u/Nadineauthor

Once upon a time, there was a priest at the OCA. His name was Fr. George. He was old, had hollow sunken eyes from sheer exhaustion (from dealing with Babushki) and was stubbornly strict. He believed fiercely, deeply, in the Orthodox Church being the true church. Other denominations were too "modern", too "heterodox." He had his own talks and sermons about the Truth of the orthodox faith and all of the strict fasting rules everyone must follow. He had a beard and grovelled around, muttering to himself.

But not only that. He had a Matushka Gretchen. She was the most formidable. If Fr. George was strict, Matushka Gretchen was formidable. She was the scariest person in the whole diocese. Fr. George always had to run his sermons by HER first. She would snap at visitors, keep everyone in line, and do the announcements at the end and address the people. She was a little old lady nobody dared cross.

Their granddaughter was Regina George. She was an adult, around 24 years old. She was blonde, glamorous, sassy, and exclusive. She learned from her beloved grandparents how to rule and exclude others.

When Fr. George, tired and sunken, did his sermons and tried his best to do the liturgy, his own granddaughter stood there, guarding the nave.

"On Sundays we wear headscarves."

She herself was wearing her most expensive, flawless silk Chanel headscarf. But she had to say that because a new girl was coming in, and she wasn't wearing a headscarf. Did anyone else care? No. Fr. George sure didn't require it. Nobody cared. Except Regina.

"Oh, um, there's a lot of babushki, can I stand with you?"

Regina scoffed, but then put on a smile. "Oh, I love how bare your hair is. It's so...rooted." She snickered to herself.

The girl was nervous. "Oh. Do we have to wear headscarves?"

Regina smiled and gave her an ugly one from the narthex - on purpose. "Yes. We are required to. Otherwise it's a sin."

The girl nervously put it on, vibrating with anxiety, while Regina smiled smugly through the service.

Matushka Gretchen was ordering the people around during coffee hour. Fr. George was being hounded by babushki again.

A Protestant inquirer tried to ask Fr. George some questions. Fr George replied, "You can't sit with us."

Regina's best friend nodded in approval at the poor inquirer. "Your suit though. It's so ... fetch."

"Thanks," the guy stuttered.

To be continued...

Hey guys.

This is a bit heavier than my posts before, but I really need your thoughts.

So basically, I feel that as a lesbian Orthodox Christian, I have an identity that is marked by contradiction.

The official Orthodox teaching is firm that homosexual relations are a sin.

In my experience, because I grew up in the parish and look like a cute teen girl and go with my mom, everyone just is kind and lets me be. If I say I'm lesbian, the clergy and the people just chuckle and are like, "Oh, kids these days."

So it's hard to say I've even been treated badly at all. Most of the time people just see me as a little girl who's still figuring things out. They even tell me "Oh, don't talk to that guy" (this was my longtime guy friend who was also trying to find himself, but they saw him as sus because he was a modern dude. I had just mentioned him in passing.)

When I told the priest I was lesbian, he just quietly said "Ok." Didn't challenge it. Didn't tell me it was sinful. Just left it alone.

I told a few parishioners and they said, "Okay." Nothing. Just let it be.

It's pretty uncanny to be honest. No pushback. No lecturing. But no smiles or warm acceptance either with it.

Basically though a mom there talks to my mom and the priest meets with mom and like...well, bruh. Idk. I'm 23 years old, but a kid once told me, "You're in 5th grade? The Sunday school for big kids is over there!"

So anyway. When I say I want to have kids as a single mom by choice, people just nod and are like, "That's cute."

But bruh. I'm a lesbian....and I can't even say they're homophobic because they gave me nothing to work with. But the official doctrine says that they don't approve of my orientation.

But the church lady, when I talked on the phone with her and said I wanted kids, she just said, "Oh honey, not yet."

So...

But anyway, thinking about the overall doctrine, I wonder what'll happen when I do, inevitably, become a single mom by choice (which I've been telling them for the past 3 years bruh, and they've just thought it's cute).

As far as dating, I don't really want to date girls, but I'm attracted to girls. It's not that I care much about dating one - it's that I care about the way I'm perceived. I worry that one day I will try to talk to someone Orthodox and they will be nice to my face but think to themselves "Oh, she's lesbian, I'll pray for her because that's sinful."

