he did not go to work, because just before the wedding he quit and decided to open his own business. So, we spent exactly a year paying off the debts, in which even my husband’s friends were involved, who did not betray him with a word or a hint at the wedding.
A couple of months later I found out that I was pregnant and that we couldn’t handle Moscow life. We decided to move closer to the south, to a small resort village, where Maxim worked as a taxi driver, sold fish, and God knows what else he did.
When his son was born, his first wife and child showed up, demanding alimony, which he, of course, did not pay. I tried to be understanding, received them in our rented house, listened to their stories of acquaintance. Everything is like a carbon copy: the sea, flowers, charming relatives, fulfilling girlish desires. It became clear that at the age of 19-20 we saw not only an accomplished adult man, but also that amazing future scenario that he had so beautifully planned.
Tired of constant debt and moving (and in 5 years we changed our place of residence in almost seven cities of Russia), I could not stand it. She filed for divorce, took her son and went to live with friends in another city. On small homeland I didn’t go back, I wanted to do at least something in life and achieve it myself. Today I have a second marriage and a little daughter is growing up, I have my own hairdressing salon, and soon I will have an apartment. Maxim appears very rarely, only on his son’s birthday. He already has a different family, also a small son, and all the same plans to open a profitable business...”
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“We met in Hungary, in the city of Siófok on Lake Balaton. Siófok is like Hungarian Ibiza, only quieter. Discos until the morning, dating without obligations, conversations in very bad English. An ideal place when you are 18. That day I was sitting on a swing in the courtyard of the hotel where my friend and companion lived during these holidays. Vita stood nearby and we chatted. “Hey boys, are you Russians?!” - she suddenly shouted to the young people passing by. The “boys” turned out to be Russians only living in Germany, word for word - and we agreed to meet.
We found Lesha very quickly common language and didn’t leave each other’s side all evening, agreed to meet again... and didn’t meet. Whether we mixed up the time or the place, I don’t remember. But from that day we did not approach each other. We saw each other on the street, on the beach, in bars, but didn’t approach.
The day came before Lesha's departure. Although I can’t say that I was madly in love at that moment, and it’s impossible to be bored in the city of Siófok, something haunted me. And I plucked up courage and approached him on the beach, asked what was the matter, because we communicated so well... A stupid misunderstanding, a failed meeting, incorrect conclusions, stupid pride - our explanation lasted no more than five minutes. We met again in the evening, at first we were silent from awkwardness, then we talked vying with each other, danced to, it’s a shame to say, then fashionable R’n’B, we were silent again, but only because words became superfluous, and they kissed for the first time, meeting the dawn on a wooden bridge on Lake Balaton.
Then we parted, everything was clear to me - this is just one, albeit wonderful, evening, tender memories, and I’m not such a fool as to believe in some fairy tales, princes and other evil spirits.
Autumn came, and one day I found a letter on my desk. It couldn’t even occur to me who it was from until I opened the envelope. This letter was like our evening: tender, but not pretentious; sincere, emotional, but not intrusive; in surprisingly good (though not always stylistically literate) Russian. It was the way I probably would have written it if I were a man.
We began to correspond, and, despite the fact that everyone around us had been using emails for a long time, we stretched out this “mail phase”, knowing that everything that would happen later would, perhaps, also be good, but something else. A year later, Lesha wrote: “I have the opportunity, do you want me to come?” And he made it clear that if not, then there was no point in corresponding anymore. But I still didn’t believe that something more could come of this, we were so far away, and we only had one evening and two dozen letters... And during all this time we didn’t even talk on the phone even once!
But in the end I agreed. He arrived... And now we have been together for ten years, three of which we have been married. Sometimes I think with horror what would have happened if my friend had not shouted then: “Boys, are you Russians?”
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