"To know a Slav is to love her"
SLAVS OF A FEATHER:
Can Eastern European Women Succeed in The USA?
By Dawk Ziti, Ph.D.
Are all women equal in elegance, sagacity, and pulchritude? Of course they are not; if they were, then I would have married a Ugandan or a Guatemalan or a liberal eons ago.
I may be the only plutocrat (at least on this site, but probably on the planet) who had the pleasant experience of having not just
one but 3 super Eastern European women visit him in the
USA -- not simultaneously, thank goodness, or I would be worn out! Not only that, the 3 women were from different countries: Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus. This feat makes me an
expert -- so much for
modesty -- and I am sure that you would like to know how these fine ladies fared and what differences exist, if any, between Russian women vs Ukrainian women vs Belarus women? See? I read your mind.
Even more you may wonder, how do Russian women compare to American women? What is it with you?
Women of excellence are difficult to find, incommodious to entertain, and almost impossible to keep. The effort is worthwhile, though: a hard-fought happiness beats an uncontested misery hands-down, at least in my book. Masochists and depressives will take issue with me, but I do not waste my time arguing with people who are afraid of their own shadows.
I am stuck in the US -- for now, anyway; I am still trying to get our President to take me off the ‘no fly list’
-- so I make the most of it by using Elena’s Models (EM) to find a prospective wife. Eastern European ladies are the saviors of the modern world; the tragedy is that they sometimes make the wrong choice in men and end up being crucified.
I urge most Slavic women to stay way from the US, except in the rare case that somebody truly outstanding, such as I, invites them here. I have met 3 women who were on EM and never had to leave the sad, oppressive confines of Los Angeles (LA). What an accomplishment that is! On 2nd thought, perhaps I am a masochist after all.
My quirks aside, Lisa, then age 20, from Moscow, Russia, visited me in 2002 and 2004; Luba, then age 26, from Molodechno, Belarus, came here twice in 2008; and
Sasha*, age 20, from Kiev, Ukraine, left here last month. Were these women similar in any way? What were they like to live with? I wish that I could tell you; I was in a daze most of the time that my guests were with me. I will try to deconstruct their personalities as best I can, and the parts that I cannot remember clearly, I will simply make up. I hope that you appreciate the little things that I do for you.
The 3 Slavic angels who blessed me with their presence agreed to travel to LA. I did not have to bribe or coerce them, although twisting an arm here or there can be quite fun. I guess that I have sadistic tendencies, too.
Lisa and I corresponded for a month before she deigned to come here 3 months later. Luba and I sent letters back and forth and talked on the phone for 3 weeks before she vouchsafed to meet me in LA 5 weeks later. Sasha and I exchanged messages for 16 months before she arrived here 3 months later. All 3 dames had a blast at my place, if I do say so myself; thus, the length of time that we wrote letters had no bearing on whether we would be comfortable in person. My charisma and sex appeal were the overriding factors in that regard, naturally.
All 3 females got their visas with ease. The US embassies in Russia, Belarus, and Ukraine know what to look for, and when an ambassador sees a mini skirt and low-cut blouse on a red-hot young babe, well, you know the rest.
The rate of sexual harassment is higher at US embassies/consulates around the world than at those belonging to all of the rest of the countries
combined. That statistic does not begin to explain what life in the US like. We take pride in our accomplishments, however small they may be.
I bought the tickets for Lisa’s and Luba’s first trip to this
and they paid for their 2nd. I paid for Sasha’s only visit. I simply was following the protocol of a gentleman. I had no ulterior motive, honestly! I did not want to make the women indebted to me, and they knew that I expected no sexual favors. Of course, when they were here, I took what I could get, which was not much, but I had fun anyway.
The 2 L’s, as they came to be known, arrived here bearing gifts. Sasha brought her appetite and dirty laundry.
All 3 ladies had good habits, were affable, and were courteous. Each of them was clean as a whistle, and gave off a high-pitched squeal when I blew on her.
All of the ladies had good morals and values. None of them was promiscuous or lewd, unfortunately. You can walk in to any church, bar, market, or boardroom in the US to find that kind of tramp.
Each of the women had a strong mother who held a good job. Lisa’s and Luba’s moms were teachers/professors. Sasha’s mom was an importer-exporter who traveled frequently to Latvia, of all places. I teased Sasha about the possibility of her dad being a Latvian; she replied that he
probably is Ukrainian.