Like, bruh. I did NOT choose my sexuality. I dated 20 guys and not once have I felt attracted to any. Meanwhile I daydream about girls. I first discovered I was lesbian when I was 11 years old before the concept even existed in my head.

Then, the Orthodox Church claims to have a monopoly on faith. They claim that you need the church's sacraments, the priest's blessing, everything, that they're the True Faith. But by my real lived experience, I find that it actually serves as a supplement, but God never is conditional on my experience in the church. I can literally not go to church or just church hop, and it really has little to do with God Himself. The experiences I have are so amazing and beautiful, and yet the Orthodox Church invalidates them. My dad has similar experiences and been Orthodox, but they are trans.

So basically, sorry for the long-ass rant being too long, but what do you guys think...I want it to be nice and constructive not mean because I've been pretty run down by mean comments online and I am sensitive and young so I want some kind words...but also I want to hear your experiences in the Orthodox Church and how it compares to mine.

Hey ladies

I'm looking for lady friends, I'm 23F and I really want female connection. Hugs, makeup, the like. Things that as girls only we know about.

Anyone out there who's like, maybe in early 20s?

The reality of not getting a job is simply this: It's the company. Not you. It has nothing to do with your qualifications and everything to do with the company that posted the job.

The companies that reject qualified candidates are almost always hiding internal rot and are places you wouldn't want to work at anyway.

For example, I applied to AlphaSights associate position but got rejected - only to later land a place at AlphaSense. AlphaSights is a low quality place that clients have actually complained about and is losing money, and AlphaSense is legitimate and high quality and fully functional.

I also applied to Lydian Academy as a teacher and am fully qualified, but they rejected me as well. It turned out that they are stressing over their profit margins as families stop paying for discretionary private school tuition.

If you've been rejected even from Burger King or the mailbox - that doesn't mean you're not good enough. It means that something on their end is completely screwed up.

Real companies are cooperative, not defensive. They actually want to help others. Toxic companies usually are hiding debt, a broken system, or customer complaints and they try to inflate their value by gatekeeping and rejecting people, when in reality they aren't as good as they claim to be.

Real companies rarely post on Indeed. Remember, Indeed is now pay-per-click, meaning the companies that post on there are in a terrified mindset because they lose money for every applicant and are pinching costs. Real companies always hire through referrals, which you can get by joining chapters and organisations that are collaborative, not gate kept.

I even researched into different companies that I tried to partner with and why they rejected me. It turns out that all of these companies in question who are overly gate kept ended up being ones losing tons of money, in the red, have been sued, or are overly paranoid and nonfunctional.

So, next time you get rejected, don't think that it was because of you. It was because that company didn't know what to do with you.

My take on how performative these annoying Orthodox women on social media are. Grab popcorn and enjoy! LOL.

Back in the old days, people used to work hard and make gorgeous paintings filled with meaning. The artist would literally obsess over every minute detail, getting the emotions right, and pouring their soul into it.

Now, on instagram and Pinterest, it seems that a lot of the art on there is AI generated. People try to post a bunch of artwork but it is all fully AI generated. You can literally see that everything is uncannily smooth instead of any brush strokes or detail in there. There's always uncanny details like things melting into each other.

No matter how far AI gets or how hard they try to train it, there's a built-in vulnerability that it'll never actually make good art, let alone even get the limbs and the shadows and lighting correct.

Tell me: Have you guys noticed and been bothered by more AI art popping into your feeds?

I went to go see my guru, Guru Bao.

The Guru was round. He was sitting on the carpet. Just completely round. Like an oblong or a piece of French bread.

He ate his usual food. Tuna and stuff. Loved it.

He sat next to me. Now, he has a serene expression. He is deep in meditation. His face is like an 8-ball.

I think I've gotten better at handling him though, like, better at taking care of him. Otherwise he might bite. Are you guys also gentle to your Gurus? I had to brush him. I think July is shedding season.

I feel really impressed by his size. He's gotten larger as he's gotten older.

