Russian Brides Cyber Guide
Our readers may remember
Dr. Dawk Ziti, well known from his accounts of encounters with real
Russian Women he meets online. Here is his latest creation depicting
his online adventures.
by Dawk Ziti, Ph.D.
If you like curiosa, then you are in the right place. If not, then get lost. Simple, huh?
Since the Spring of 2002 I have used Elena’s Models (EM) exclusively as my source to find stupendous Eastern European women. If you are smart, then you will follow my example, but we will see how well you do on the aforementioned test before we start accrediting qualities such as intelligence to your account.
EM is not merely the best place to find great Slavic women, it is the only site, period. My experiences on EM have been thoroughly satisfying, so what other testimony do you need? You need none, if you know what is good for you; your judgment in such matters always has been a wee bit questionable, though, so I am writing this treatise to educate you.
I indite about my activities on EM for other reasons, too, but I have no inclination to share them with you. Who do you think you are, my conscience? If I wanted a father confessor, I would go to a church, but the molestation would rub me the wrong way. Moreover, I am not Catholic.
Why do I produce first-rate satires and send them to Elena Petrova, the owner of EM? I am bored and have nothing else to do, you say? That guess was a rather poor one; you will have to do much better, if you want to impress me. Meantime, hold your tongue.
If you must know my reasons for creating tracts, then you can start with this one: some of my encounters on EM have been so downright hilarious that I must tell the whole world about them. I will give you several examples shortly; as I recall, however, your sense of humor leaves a lot to be desired, so you must take my last statement with a grain of salt and a pinch of garlic.
See what I mean? You are not even smiling yet. I will have to do something about that.
In truth, I feel sorry for Elena: she has built an empire, but gets no appreciation for it--money, yes, but where is the respect? Thus, I dash off a story now and then to show my gratitude for her landmark efforts in the realm of international relationships. Most of the best times that I have had in the last few years were with the women who I met from EM. If you were not such a scaredy-cat, then you could say the same.
The highlight of my day is reading the new profiles on EM and answering the mail that the ladies send me. My mom encourages me to use EM because it keeps me out of her hair when she cooks and cleans.
She likes it for another reason. She has
gone on record as saying, and this is a quote, people, from a patrician,
so pay attention, “Go on EM ‘n’ find another Lisa or Luba. I’m
tired o’ bein’ here with just you day after day.”
“You really liked Lee-Lee ‘n’ Lulu,” I stated unequivocally. “Yes, ’n’ I woulda been happy if you had married either o’ them. Both of ’em were much more refined ‘n’ pure than the trash that you see around here.” I nodded. “Heck,” she continued, “I practically would prefer that you took up with a homosexual than with the uncouth women in the US, ‘n‘ you know how unappealing that group of people is.” I nodded vigorously, but you could not see it, as you were not there. Now you know what I go through at home. I get plenty of love and support.
My mom is a real card and I love her dearly; she certainly has a knack for speaking the truth. I tell all the women on EM with whom I correspond about my mom and my trials and tribulations with her. As a result, I have learned that my mom is not the only funny lady in the universe. For instance, on April 1 of this year, Olga from Ivano-Frankovsk, Ukraine, wrote* to me, “I’m sorry to hear about your mama’s mouth infection. How can she eat the pizza if she can’t open her mouth?” That question was a good one.
I answered her: “She is on a liquid diet. She takes antibiotics and has no appetite anyway.” Olga said, “When I’m in the US, I’m gonna eat pizza every day. Can your mama still make the pizza?” “My mom never made a pizza in her life. She is from Brooklyn, not Napoli or Calabria, Italy.”
“Oh!” I never imagined that a
180 centimeter tall, 57 kilogram heavy, 23 year old could be so obsessed
with pizza. Pizza is quite tasty, though. I will be back in a minute.
I replied, “Lena, do not worry. Lisa
and Luba wanted me to write stories about them. They were hams,
as we say. I promise, though, that I will never write a story about you,
so do not be a fraidy-cat.” Almost 3 months have passed; I
lied to her, but not intentionally. Besides, I changed her name, age,
and city. She is lucky that I held out as long as I did.
My satires have done wonders for my social life. I told Ksyu, age 24, from Minsk, “I am almost famous.” “No, you’re not,” was her rejoinder. She added, “I’ve certainly never heard of you or your works.” She really knew how to rub it in.
