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Having grown up in New York, I had taken for granted that people were always striving for something, or at least striving to be striving for something.In Russia, most of the guys I met were engaged in some sort of dubious import/export business in electronics; the rest were involved in “business” (if you ask what kind of business, and there is a marked pause followed by the word “business,” you should refrain from asking any more questions).Only a few minutes ago, we’d been standing together drinking beer, when the other guy made the dubious and drunken decision to put his arm around me.What happened next was awful, confusing, and I wanted it to stop.A great many of them confessed to dreaming of moving to a beach in Bali, roasting barbecue all day, and copulating furiously with island women.This is why teaching ESL was booming there; for anyone who had any semblance of ambition, the goal was to learn English, the golden ticket to getting out.
” it is with the greatest relish that I slap my American passport onto the desk and yell “That’s my visa! I was born into a crumbling communal building in St.
Petersburg in 1988, moved to New York when I was five, and then moved back into a different crumbling communal building in St.
Petersburg after graduating from my overpriced New York liberal arts college.
Russians, on the other hand, aren’t going to let a little thing like your disinterest keep them from being your boyfriend.
I’ve had male suitors who kept calling for years after I stopped picking up the phone.
But I’m not going to lie: Part of me was turned on. ”Suddenly, I wished my women’s studies professor from Sarah Lawrence were there.