Find a wife in 10 days.
One day I was asked to show the city to the Italian tourist. Why not, I thought, and began to show: here we have the Red Square, and this means, Alexander Garden, and here, in Stoleshnikov, we buy "maserati" on weekends - everything is as it should be.
Signor Giovanni, as, in turn, relies on a true Latin man, absent-mindedly glanced around the temple of Christ, politely gossiped at bridges and really enlivened only at the sight of tall blond Russian women. That is, about every three minutes.
- And where you can get to meet them? He finally broke down.
I'm married about a hundred years. I do not know where they are now acquainted with young beautiful Russian women.
"But is it possible?" Said the Italian.
I shrugged and mentally begged for a quick shower. Then you can shove the temperamental latin in the cafe and leave alone with the laptop. What is his Moscow beauty women to him, if he did not even notice the dug garden ring.
"Because, you see, I came here for my Russian wife," Giovanni said. - And I do not have much time, only six days and four more in Petersburg.
"Do you hope to find a Russian wife in ten days?" - I was amazed.
In response, Giovanni, overturning all the stereotypes about the charming mess-up southern peoples, presented a notebook in which the most detailed parameters were recorded, corresponding to his, Giovanni, the idea of a future life companion.
"Marriage is a serious matter," he said impressively. - I thought about the situation for a long time and decided that I needed a Russian wife. Believe me, there is nothing accidental in my list.
"A fair-skinned blonde," I read. - Age - up to thirty. Height - no less than 170. Weight - up to 55 kilograms. Higher education, knowledge of English is compulsory. Worthy family, the presence of at least one brother or sister. Lord, this is why you need it?
Giovanni looked at me in astonishment.
- I just want to be sure that the woman is healthy and she has good genes! I care about our future offspring!
And then I first looked attentively at the groom. What about his appearance? Not Marcello, of course, Mastroianni. To put it mildly. Low, full, with a bald head and a rather dull nose. A man as a man, absolutely normal for his fifty years. There was no crushing charm in it, either.
A young tall blonde would look next to him like an Arabian horse next to a pony.
"Listen, Giovanni," I began cautiously. - I understand you, of course, I sometimes dream about Colin Farrell, but ... Do not you think that ten days is very little to conquer your Russian woman ... ah ... level?
"My God, I'm a foreigner!" Giovanni grinned condescendingly. - Do you understand? I am a foreigner who is ready to marry!
And then I was covered.
- Signor came to us from the early 90's? - I asked moderately venomously.
- No, I came from Tuscany. And what, Russian women no longer want to live in Italy?
How can I tell you, I thought. They want some, but some do not. Other Russian women need Buenos Aires, and who in Arkhangelsk is not bad.
We Russian women are very different. We, by the way, are not all blondes, there are among us red, and brown-haired women and even - a surprise! - burning brunettes!
But in one we are for the most part similar: for the most part we have already discovered for ourselves a simple truth that a man is not a means of transportation. If a young, intelligent, well-educated Russian woman wants to live in Tuscany, she will simply take and will live in Tuscany. Yes, it will not be easy, and serious efforts will have to be made for this, but this is quite realistic. And to marry for this is absolutely not necessary.
Generations that looked at a foreigner as an alien, no more.
A massive women's swim "over the hill", if only to leave, because "there" paradise, inhabited by angelic husbands, drowned about fifteen years ago. Then any holder of the European or, above, American passport went for the prince: he will come, fall in love, take me away, and everything will be like in a Hollywood movie. In the 90s, Russia was something of a marriage reserve with frightened brides, than "American fights" of very different caliber and intentions were used quite well.
Bad news, guys. The bar is closed. In the equation "will come - fall in love - will take away" there was one more unknown: feelings of the woman.
They, feelings, for the sake of justice, met in the 90's. Those who then married for love, and not for a passport, already in the same Tuscany daughters get married. Or in Madrid. Or in Denver - where destiny and love led.
So, about feelings. The current city dweller "not older than thirty" can not explain that a man can be valuable because he lives abroad. That it can be "taken out", and it will be kind of like happiness - to live in Europe, give birth to children, depend on your husband and be a blonde. She "exports" herself, and there are more airport marks in her passport than the conditional Giovanni. And she also has the Internet and enough brains to understand: the real life has nothing to do with the film "Roman holidays".
The middle class lives almost the same everywhere: it saves, plans a budget, twice a year is chosen on leave.
Charming vintage "weight" with a wicker basket for hot bread is a movie. And the reality is weekly purchases at the mall, discount coupons and yes, husband's money, because its most likely not to be.
If you look at the family as a pool of resources, it is absolutely unprofitable for a modern Russian woman: she invests in this enterprise incommensurably more than a potential husband, and as a rule has no voting rights in the distribution of profits. Zero, destroy, nullify this sad math can only one thing: love. And she, as you know, rarely looks at the passport.
For a long time we were an easy and desirable prey: for a huge number of foreign men, the "Russian wife" is still a synonym for a soft, submissive, complaisant being that will regularly bear children, lead a house and ride around her husband. And so every time my foreign friends find out that this is not so, they ask with amazement and even some insult: "Yes, what's the problem? We could get married, she could move in with me, get a European passport ... After all, what am I worse than the moron that I know from school? And we do not need common cultural codes, we have been living in the global world for a long time! "
I'm a Russian wife. I'm complaisant. I will not talk about cultural codes. I'll be talking about the fact that she's probably an "asshole". And even if this love ends in nothing, it is more important to her than a residence permit in your beautiful city. And for her, a Russian woman, it is important to respect your desires and ultimately yourself.
After all, from someone who believes himself irresistible thanks to a foreign passport, you will not get respect.
- So, you do not know where you can meet Russian women who want to get married? Giovanni asked insistently and somewhat disappointedly.
"On the Internet," I muttered. - On dating sites "Brides from Russia".
- Oh no! Giovanni was frightened. - I'm an old school man, I do not trust dating sites. And besides, on the Internet, Russian women present to the men some absolutely prohibitive demands!
That's good, I thought and just laughed.