The 3 gems were equal in intelligence and education. Each of them had a sense of humor. Oh, none of them made me bust a gut; rather, she laughed at my bons mots.
Was any of them ticklish? Probably.
Each of these women was roughly equal in socioeconomic status to the others. Each of them had parents who were upper middle to lower upper
class -- thank goodness! I am tired of the bottom of the barrel people in the US who are lucky to put a cardboard box over their head and call it a home, who do not speak any language, including English, fluently, and who have an arrest record dating back to their elementary school
days -- and those are the members of
As far as I could tell, each lady’s kidneys were good. I will not reveal the criteria that I used to reach such a verdict.
All 3 women were ladies; they did not act like men. They did not denigrate men. They had 2
X chromosomes and a heart of gold, which is more than I can say for the members of the US softball team at the last Olympics.
The 3 ladies were trustworthy to a fault. My mom did not have to hide her good costume jewelry, if that is what you are thinking. Lisa and Sasha were somewhat
moody, however, so my mom stashed away the steak knives on occasion and avoided antagonizing our little guest on those same nights. We were glad, too, that our bedroom doors had sturdy deadbolts.
Speaking of utensils, my 3 friends had great etiquette. Each of them knew a fork from a spoon, which put her head and shoulders above the majority of college graduates in the US. If not for fingers, such people would starve.
My female companions were frugal and never wasted money or food. They were sober, too, although every night around dinner time Sasha wanted to tap into our good rum and Luba had a glass of wine on 2 special
occasions -- her arrival and departure. Contrast Luba’s moderation with the practice in the US of drinking morning, noon, and night; in the US, a special occasion means that you are out of jail and are able to swallow.
Lisa and Luba were very helpful around my abode. Lisa cooked her own meals most of the time because she was on an early schedule: she had to be at work before my mom and I arose. Luba and my mother cooked meals together; ‘family style’ was the phrase that I coined, but without the concomitant fracases that are prevalent in the US.
Sasha ate. Food preparation was not in her repertoire.
Lisa and Luba cleaned the table and washed the dishes. Sasha watched me do everything, but she offered verbal encouragement now and then.
Lisa and Luba were quite capable of amusing themselves with constructive activities when my mom and I were busy or away. Lisa had a job when she was here, and in her spare time, wrote a screenplay and tried to get it produced. Luba took hundreds of photos, uploaded them to her laptop, and made nice montages of them. She was eager to share them with my mom and me as soon as she was finished, and she often added a musical score for embellishment. The industriousness of those 2 women is hard to top; the broads in the US hated Lisa and Luba passionately, and if you were fat, ugly, lazy, surly, and incompetent, you would easily understand why jealousy is the primary pastime here, next to graft, murder, and adultery.
Sasha had a topnotch digital camera and enjoyed posing for photos. I took several dozen of her during her trip here. Am I talented in that regard? Well, I convinced her to remove her clothes a couple of times, if that counts for anything.
No, what I meant was, am I a good photographer? I honestly cannot say, as, to this date, Sasha has not shown me 1 picture. My mom has not fared any better. I casually, through gritted teeth, asked Sasha to show the pictures to my mom and me, and her reply was, “Why? You’re not in any of ’em.” “Yes,” I concurred, “but we’d like to see ’em anyway. Besides, I’m the man who made you famous.” Maybe I should have been more blunt.
From reading my description of the episode, you would conclude that Sasha was a high class supermodel. She was.
Lisa had no cell phone or laptop. She did not need either, as my land line and computer were sufficient. Luba had a cell phone and the aforementioned computer, but she never used the former and only employed the latter to show us our daily photos or photos of her homeland, her family, her friends and her previous vacations, as she was quite a world traveler. Sasha used my computer constantly and she had a cell phone that she used unceasingly. I woke up to the sound of her voice talking on it and all night I tried to nod off as it rang. I should have gone to a hotel, if I wanted to sleep, was her recommendation.
Sasha spoke on the phone as she, my mom, and I made our way through 1 mall after another. Sasha presumably was giving someone a blow-by-blow report of every oddball who passed us by that day or of how my mom and I were abusing her; I cannot say for sure, as I do not speak Ukrainian.
Sasha walked 10 meters ahead of my mom and me at all times. Was she ashamed to be seen with us? Maybe not, but I doubt that we were high on her list. She claimed that she liked to affect a fast pace and that we were slowpokes. Hmm. I heard her mention the word “leprosy” in 1 of her phone chats, but maybe it means something else in her language.