I told her that my stories had not been
translated into Belarussian yet and moved on to another 24 year old
lady. “Do all the people in the awesome St. Peter--my nickname for
your city--refer to you as Ekaterina the Great?” I asked her. “No,”
she said quite modestly, “everybody here calls me Katya.” She
set me straight.
I was really impressed; the onion had smooth skin and was perfectly round. “You really know your onions,” I told her. We had a little tiff over condiments, though, so 2 days later, I sent her this photo, with the caption, “Watch out!”
She replied that “We are no longer oil and vinegar together,” and that I should be “cool as a cucumber from now on or we would be through.” I was fit to be tied, so I sent her this photo
and said, “I hope that you end up in a
tossed salad.” We were history; she tasted good, though-- very tangy.
The woman in question is not on EM anymore, so she must have sent her message to somebody who has no sense of humor, or who understands Russian. I do not know who that is, but may Gulnara rest in peace.
Then, as if on cue, my mail took a turn for the better. A woman with real oomph got the ball rolling.
“Great!” I told her. “I asked, though, if you have a summer house.” Some things are lost in translation, I guess. Actually, I was kidding her, and she knew it; her English was better than that of 99% of the people, and I use the term loosely, in the US; her Spanish was not quite as fluent, though, but it is getting there.
Her next letter showed 1 misunderstanding, but it was not a big deal. Maybe you will pick up on it.
“You would have liked my granny, as she is an old one also, like yours, so she can not drive and we are trying to visit her as often as we can..and really sad to hear that your mom and granny do not talk, they are the nearest and the most close people, I think that your mother should forgive her, as your granny is given her a life...and may be I do not know and do not advise them, but this is better, as your granny also is so old.”
“My granny died 20 years ago. My mom and her sister do not talk, and the feud is beyond any apology at this stage.”
I sent Easter greetings to many women, sometimes even twice. This rather rough customer from Voronezh picked up on it. “What's that? You decided to send mails you sent before one more time?” She was obviously all sweetness and light and very forgiving.
I have told a few correspondents that my next-door neighbor has a big black cat that spends most of its time in my yard, drinking from my hose and nibbling at my mom’s herb garden. ‘We call the cat ‘Behemoth’,” I wrote, “although its real name is ‘Cinderella’.” A 29 year old lady who lived in Detroit, of all places -- she had won the visa lottery and had decided to go to the US, despite her better sagacity -- wrote, “Happy Easter, Dawk! God bless you and Behemoth! What will the 2 of you eat?” She was an extraordinary woman, but she could not seem to understand that the cat would not be dining with my mom and me.
I thanked her and told her that I really admired her, a foreigner who was in the US legally and had started a successful business, a trucking company. Her answer shocked me:
“I had so many injuries, but to my happiness, I quickly
rehabilitated. I have already met the men who threatened to break my
hands ... and one lost 3 fingers, other became crazy ... sad stories.
I empathized with her and added, “You seem to be a real ailurophile. You care more for that darn feline than you do for me.” “Yes,” she admitted, “but I will learn to love you in time, I hope.” Easter brings out the honesty in people.
Easter or not, my success rate with women is a little less than 100%. Occasionally even my correspondence slows down, as I when I asked Marina 27, from Petrozavodsk, “You used to write letters daily. Now, I have not heard from you in a week. Why did you suddenly lose interest in me?” “Suddenly?” was her only answer. At least she was succinct.
Over the years I have discussed diverse topics with my pen pals. We have discoursed on weather:
“About weather.. YES... of course I like warm weather.. sometimes I say to my mum.. mum I was born not in the right place.. I like so much when it is warm.. and here in Belarus It's more cold days in the year than warm... now it is about+7.. of course in compare that about 4 weeks ago it was -15... of course now it is very warm... but I want at least +25 J ” All I could say to her was, “Come here, my friend Svetlana from Vitebsk. I will keep you warm.” I meant it, too.
I started to include a daily temperature report in my letters to Natalia from Astana, another weather bug. “We are 20 C. today, but the last 3 weeks were 27-30 in the day, so 20 feels cold. REALLY! That statement sounds strange because, to you, 20 in beginning of April would seem so warm that you probably would take off your shirt... :)
Her reply was terse: “I will disappoint you - I didn't take it off:) but it's about +5 here :) so i have a chance to try later:)" My lightning-fast response, typed with trembling fingers, was: “I would like to be there when you do.”
We discussed literature. I trust that you have a read a book or two.
