This is an extract from my upcoming “pickup journey” memoirs. This particular one is in one of the first chapters. Feel free to leave a comment, both about the content and the quality of the writing.
[…] As I said, me and Sophie had swapped contacts when we had met in Tallinn. For some circumstance which I precisely don’t remember (maybe I had lost her contact, or she had changed her phone and lost mine) we hadn’t been able to stay in touch. However, when one night I went to drink in a bar near Nevsky Prospect, suddenly I bumped into her. She seemed genuinely pleased to see me, and introduced me to her friends, a Belgian guy and a Spanish girl, both, like Sophie, exchange students in Saint Petersburg. We spent the night drinking then parted ways promising to hang out together soon.
Few days later I met again Sophie and her friends for lunch. Her Spanish friend, Helen, was a 25 years old girl from Madrid with long black hair and a curvy body. She was pretty for Spanish standards, but I suspected that in that Russian environment, surrounded by a level of beauty way beyond anything existing in her country, her ego was suffering ferocious strokes on daily basis. Assisted by the fact that I spoke fluent Spanish, she soon started flirting with me. I didn’t discourage her because I didn’t disdain her company, and one afternoon we went together to a museum, but nothing happened between us. She was nice though, and my mind was starting to find the idea of having a Mediterranean lover in Russia acceptable (these Russian women, so beautiful but cold. This Spanish girl, not so beautiful but warm and sweet.) Then, one night, she and Sophie invited me to join them at a student party in a discotheque in some suburban area of the city. I agreed to go and it looked so much that that would be the night me and Sophie would go home together (or something like that.) How different the things were about to be.
At the meeting point Helen, Sophie, the Belgian guy and another exchange student from Germany, were waiting for me. While walking to the club, me and Helen began talking, following the group but remaining two steps back, isolating ourselves, flirting and joking. Then we arrived at the venue and entered.
The club had a big dancefloor in the middle, and a side path with sofas. It was a week day and the place was half empty. Sophie and her friends had to meet there some people from their university, all Russian. They were already there: a couple, a girl from Uzbekistan, another couple, and then a tall, slim brunette with long legs and generous breast. Sophie introduced me to her. Her name was Julia, and she welcomed me with a big warm smile and a cheerful vibe. We had a brief chat: where are you from, what are you doing in Russia and so on. Within a couple of minutes, I had completely forgotten Helen.
When I joined the group for a shot of vodka at the bar, Helen came close and tried to talk to me. Her vibe had already gone down, she obviously had noticed the interaction between me and Julia. My feelings had a hint of guilt, but then I thought: how many times girls have done the same to me? Flirting, giving me the illusion something was going to happen, and then suddenly changing their mind for some trivial reason or because their attention was caught by something (or someone) else. I decided that this time, as a simple fact, would be Helen’s turn to be let down.
I walked back towards the dancefloor and bumped into Julia, who was searching for the rest of the group after exiting the bathroom. I placed a hand firmly on her hip and spoked in her ear. She accepted my touching. I told her we had already done a round of vodka and she had missed it, but I would happily buy one for her. She agreed. We went to the bar, drank, then went to sit on a sofa.
Julia was 22, studied at the same university of Sophie and Helen, and had a part time job as a secretary in an office. She had relocated to Saint Petersburg few years before, from Volgograd, a mid-size city in the south west of the country not far from Georgia. She spoke good English because had lived for three months in the States during a working abroad program. The conversation flowed pleasantly, and I could say that, for some reason, she liked me a lot. Half an hour later the group decided to move to another venue.
While walking to the new bar, me and Julia grew proximity and now she was holding my arm. The flirting had become overt and I started giving her some playful kisses on the cheek and on the neck. The Russian couple (a boy and a girl; I noticed the boy was holding the girl’s purse…) were walking next to us and threw friendly remarks. The guy complimented my seduction skills too (“Italians… are the best”). However, something annoying was going on. The German guy, the other exchange student who was part of the group and to whom I was introduced at the beginning of the night, instead of keeping the same pace of the rest of the guys, was walking next to us and behaved weird, trying a couple of times to insert himself in the conversation between me and Julia. My assumption was that there had been a previous, perhaps flirty, interaction between him and her, as they already knew each other from the University courses. Since his vibe was slightly aggressive, I came to the conclusion that in his vision I was stealing Julia from him. I couldn’t care less and kept her close to me. We arrived at the bar.
The other guys joined us. We were all more than tipsy. Helen had disappeared. More vodka shots, and then we moved to the dancefloor. The place was crowded and the music loud. While dancing, I started to make out with Julia. She was now totally into it. After few minutes, I had to go the bathroom and left her alone. Then, when I came back, I saw the following scene: the German guy had taken Julia and was dancing with her. He was not only dancing, but was grinding on her and trying to kiss her. Julia was too drunk to push him away. I had never been an aggressive man, and never really liked the competition among men for a girl (my idea was that if a girl likes a man, she shouldn’t allow another guy to pursue her), but this was too much. I had put a big amount of effort and energy for three consecutive hours in order to get that girl. And this dude popped out as if nothing had happened, thinking he could steal her from me in such an unsophisticated way, taking advantage of the fact that she was now drunk. He was tall but skinny: I estimated I was stronger than him, and surely more mentally resolute. Without thinking twice, I stepped on the dancefloor and hit the guy banging hard my shoulder on his. He swayed on the side and let go the grip from Julia. I firmly took back possession of her, and the dude didn’t try anything to get her back. Defeated, retreated and disappeared in the shadow.
That night I walked Julia home, and when we arrived in front of her door I tried to sneak in with the excuse I had to pee. She didn’t bite the bait, but while kissing me goodbye she told me we would meet again for sure in a couple of days. […]