Rules for dating russian men
While, aesthetically, nothing about my so-called outfit made sense, something told me I was on the right path.
Speaking of excess, my makeup took about an hour more than usual, mainly due to the globs of foundation required to reach that laminated look popularized by the K-clan.
It was like the Russian Man Whisperer had descended from the sky and awarded me with the Ten Commandments of seducing Slavic gentlemen.
After thanking my lucky stars for a task easily accomplished, I was hindered by another realization.
I asked for three Moscow mules and a plate of pickled vegetables, the least sexy food on the menu that tasted like heaven and constituted as the best ten minutes of the evening.
I even let my guard down for a few minutes to bless the joint with a smile.
Tight black gear was pulled out of the backs of closets, Louboutins were dusted off after years of hiatus..
It dawned upon me that I was like the woman my friend had described in her email. In fact, I am the kind of person who can easily hijack all the oxygen in the room, immediately diminishing all chances of coming off as cold or “untouchable”.
Secondly, I like to ignore nail salons for extended time periods and have trouble conceptualizing outfits that do not revolve around jeans and black crewnecks.
My friend came over with a huge Chanel Boy bag in tow.
Sensing that this was the piece of the puzzle I had been missing all along, I bribed her into lending it to me.
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Armed with a 5K Fuck You accessory, I finally felt ready to step out into the world of privilege and pretension.