Chapter 8: St. Petersburg
May 1, 2017
8 minutes read

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Chapter 8: St. Petersburg

Need, Want.

Such a fine line.

SoundTrack: Dikanda - Ederlezi (Azamat edit)

Saturday, April 2, 2016.

I matched with Ksenya, and we were supposed to meet at a museum. But I changed my mind at the last minute. “How about we skip the museum and head straight to the wine?”
“Deal,” she said.

Chat with Ksenya, half an hour later.

Ksenya: Maybe we better drink wine at ur place?
Me: We can. I’m curious to know why?
Ksenya: It has nothing to do with sex. We’ll start at your place then we’ll go to a pub.
Me: Okay.
Ksenya: Can I bring one female friend? I just promised to meet her this evening.
Me: You promised her? When? 20 minutes ago?
Me: What’s with all those last minute changes? I’m confused.
Ksenya: It has to do with the car. Let’s meet at 9.

“We are late, sorry,” she texted me at 9 p.m. while I waited for them at the metro station.
Half an hour later she told me to head home because they were running late.

Luck is an attitude

This was written right there on that big ass cup of wine which I filled with the cheap Bordeaux I just bought.

10:39 p.m. Me: I see. So you were actually never gonna show up, that’s why you told me to go home ^^ I appreciate that :)
11:10 p.m. Ksenya: Nooo, I had troubles sorry.

At 11:39 p.m., I sent her the song “Fort Minor - Where’d you go”. I did not pour wine into my cup before 11:43 p.m. Can you imagine me sitting on that bloody table, waiting for her to show up? Teased by a bottle begging me to taste a drop of its divine juice?

In parallel, at 11:00 p.m., I had asked Yulia if she wanted to hang out.

11:19 p.m. Yulia: I am at Union Pub.
11:20 p.m. Me: Would you like to come to my place?

She read my message but didn’t answer. I broke the silence and sent her the same youtube video I sent Ksenya. Hell yeah!

11:53 pm Yulia: Lol, so I’m with friends here, you can join, or I can come later.
11:54 pm Me: Sure, come over once you are done.

And at David’s suggestion, I added.

11:54 pm Me: I might need help finishing that wine.

Past midnight, I was alone, writing on my computer and enjoying that perfect Bordeaux.
“Dude!” I told David, “I’m gonna write a book called Tinderland!”
“You do have enough material,” he said.

On this day, April 2nd, 2016, Tinderland was born. Happy B-Day Tinderland!

The Return of the Jew

Chat with Yulia

Wednesday, Apr 6.

Yulia: Apparently I would love to meet tomorrow in the evening
Me: Apparently?
Yulia: Does it sound good?
Me: I am not free before 8 p.m.
Me: Also, I would like to know why you said ‘apparently’
Yulia: So 8 p.m. at Nevsky?
Me: not before you answer your apparently
Yulia: Oh, so complicated…
Me: It’s very simple. No explanation, no apparent meeting.

I mean let us think of it this way. Yulia acts slutty. She jumps on everyone and gets laid with anyone including her coworker. So, why was I being a nice guy with her, telling her stuff like, “I won’t get you home if you are tired or drunk”? I should have probably brain fucked her instead.
“You should tell her that you want to meet her, ‘No Jews Attached,’” David told me.

Thursday, Apr 7.

Yulia: Hm… Then okay
Me: I am confused. You answer three hours after the time you said you want to meet?

Friday, Apr 8.

Yulia: That’s just because this message wasn’t sent apparently (your favorite word sorry)
Me: What do you want Yulia?

I never heard back from her. Is this the end of Yulia and the Jew?


Saturday, April 9.

A 21 y’old match called Natalya agreed at the very last minute to meet me. She took me to a museum called Errata which is located on the other side of town. Two hours later, we headed back to the city center where we grabbed a drink. At 11:30 p.m. we decided to hop to another bar. But the one she chose had a 200 ruble entrance fee that she did not want pay #collegeLife.