“Hope my letter will not find you lying somewhere with a bloody
heart and a false knife lying close to you:) you are not Copperfield, I
Sex was high on our list, of course. Why would it not be?
“Go on teasing me! J ”
I was not the only one to do the teasing. This future model from Kiev did a number on me that I will not soon forget.
I agreed with every point in her seductive letter. Her missive really whetted my appetite. She then blocked me.
My mom’s name came up a few times, which made for an interesting juxtaposition with the previous topic.
“Your Mom looks great! my complement to her! Did you get my picture in a previous letter?” “Yes, thanks. You look much better than my mom.”
She was dubious of my claim. “At that photo your mother took all my
attention:) she's really so nice! She's so noble and elegant!
“If you like my mom so much, then come here and marry her. I will be happy just to be able to feel you up once in a while, probably when my mom is asleep.”
Age was an issue, and always will be, throughout eternity, I fear. What can I do, though?
“I do not need luck,” I told her. “I need a time machine to reverse the aging process.” She understood.
Animals came up once or twice. This time, I do not mean the inhabitants of the US:
“We went to the Volga River for a swim. The river is very polluted. People are so stupid. I got a bad sunburn and am red as a lobster. What should I do?”
“Find a single male crustacean,” I advised, “and make sure that you do not drink from the Volga.”
Geography was something that we tried to pinpoint. Have your atlas handy. You will need it.
“Dawk, I am from Kamchatka, yes, but do I really look like a chukchi to you?” “I do not think so,” I confessed, “but I have never seen such a person -- unless you mean an Eskimo.”
Family history made for some interesting dialogue. I should have been an orphan.
“Yesterday was St. Thomas Sunday. In the morning we visited cemetery with parents, but this day wasn't sad, it was of blessed memory of all people who gone away...We had family dinner and talked much about our ancestors. Do you have any family legends you like to retell your friends?”
She was curious, so I told her that “My grandpa worked in a mustard factory. He came to the US at age 22 or so from Calabria, Italy, and worked at the same job for 45 years. He became the supervisor in charge of the packaging of the mustard. He never used mustard at home, even on hot dogs! He preferred mayonnaise, which made him a bit of a traitor, and explains why he did not get promoted for almost 42 years.
“When he came home from work, his white shirt was yellow from all of the mustard seeds in the vats. I laugh about it, but my grandma did not have a fancy washing machine in those days and to remove the stains must have been difficult. Besides, the detergents are much stronger now, if you believe the television commercials. What type of laundry soap does your family use? Oh, that is neither here nor there, I guess. We will find 1 that suits both of us. Compromise is the heart of a successful relationship, I always say, or do I say that cleanliness is next go Godliness?” Her answer was “The best advice for a happy marriage is not to get your clothes dirty! You are the psychologist and writer, not the surgeon, so you will come home clean.” “True, but I have a dirty mind.”
Occupations took up some of our time. This letter was from Ira Bagelman, who commented earlier on the reality of my hair.
“I was born in Odessa, my parents live till now there. There I have left school and then culture academy. My specialty the director and the actress. After the termination of academy. I have arrived to Kiev. I live in Kiev three years; here I have finished a magistracy of national university of arts and have received the second trade – the TV presenter. In 2009 I have developed idea of own program and now I the author and the leader of the program about antiques and collecting subjects. It contains reports from galleries and auctions of Kiev, interview to representatives of antiquarian business, critics, experts. You understand me? :)))
Well, now I need to run - I go on television channel on a meeting with
Then tonight I go on presentation of a new exhibition of the modern art
which organizers will take part in my following program.
I sorted through that letter like a miner sifting through anthracite. My answer was more concise than hers: “I just have 1 question: how much of that braggadocio is true?”
My favorite subject, next to myself, was my satires. They are close to my heart.
The most memorable line in any of your works is definitely, ‘I saw a Nikitina, who obviously loves to smoke, a Mochalova, who is a coffee freak, and a Kokalova, who is a cokehead. I am still waiting for a Sexalova’. I love it!” “I guess that you are not a virgin,” was my quip.
Our political exchanges were especially illuminating. “I live in Simferopol. My dad is in the navy.” “What rank does he have in the Ukrainian navy?” I asked. “He is not in the Ukrainan navy; he is in the RUSSIAN navy! Crimea and Black Sea belong to Russia, and always will. The Ukrainians are not capable of defending themselves, but they are a good little people.” “What are they, midgets?”
My old friend Daria from Donetsk stayed current. “Today was a day of mourning for Polish politics--the elite people who died in the airplane accident.