It was a glamorous night at the gala for St. Seraphim’s Cathedral, ROCOR. Helga was applying her brightest, gawkiest red lipstick. She puckered her lips in the mirror, making awful kissing noises. Caleb was there, huddled in the corner in fear. 

Her fingernails were painted a bright, neon, shining red. Her hoop earrings jiggled and clanked together, making her old earlobes droop. Her eyes were heavy with overdone smoky eye makeup. She smoothed her wrinkles with some cream. Caleb nearly choked as she walked, with a stately demeanour, in her rumpled, overly tight red dress that showed her glaring belly fat.

“Come now, my stallion,” she said, grabbing Caleb by the arm. “The gala is now.”

Caleb looked at himself - he was dressed in jeans and a polo. “I - I can’t come with you - I’m not dressed…”

“It does not matter,” she snapped. “Put on a tie and we’ll get going.”

“I’m wearing a polo shirt…it doesn’t have a tie…”

Helga threw a tie at him. “There. Figure out what to do with it.”

She continued walking, her head held high. Caleb sulked behind her, not following. She turned around and seized him by the arm. Then she shoved him into her car with her big muscles.

As she drove, Caleb smelled her old lady perfume lingering in the air. He cracked open the window so he could breathe. 

Helga drawled, “My mango, please keep the windows shut.” Caleb reluctantly drew up the window.

Helga’s big 2004 Toyota pulled up in the church parking lot. The same gold dome that had captivated Caleb before now felt like a curse. The car honked, Helga grabbed her keys, and slammed the door. 

“We are here, my stallion,” she breathed. “The most elegant night of the ball. The Night of the Stars.”

Caleb winced as her old lady breath was near him.

But then,  some beautiful fair maidens were walking in. They were young Russian ladies, wearing stunning, glittering gold gowns. Their white, snowy shoulders glowed in the light, and their hair tumbled down their backs. When they turned around, their eyes were light and joyful. Anastasia was among them, but there were two other devuyshki that appeared near her. 

Caleb salivated. This might not have been so bad after all. Maybe, when Helga became distracted, he could shoot his shot with them. His heart leapt with joy.

Helga saw him glance over at the girls. She seized him with her iron grip. “You must only have eyes for me,” she purred. “I am the mature one. Those little girls? Look. They have their silly boyfriends. They are not worthy of you. You are worthy of a real woman. Me.”

Caleb gulped. In front of him, each of the maidens had been paired off with their own handsome partners. The charming young men, all with shiny combed hair, dressed to the nines in tuxedos, placed their hands on the girls’ shoulders with pride, escorting them courteously to the ballroom. Caleb looked at his own polo shirt and gulped again.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered. 

He tried to get in line after the couples, but Helga pushed him aside. “Bad manners, my stallion. We must be here at the back of the line.”

“I - um -”

“If you had been quicker, we would have been before everyone else. But, my gallant knight, you decided to stall. We are going to wait over here.”

She pulled him back to the very end of the very long line. In front of them was an elderly man, the cathedral warden. He was cranky and disheveled as always, but even he had a grey suit. He looked on with arrogance. Caleb felt small behind him.

Finally, after what seemed like eons, another cranky old man who actually bothered to wear a green suit scowled at Caleb, scanned their tickets, and let him and Helga into the ball. 

Caleb awkwardly followed Helga as she bulldozed her ways past the crowd. Caleb winced as he nearly bumped into a bunch of people. Helga did not care. She just shoved them out of her way and slammed her big purse on a table. 

“That’s not good manners,” Caleb started to say.

“That’s rich coming from someone who’s wearing a polo shirt and a crooked tie,” she snorted. She sat down, smoothing her overly tight dress. 

A clueless young guy in a tuxedo was walking around alone and walked past them. She spotted him and tapped her glass with a fork. “Waiter!”

The guy swivelled around. “Yeah, what do you want?”

“Get me and my stallion some water, pickles dipped in olive oil, and aged blue cheese.”
The guy was scared. “Right away, miss.”

Helga nudged Caleb with her elbow. “See? Even that intern is better dressed than you.”

“I’m sorry,” Caleb mumbled.