So we left and headed to the metro station, but once there, she suddenly ‘had to meet a friend’ that showed up out of nowhere.
“Why?” I asked.
“I’ll see her then I’ll go back home.”
I paused for a second and thought, ‘What the fuck! Then, I casually said, “how about you head back with me, and then tomorrow you go home?”
“Where do you live?”
“Ok. I’ll take a cab at 4 a.m and go home.”
Taxi? Home? 4am? Why?

Once home, we drank wine and watched a couple of youtube videos. Then, I used the same old trick. I turned off the lights, kissed her, and undressed her. She got aroused as soon as I touched her. Her kissing was deplorable. I nonchalantly took her to the bedroom. I put the condom on, and I fucked her until she came — which was rather fast. She didn’t know how to ride. She was ticklish, and the list of bumps down the road went on and on.
I was bored. I tried to give life to this short-lived event by engaging in a conversation. I invited her to try new things, but she didn’t want to learn, and she only wanted me to cum.

After I came, we lay on the bed for a moment.
“Did you expect to have sex with me?” I asked her.
“Not really.”
“When did you think that you’d want it with me?”
“Probably at the metro.”

She ordered a taxi. We wore our clothes, and I accompanied her downstairs where we waited for the cab. When it arrived, we kissed and said goodbye. The street was deserted. The night awakened and it was as dark as my sadness. I was cold, and I tried to hide in the warmth of my scarf and coat, but I did not want to go back home. Not yet.

I followed the car with my eyes, and when it disappeared at the end of the street, my heart missed a beat. She knew all along that this was nothing more than a one night stand. I realized now that for her, I was nothing more than an object. And I wondered, was that how I have treated all the girls in Moscow? Have I lost my humanity? I shivered.


Sunday, April 3.

This morning, I matched with Medina, an absolutely hot girl. Her boobs… Mamma Mia! She’s one of those girls who have at least one picture on social media where you can clearly see a dark strip running between her breasts. A sight that would make men gasp and to stalk all of her pictures praying the heavens for another similar boob selfies, just one more, and another, and another… This obviously proved to be excellent masturbation material. But I did not cum just yet because she happened to be quite responsive on chat.

Chat with Medina

Me: So, when can we meet?
Medina: I usually do “Monday motivating breakfasts” with one of my friends. But she’s not in time, so I have a free ‘slot’
Me: Am I supposed to book you?
Medina: We only accept credit cards.
Me: So my job is to give you a week worth of motivation?
Medina: If you dare give me some kind of motivational talk, I’ll kill you!


Medina: So, how many Tinder matches did you have? One hundred?
Me: Nope, 200!
Me: Joke aside, I wonder if you could be the one that would make me contemplate removing tinder.


Medina: I don’t compete with men. I only compete with myself :D
Medina: Men have to be better in everything and they have to compete between each other ;)
Medina: I root for men. Men rule the world.
Medina: Women rule the world on periods.
Medina: I’ll be queen of the world. Call me “Her Majesty Medina”
Me: Ah, the PMS ♡ So you’re a queen two days and during the remaining 28 I am the king?
Medina: Two days? Man, this goes on for a full week!
Me: PMS lasts a week?!
Medina: It depends. Besides you have to count the periods :D
Medina: When you’re single, you can be kind for four weeks per month.
Me: But what is a king if deprived of his queen?
Medina: This reminds me of my ex who was such an asshole…
Me: How many exes you had?
Medina: 3
Medina: One for 4 years
Medina: One for 2.5 years
Medina: One for 6 months
Medina: Every time, it gets shorter :D

We chatted till 6 a.m. and even though I was sleepy, I couldn’t wait to meet her a few hours from now!

Continue to Chapter 9: Drama Wednesday.

Piotr Yordanov

I am passionate about telling stories by using words, technology, and music.

❦ Tinderland

I used Tinder to quench my sexual frustration, which only made me addicted to sex. But, I found an unusual way out.