I can't stand the tears when I hear about the tragedy which took place on Saturday...I suppose that the Polish air accident is all over the TV news! Wasn't that terrible! Will that change the way the Polish government is run now?” “No, but it may alter the way that Poland gives out pilot’s licenses.”
Later, from her, I got this message, “I appreciate that you have 2 beautiful and young girls as a friends but possibly if we get married one day I will have to kill them both (it is a joke) ha-ha!” I laughed so hard that I deleted her email address from my address book.
More than 1 lady has asked, “What is having a black President like?” I lay it on the line: “The US has a dark future.”
Svetlana from Moscow knew the US propaganda forwards and backwards: “In your country, anyone can start a business and become rich.” “Yes,” I admitted, “our economy is better than yours, but your people are far superior to ours, and that should count for something in this spherical, perverted world of ours.”
“You have more millionaires than any other country,” she stated accurately. “Most of them got that way by winning a lottery or selling drugs,” I told her. “The US, by and large, is a nation of people who call in sick on Monday after a hard weekend of drinking, overeating, and watching television.”
Laws were analyzed. I will simplify the terms for you, as you obviously are a layman.: Nina expressed the most popular topic in this area when she asked: “If we get married, then how long do I have to wait until I become a US citizen?” “After all I have told you, you still want to come here? Okay, if we are married for 3 years and you are not killed first on your way to the market -- the US is a very violent country and I am a plutocrat, so my family, my friends, and I are easy targets for Obama’s constituents -- then you will be a US citizen! Wow! You will then be able to compare Obama to Josef Stalin and see why the latter is a relative folk hero and a real saint.”
I will leave you with an example of success. Perhaps you will be inspired by it, but at this point, I take nothing for granted.
I sent many letters to Gina-farina, late of Kiev, but she was unswayed by my efforts. “I hate your lousy form letters,” were her exact words. “Mine are really different,” I protested. “How?” “I did not use a ghost writer; I filled in the blanks myself,” I told her proudly. Still, she saw through my bluster and decided to travel to the US. She is presently in San Jose, California, not far from the liberal wasteland known as San Francisco. In a few weeks she will be in LA, 400 kilometers to the south of San Jose, as my guest; I cannot tell you the exact date because the banana boat that I rented for her is rather difficult to row, especially during riptide.
Over the years, my stories have helped me to create a name for myself. I
really have built quite a reputation, too; unfortunately, it is not a
very good one. If you did not like this satire, then you probably are
not alone; still, remember the words of Elmira: “Sorry for
As I compiled this narrative, the words of my friend’s father ran through my head. His son was in a car accident a week ago Tuesday, and when I asked him how the kid was doing, he replied, “His arms ‘n’ legs are badly broken, but he’s not hurt.” Maybe you think the same way after reading this story. I certainly hope so.
Some of the quotes here came from my private email and others came from my inbox at EM. Your job was to tell which was which. How did you fare? That badly, huh?
You probably are wondering what I did to elicit such amusing responses. The answer is, in a word, nothing!
You should walk away from this treatise thinking that my foremost contribution to humanity and the field of literature was my use of italics to indicate when a Slavic woman was speaking and normal characters to show when I was making a comment. I very easily could have reversed that formula or even have used bold type, but what would that have done to your old equilibrium?
Do you realize, now that the end is near, that I have not found my 2nd half in 8 years? Gee, when you put it THAT way, it seems like a long time. The days pass quickly, though, when you are having fun, but sooner or later, I must either fish or cut bait. Hey! I do not even have a rod or reel yet.
I consider all of the women on EM to be my friends, and I have some great buddies now, but love eludes me, as I just said. Take a look at my photos and you will understand why.
No, the pictures are not the problem. I am a perfectionist, and I always seem to find 1 little quirk that a woman has, such as wanting to have a nice home and a loving family or desiring to have a child or yearning to be treated with respect and dignity or something else of a VILE nature; I then have difficulty overlooking it and I inevitably end the relationship before plans are made to meet. That peccadillo of mine does not explain the 99% of the ladies who fail to reply to my introductory letter, though. Hmm. Maybe the picture is at fault after all.
The initial letter is the icebreaker and speaks volumes about the man. I cannot guarantee that my first letter is perfect, but to all intents and purposes, we certainly can agree that it is nonpareil and a thing of beauty, a sight to behold; thus, that missive is not the cause of my misery. YOURS, however, is not in my league, so it quite likely is the bane of your existence. I am sorry, but I just could not sugarcoat the matter. Stop sulking and listen up!