When Sasha left after 6 days, I realized that we never had conversed. My mom was annoyed by it. In that respect, Sasha certainly had adapted to the culture of the US. She blended in quite well. After 27 years, I still do not know anything about my next door neighbors, such as their sex or why they do not have to work for a living.
Sasha never told us about her family, her dreams, or her past. My mom pointed out to her that “We did not even know your last name until 2 days ago, when Dawk bought the airline tickets for you,” and Sasha just laughed. Her excessive secrecy bordering on paranoia will make her a good candidate for the US Supreme court in 20 years.
How did the 3 nymphs get along with my mom? All 3 of them liked her very much, but Lisa and Luba treated her with respect that is due an Italian matriarch. They enjoyed her company and deferred to her in almost every matter. Sasha, too, recognized that my mom has wisdom and talent. “I want another couple o’ those chocolate chip pancakes. I’m starved,” she said almost daily, and when she was ready for me to drive her to the airport on that final day, she requested that my mom “Make 2 peanut butter sandwiches pronto, one for now ‘n’ 1 for when I’m sittin’ around waitin’ for the plane.” Sasha obviously mistook my mom for a short-order cook. She mistook me for a hat rack, but that is another story.
Halfway through her vacation, Sasha changed her tune. “Wash these new shorts that I bought yesterday. Get that spaghetti stain outta the crotch before you start,” she told my beloved, beleaguered mom. “How’d it get there in the first place?” asked my bewildered mother, before tossing the trunks back at Sasha and knocking her sunglasses off.
The 2 L’s showed their gratitude to my mom and me daily; they showered her with kisses and hugged me. They were doubly thankful when they left here; we unlocked the handcuffs then.
Sasha, as she walked out the door for the final time, said to my mom, “You oughta open a restaurant ’n’ a laundry.” She presumably meant not in the same building.
What caused such behavior? Are Ukrainians markedly different from
Russians -- Luba, although born in Belarus, comes from a long line of Russians, the last 2 of whom were told by the Soviet President in 1980, “Tovarisch, we have jobs for you in Molodechno. The party needs you there. Pack your bags and please leave by tomorrow night. Do not ask
questions.” -- in terms of their customs? I am no expert on Slavs, but I would guess that Ukrainians are less generous and slightly more boorish than Russians, although they are better at being Cossacks. I need a bigger sample size to confirm my hypothesis, but I am not so eager to invite another Ukrainian
here -- for a while, anyway -- and the next one will have to provide a letter of reference before she crosses my threshold.
To give some examples of beneficence, Lisa was here for the Mother’s Day holiday. She walked to the market that morning and bought a cake that had the usual greeting on it. She gave it to my mom. “What’s this for?” asked my mom, teasing Lisa. “I wanna show my appreciation for all that you’ve done for me while I’ve been here. So, I bought the biggest cake I could find, a double-decker.” “Oh, that’s not necessary,” protested my mom meekly, eying the chocolate frosting and drooling. “Besides,” she added, “if you’re movin’ out this afternoon ’n’ gettin’ married next week, who’s supposed to eat all o’ this? Dawk’s a vegetarian.” “It’s not so big,” said Lisa, adding, “you’ll finish it in a week.” “Two kilograms?” said my mom with doubt.
Luba knew that my mom was born in August and decided to fly here for a surprise. When I returned from the airport with her in tow, my mom said, “What brings you here?“ Luba replied, Happy Birthday!!!“ My mom grimaced. “Don’t worry,“ added Luba hastily, “I have money for my trip.” My mom smiled and hugged her.
Sasha was already here when my mom’s birthday happened to fall. When I reminded her of it the day before, she asked me point-blank, "What has your mom ever done for me?"
I was quickly reminded of my Uncle Jake, the world’s biggest cheapskate. I considered the idea of matching the 2 of them up, but then I figured that neither of them would spring for the airplane tickets to fly to the other’s place of residence
The situation is an important determinant of how someone will act. I am reasonably certain that I treated my 3 guests with kindness and fairness. Thus, if the situation was held constant, as I claim that it was, then the role of personality becomes enlarged. Sasha’s behavior was typical of an only child, which she is. Lisa, however, also has no siblings, yet her behavior was more productive and goal-directed than Sasha’s. Luba is the elder of 2 females and she was without a doubt the easiest to be around and she showed the most sedulousness with the household chores. She never complained and was a thorough optimist. She truly was a joy to know. What was I thinking? Why did I let her go? I had no say in the matter is why. Ouch!
