Chapter 7: The Jew
A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.
St. Petersburg, Russia.
Friday, April 1st, 2016.
Thursday evening, I landed in St. Petersburg by train. Wait, how can I land by train? David and I swiped and had tons of matches. “David?” I hear you asking raising your eyebrows? Nope, I’m not gay. David is my Argentinian friend. We met in Thailand a year ago, lived the digital nomad lifestyle and, out of pure chance, met at the same time in Russia. I took a plane to get here. He took the Trans-Siberian because he needed a reason to not do it again.
The next day, Friday, April 1st, David and I were having lunch when I matched with Yulia.
“What are you up to tonight?” she asked me.
Holy fuck, this woman is fast. I hope it ain’t no bloody April’s fools. Well, it’s not really bloody, but hey, you never know!
“Seeing you, maybe?” I answer.
“I am going with my friend at 9 p.m. to a pub. Wanna join?”
She sent me the location, and I headed there with David. The girls arrived at the pub before us. We, had to go over the boring introductory questions while making all sorts of hypocritical faces claiming we were fascinated to learn what we would have forgotten pretty soon.
“What do you do in life?” I asked Yulia.
“I do marketing in a company.”
“How long has it been?”
“Two years, and you?”
“Let’s say that I have my own bootstrapped company,” I said, even though that was not quite true.
“Oh, that’s awesome!” she said, “I also want to have my own company!”
“Why? You want to be your own boss?” I asked.
“I guess so.”
“Why would you want that?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you at least know what you are passionate about?”
“I don’t know… I never thought about it.”
Typical wannabe entrepreneurs. At least, Yulia was blushing which gave me a satisfying boner.
At 11:15 p.m. Yulia’s friend left and David didn’t feel like insisting on keeping her around. Then, Yulia asked me, “Are you fine if my coworker joins us?”
“Another friend of mine might also join. She’s a girl, that way we keep odds even,” she winked.
Aha, very attentional. I like that. The coworker was a French called Florian. We shook hands and I said, “Salut!”
I love the French language for a very simple unbiased reason: It is my mother tongue. Then the girl joined us, sat next to me and asked me: “Where are you from?”
“I’m half Lebanese, half Russian. You?”
I did not choose my origins, and it’s not like any of us does. But as soon as I told her where I was from, she cringed. “You know, I lived one year in Israel.”
This meant straight up two solid things.
One: She’s a Jew.
Two: She’s a Jew :3
Lebanon and Israel have been in a ‘permanent’ phony war ever since I was born. Nothing ever happens on the border. I don’t even know what the fuck it is we are fighting over, but I know that those motherfuckers have the best startup scene in the region. Also, an Israeli can easily get laid using Tinder. #jealous
“Hey,” Florian asked her, “are you tipsy?”
“No,” she shouted, “I am not a gypsy. I’m a Jew!”
“Let’s go clubbing!” my new friends suggested at 1 a.m.
On the way to the club, the Jew put her hand behind my back, grabbed mine and forcefully pulled it to her side as if she was tying it to something. The others were ahead of us.
“So, what do you think of Yulia?” she asked me.
“Who is asking?” I answered diplomatically. “You or Yulia?”
“Do you have some chewing gum?”
“What?” I rolled my eyes. “No, I don’t. Why? You like to put stuff in your mouth?”
“Ha Ha, you’re not funny.”
We stopped in front of The Church of the Savior on Blood, and David said, “Christianity has its way of getting sexual in the name of God of course... Oh, and the Virgin Mary.”
“A bloody fuck fest,” I added.
We did not take selfies.
We did not go in the church.
We did proceed to the club called Stackenschneider which was right around the corner. The gods of booze and dancing finally smiled on us! Inside, I decided to hit hard on my Tinder date. But, I was neither into her nor into the Jew. I feared hitting on either, and I worried that if I did, the others would be left out. I believe I overheard Yulia asking the Jew something that sounded like, “are we gonna kiss?”. Wait… What?
My hard-on begged for the two girls to kiss making my dreams cum true. They danced, but didn’t kiss. Were they teasing me? A guy wearing a white shirt engaged in a conversation with them, and despite my jealousy, I noticed him slipping a white pill in the hands of the Jew. Did she finally get her chewing gum? So many questions, so many possibilities, and so much hesitation.
The Jew went away, leaving me the golden opportunity I had been waiting for. Or, did she leave on purpose? Yulia and I danced together. I moved my hands but I did not touch her. Then, I asked her, “do you like the music?”
“It’s alright,” she replied.
“And, do you like me?” I improvised.
Sure? I didn’t ask her whether she like some vegetable she was buying at the market!
David and Florian bought shots. Once we drank them, I turned around and saw Yulia and the Jew kissing.
“I need a break,” I said then headed to the bathroom.
Why would Yulia kiss the Jew? What was she trying to do? Was that a test? Did she suddenly get completely drunk? Then it hit me: I should go and kiss the Jew in front of Yulia. I rushed back to the dance floor, but I couldn’t find the girls.
“Your Tinder match is making out with everybody!” David told me.