If you want to increase your odds of getting a response, and a FAVORABLE one at that, then I urge you to use the best photo that you can find; use dark lighting, if necessary, wear a hat, if you can find one, or 'borrow' somebody else's face and body, but only temporarily. No! No! No! Deception is not the better part of valor; Slavic women do not deserve to be fooled. They are wise and honest, and they will catch on in the long run. Save your games and tricks for the US women, although you can keep a few in reserve in the event that you stumble upon a Canadian or Australian chick in your travels.
Since I began my odyssey on EM, the women have changed. They are slightly more attractive these days, but they were a little more make-up, too. They are a tad less sincere, too, than they were a few years ago; with each day that their profile is on EM, they become less interested in finding Mr. RIGHT and more concerned with how many responses they are getting. A bruised ego can be a terrible affliction.
Today's woman on EM realizes that she is a hot commodity. She knows what her value is on the open market. She knows that she outclasses most of the men in her own country, and hence, the world. What chance does a guy like YOU have with such a babe? Get a calculator and do the math.
What do you have to offer such a lady? I was hoping that you would get around to that issue. Now I can really speak straight from the shoulder. First, you must ask yourself what talents you possess. Think long and hard about it. I have time.
Second, you must be patient. You will have to sift through many ladies and send many letters before you find the right one. More often than not, you will THINK that you have found your dream woman, but she gives you the air. So be it. You cannot change fate, but you can always get a nose job.
When you spot a woman whose profile interests you, write the best message that you can, keeping the hyperbole and unsubstantiated claims, such as "I would be the boss of my company, but everybody has it in for me since my drunk driving arrest, my embezzlement conviction, my run-in regarding the falsification of my time-card, and so on" to a minimum. Send a nice, non-threatening, non-risque photo -- if you cannot find a shirt, grab a towel; if you cannot locate your pants, then go to a different website.
Today's woman on EM is intelligent and cynical, worldly in every sense of the word. You cannot make wild promises and expect to entice her. I, however, am different: if you were to build a website that is a virtual Hall of Fame for people who have a myriad of accomplishments on the Internet, such as writing satires, and you inducted me as the charter member, then I would begin to see you in a better light. A generous stipend would go even further in softening my impression of you.
To repeat, the average woman on EM today is a saint, and she wants to read something that will stimulate her mind. She does not care for obsequious men who write twaddle and overdo the flattery. She wants to learn about the real you, but she does not want your autobiography. I would avoid insulting her in any way, but that just may be another one of my eccentricities.
I am selective in my correspondence: I pick only exceptional women to start a relationship with, as I have made clear herein; you would have to be blind as a bat not to have grasped it. Wait! Are those dark glasses on your face and a white cane in your hands?
Therefore, the letters that I cited are not exactly run-of-the-mill. You would expect a witty response occasionally, and a sarcastic reply now and then, too, but not in every letter. Similarly, anger and rudeness are qualities that I almost never have encountered from the women. Most of all, sincerity is the norm, and humility, caring, and curiosity, too. The women seem to be serious and yet playful; would that I lived in Russia, Belarus, or Ukraine, for I would have a field day every time I went to the grocery store. Oh, if only I liked snow! Toss me a parka and I will see if I can get used to it. Ah, a rather cumbersome garment it is; alas, my dreams are shattered.
Now that I am finished, just think: I only went back to the letters from March 1, 2010. I have several more years’ worth of letters to rummage through. Can you spell s-e-q-u-e-l?
(Note: The onion photos were for illustrative purposes only and were not meant to depict actual onions or persons. The knife was from my vast collection. Come a little closer so that you can feel how sharp it is.)
Dr. Dawk Ziti is as popular in the US as Jonathan Swift and Miguel de Cervantes were in their countries in their salad days. Nevertheless, the distinguished Dr. Ziti, man of letters, cannot be contacted. He is too far gone.
Elena's Models is regarded as a premier dating agency for Russian and European girls seeking love, romance and marriage with Western men. Elena's Models is in business since 1999 and had been responsible for hundreds of marriages between men from the U.S.A., UK, Canada, Europe, Australia and New Zealand and women from Russia, Ukraine, Belarus and other countries of Eastern Europe (some people are just luckier than others...) Having said that, if you are curious about Russian brides or what the hell all the talks are about, feel free to join Elena's Models and check for yourself!
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