Sasha was oppositional. She was also quite passive. If I had not told her that my new television (TV) was on the fritz, she would still be here watching it, using my computer, and talking on her cell
phone -- at the same time, a neat trick to pull off, but one that does not make for good company. The stunt is even more fascinating when you realize that the TV is in the den and the desktop computer is in the library, a distance of 7 meters.
Moscow and Kiev are big cities, and Molodechno is a suburb of Minsk, so my 3 sylphs were not rustics. Each of them was savvy and socially adroit. None of them experienced a culture shock upon entering LA. I very well might have had my hands full with a woman from a small town in Siberia, especially if she were a chukchi, but then, I probably would not have sought such a lady in the first place. I do not necessarily
ask for trouble, although I often seem to find it.
Sasha had been on EM for much longer, about 15 or 16 months, when I met her, than Lee-lee and Lu-lu. Does a woman become more bitter, as each day passes, that she is still alone or does being on EM and getting the attention of thousands of men around the world boost her ego and make her a prima donna? Both notions have their merit, depending on the lady in question. If I ever encounter a babe on EM who is testy
and haughty, look out!
I see such creatures daily here of course, but Eastern Europe is the last region of refinement and propriety left in the world. When rudeness and arrogance begin to predominate over there, then celibacy will be the only option, as it is here in the US. A lot of hearts, including mine, will be broken along the way. Scientists will then have their work cut out for them, as building a female robot that can cook, clean, and have sex is an arduous task.
Before you get the wrong impression of Sasha, remember that she was graceful, sweet, and innocent,. When she told me, “Your mom is really sweet for someone
her age,” she meant it in a nice way. I simply responded that “Anybody, except me, is old compared to
Sasha was slightly outre, and so am I. Meeting and dating a Slav such as she is an honor and an accomplishment. I am 10,000 times prouder to meet an Eastern European lady than I am to see the degenerates at the bus stop here in the US.
Would Sasha survive in the US? She absolutely would -- and did. My domicile was just 1 stop on her itinerary. She thrived here, as she did in the other US cities that she was in. Lisa and Luba also were quite successful in LA, New York, and Boston,
cream rises to the top, and these 3 superstars had more than enough acumen and poise for any predicament or job. The 3 of them made friends here, but not on the job, as US employees are a bit sensitive about being exposed as shirkers.
Lisa came here in 2002 and Sasha came here in 2010. Even the least mathematical of you can recognize a difference of 8 years. Trends changed in that span; now, the overwhelming majority of people in the US have cell phones and laptops. I am the Luddite. So, compared to today’s standards, as I mentioned earlier; she simply was hip. She would fit in anywhere on the planet, except for North Korea and Easter Island, but she has no plans to go to either place, as of this writing.
Slavic women compare favorably to any group of damsels who ever sailed the 7 seas. Australian women are just a more primitive version of US women, so they go by the wayside, too. British women can neither cook nor look good in a dress, so they are as useless as tongs to a snake.
German and Austrian women have some good features, but they have no desire to go to the US. Thus, I have little exposure to them, although I applaud their decision to stay put. These women are not as cosmopolitan as the Slavs and those who are from the big cities, such as Munich and Vienna, cannot tell a sausage from a thimble. They can sew as well as a sturgeon, so their practical skills are nil.
In general, city dwellers differ from rural ones, another big revelation that you can read only here. Stay tuned for more insights.
Now, my women, the Italians -- “Hey!” you interrupt. “You’re an Americ…” Do not even
think that pejorative, let alone utter it. I am an Italian who happens to reside in the US for pecuniary reasons. Remember that bromide and we will get along famously. Otherwise, watch out!
Anyhow, the Italian belladonnas are now 10 kilograms heavier than in their salad
days -- they are in their pasta days now -- as they eat more meals than they prepare. They are clean, fastidious, and intelligent, but extremely demanding. They still make a monkey out of the US women, who presently are bringing up the rear, but are a distant 2nd to the Slavs. In your heart of hearts, you know that I am correct; you never heard about me inviting Gina, Sophia, Rosa, and Angelina here, right? Moreover, you do not read my stories on an Italian site, and you never will, which speaks volumes. Unless I improve the
quality of my satires, however, you will not find many more of them
here, either. I deal with the best, so EM is my only choice.
I saw firsthand the success of my 3 Slavic pals in LA. Is NY really a tougher place? No; a person can get mugged or murdered as easily in LA as NY, and Washington, D.C. beats both of them to a pulp.