“What the fuck?” I said scouting the dance floor where I found Yulia devouring a blonde girl.
What on earth was going on! To my left, the Jew was talking with a guy on a wheelchair. Throughout the night, she did it twice. Why, oh why! What does that mean? I’m probably overthinking.
But then, David and I were left alone. What’s with the pills? What’s going on in their heads? Did they get bored and leave without notice? But, I decided to smile and I told David, “This is going to make for a fantastic story!” (And, in truth, Tinderland was born when I wrote this chapter!)
I finally saw our three friends chilling at the bar, and they looked very sober. Moments later, they joined us. Yulia started dancing around me, but I ignored her and kept my eyes closed. I even removed my glasses to make it clear that I did not want to see clear. But in reality, I was confused, and I needed to understand their intentions. I needed to feel in control.
I was right! Seconds later, Yulia and Florian, the two coworkers, were kissing. Are they fucking kidding me!? Yet, I smiled and looked at David who noted that he was pretty drunk. Then, the Jew started grinding on me in a frenetic, uncontrolled way. Drunk is an understatement.
And because she is a wonderful creature of surprises, she turned around and said, “Buy me a drink!”
“Nope!” I answered.
“Why? You do not have enough money?”
Oh, the lovely psychological tricks at play!
“I won’t buy you one because you are not sober.”
She went away.
“This Jew is really creepy,” David said.
From this point on, we referred to her as “The Jew”. I even forgot what her real name was!
Enough with this circus! I stopped dancing, and I walked towards Yulia. I put my hand on her shoulders and I squeezed gently. She turned around, and smiled. I pulled her towards me, and we kissed. There, this seals the deal! She turned around and rubbed her ass on me.
David came in front of her and they kissed.
She turned around and kissed me.
And then, she broke the dance and went towards Florian and kissed him too!
The poor Jew was left alone.
Then Yulia vanished again, God knows where. The Jew was nowhere to be found, so it was us three boys left together. No. We did not kiss. -,- Only by transitivity maybe, but nothing more.
Yulia came back, ladies and gentlemen! The Show Must Go On! David tried to dance with her, but she rejected him. When I came behind her, she smiled and grabbed my hand. We kissed and danced but I noticed that her eyes were closed. I raised her chin and stared at her and I waited for her to open them. She blushed when she did, then I kissed her. She wanted to kiss me more, but I denied her. She tried again, and I denied her again, building up tension which I could feel in the way she pressed on my body. She finally exploded, threw herself at me and kissed me passionately. She then went away. Toilet maybe? Another club? I bet that even God could not make an accurate prediction.
I did not anticipate the return of the Jew who danced with me and asked me right away, “are you gonna buy me a drink now?”
“Not even water?”
“Stop being a fucking Jew!”
Throughout the night, David and I saw her hanging out with random guys at the bar, probably asking them to buy her drinks. But, I wanted my Yulia back, so I went hunting her down in the toilets! She wasn’t there and I was tired, so I crashed on a nearby couch.
Then, out of nowhere, the Jew landed on my lap and said, “You still won’t buy me a drink?”
“You Arabs are such pussies. You don’t dare to do anything. You won’t spend your money on anything.”
I sighed, annoyed by the politics. I wished to be alone.
“Will you take me home with you?” she proceeded.
“Why? Are you shy? You Arabs…”
Those Arabs again. I bet a camel will show up somewhere with a veiled black swordsman shouting Allahu Akbar.
“Because I don’t like you, and you are drunk,” I said.
David learned over and asked me if I wanted him to ‘buy her out’ with a drink. I nodded, but she didn’t want him. No one wanted my David, or had I made myself desirable by rejecting the Jew? She was now rubbing her ass on my lower body parts. If she disliked arabs so much, why did she so badly want to go home with me?!
She finally left me alone. I walked back to the toilets hoping to find Yulia, but I bounced into Florian.
“Why is Yulia acting like this?” I asked him.
“It might be because she’s on her period,” he replied.
So, after all, this is a bloody April’s fool!
I went back to the dance floor where I found Yulia dancing alone. We kissed, but she looked tired so I suggested we took a break at the couch. There, I asked her, “do you want to go home with me tonight?”
“No. I’m tired…”
“And you are also very drunk, right?” I asked.
“I don’t take drunk girls home. Besides, I’m staying here for a while, so we’ll have time to meet up later, right?”
She nodded and smiled. I saw genuine appreciation in her eyes.
“Come,” I told her, “let me walk you back home.”
“I’d love that.”
It was only once outside in the cold street that I realized how drunk I was. We walked and kissed, then kissed and walk. I lifted her from her armpits, and she put her legs on my hips, and then we kissed again. We had to cross over what looked like a romantic bridge. I was tired but also quite horny.
I kissed her then said, “I don’t care about sex, still, may I invite you to come over to my place?”
“Not this time,” she replied.
At her front door, I told her, “My dear Yulia, thank you very much for tonight. I wish you a great night sleep and hope to see you soon!”
“Thank you,” she answered and our lips touched one more time.