The NY women have a different outlook from that of LA females, but that is because they wear rose-colored glasses and the LA shrews wear tortoise shell. NY has a colder climate, so the women have 4 sets of clothes and probably as many undergarments, give or take a few, for each season, although actually some have more. The women in LA often eschew unmentionables, which causes the men here to shout, “Put it on!”
The women in NY are more formally dressed and fashion-conscious than their LA counterparts. The New Yorkers are often more educated and career-oriented, too; if you had 6 months of snow and 12 months of rain, you would spend most of your free time studying or working, too, as you would be glad to be indoors, unless you had a water fixation.
The LA women are casual in attire and lax in morals. They wear shorts all year and hang out at the beach--they also hang out of their clothes, but you pictured that before I typed it. I am referring, naturally, only to those viragos who are within 7 kilograms of the proper weight for their height. The lard buckets park themselves near a refrigerator all year.
NY women are closer to their families than LA women are. LA women are loners, as LA attracts misfits and malcontents. NY, conversely, lures diligent, enterprising women with an eye on upward mobility. Both types of ladies will not give me the time of day, but the feeling is mutual, so do not shed a tear for me; furthermore, I have EM to keep me warm and that is all I need to survive.
The Slavic women from any major city would succeed in LA or NY, and they also would prosper in a smaller
dump, such as Salt Lake City. The mores of the people in the middle-sized US metropolises are quite similar to those of Belarussian, Ukrainian, and Russian towns. I cannot picture Eastern European foxes converting to Mormonism, letting their husbands take 3 wives, and tithing 20% of their income to the church, but stranger things have happened. Look at our last election. For faster results, look at our economy.
I almost -- note the italics -- have run out of anecdotes to tell you, and my blood pressure has returned to normal, so how about a quick recap before I all it quits? You can think of it as a pop quiz, for all I care.
Who was the best guest? Which woman did I get farther with? No, I will not ask such inane questions. Your responses would scare me.
If somebody wanted to know which women are better, the Slavs or the US residents, the answer unequivocally would be the Slavs. The Eastern Europeans have no emotional baggage, or they keep it locked up and out of sight so that it does not interfere with their present relationship, and they are a pleasure to be around. Their intellect, poise, charm, and listening skills are nonpareil. They do not embarrass you or use you for your money. They are respectful, trustworthy, modest, and respectable at all times. The US females are, simply put, nothing to write home about. If you date them, summons your doctor pronto, as a lack of morals and restraint can lead to any of several major diseases.
To elevate the discussion to a new level, who wins the Russian versus Ukrainian battle? I favor the Russians. The only women to reject me out of hand are those from St. Petersburg; I seem to be batting zero with them, for some odd reason, so they have my utmost respect. The Russians overall seem to be of a slightly higher class than the Ukrainians and somewhat haughtier, but yet they always know how to act and what to say in a given situation. Both countries should hold their head high, as these women are the ideal. Luba was from Belarus, but was a Russian ethnically; I predict that the Belarussians are probably 2nd to the Russians and a fraction of a hair above the Ukrainians. I would take a Ukrainian over anybody else in the world and be eternally blissful, however, so 3rd place is a great position to be in; would that I was in any sexual
position with a Ukrainian.
If you find a Slav, savor each moment with her and play it by ear. If you find yourself stuck with a shrike from the US, get a prenuptial agreement.
The eastern European women -- particularly the Russkies -- have some rare qualities. For one, they genuinely enjoy your company and make you the center of their
universe -- and their hands are neither down your pants nor on your wallet. These fine ladies are generous in time and spirit and have kind hearts. They also appreciate everything that you do for them, and they can hold an intelligent, nonviolent, non-accusatory dialogue with
you -- in English!
Finally, how would Slavic women do in Helsinki, Oslo, or Barcelona? How the hell should I know? Listen, if you are so curious, then please take 1 of Elena's Models Individual Romance Tours to Moscow, Minsk, Kiev, and other topnotch cities to meet stupendous women who will make your head spin.
|(Dawk Ziti, Ph.D.,
an Italian non-denominational Christian, would have submitted this article to a psychological journal, but he realizes that the aforementioned pseudoscience is preoccupied with phony studies of how homosexual pedophiles are justified in their behavior and how happily married heterosexuals are perverted people who should be incarcerated. He can be reached at
firstname.lastname@example.org; nude photos of nubile women get a faster reply)
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