Meanwhile, classical music was playing. The fair maidens in their gowns were dancing smoothly across the floor with their charming princes. The men picked them up, twirled them around, kissed them. Caleb felt very jealous as he watched. The devuyshki had the sweetest, most feminine faces with eyes glowing in the light. The three girls all danced together, holding hands in a circle, giggling sweetly and smiling like angels. Their boyfriends watched in awe, then spun them around.

Caleb watched. He opened his mouth, but his throat was dry. 

“Don’t worry, my stallion, water is coming,” Helga reassured him.

He watched the maidens dance, but Helga gripped his jaw and tilted his face towards her. “Let us focus on our time together. Do not mind the children in their playground. Our stately meal is arriving soon.”

Caleb gulped. The sweaty tuxedo guy came out with the ancient cheese, the water, and the pickles. “For - for you, ma’am and - sir,” he stuttered. Then he fled. As Caleb watched, even the waiter already had a cute teenage girl to dance with. 

“Perfect,” Helga purred. She sipped the water heartily. Caleb looked at it, unsure of whether to drink it. “It’s good for your cough,” she said. “Go ahead. Drink it.”

Caleb drank it. It was lukewarm. He felt like spitting it out, but he couldn’t. Helga was watching. She began peeling some dill pickles for him. “Here you go, swallow.”

Caleb tried to speak. “I don’t like pickles.”

Helga laughed. “Too bad. I already cut them for you. Just a little at a time.” She spoon fed them into his mouth. He couldn’t spit them out. He was forced to swallow. They tasted sour and awful.

“Now, for the cheese,” Helga said. The cheese smelled terrible and had flies around it. Helga slathered it on her cracker and made a big crunching noise. Caleb looked but couldn’t eat it.

“I’ll help you,” she said. She slathered a huge chunk of cheese on an old cracker and popped it into his mouth. He had no choice but to swallow that. It tasted like wet socks.

To be continued....

Hey folks.

I (23F) went to church again today in San Francisco- turns out, the GOARCH is witnessing a massive influx of young adult converts.

They come to the church because they think it's SO cool. There's been this cringe trend going on where everybody is looking at the algorithm and seeing that all of this Orthodox memes and it's so cool, and dark academia, and whatever crap. Plus, their lives as techies feel hollow. So they go to the Orthodox Church, thinking it's cool and an aesthetic backdrop to their sad, concrete, steel lives.

I have been at said church for 8 years. I know everyone there - the aunties, the moms, the little kids. They, however, joined just a year ago or this year, more recently.

When sitting at the young adults' table, it felt like a rendition of Mean Girls. They were all pathetically huddled around each other rubbing shoulders at the table in a circle. They were name dropping places like "Green Street" "Sunset District", etc. Bruh! I said, "Oh Green street, that's where the OCA church is!" and they had no clue. Well, if they name drop it, why can't they know that? I said, "You live in the Sunset District? You're right next door!" and then they said it was a 15 minute drive.

The true comedy was when there was a new Orthobro who just joined. He was proud of being a Google researcher. I asked him how his reports are sold, he says they aren't. I asked if he helps develop patents, he doesn't. I ask how he even made money, he says he doesn't know. Meanwhile, for context, I'm over here as an actual publisher and business owner at a research company - and he's just an employee.

But the peak was when the young adults started laughing AT me. Like, they were giggling AT me and making fun OF me when I ask those questions. They were SO insecure.

They even dropped cringe slang like "wasian" and stuff. Complete internet brain rot.

Meanwhile, all of the people who have been there forever were good, and glad to see me again.

Did the young adults go there to find God? Did they come and help clean the dishes? NO! We're all just merely a wallpaper background in their main character era.

Hah! They're probably going to leave anyway.

A bunion. A babe.

A story of old women -

Who are too cheerful for their own good.

And their prodigious,

Monumental,

Monuments to former glory.

It all starts when Josephine moves to Sea Ranch

And sees the Bunion Babes.

They're there.

They're old.

They say it's the way it's always been done.

Josephine has to care for these old women.

No escape.

No choice.

Just bunions...

And orthopaedic shoes

And the sound of pots clanking.

This is Josephine's life now.

One day, Gladys bakes a pie.

It's horrible.

It's crusty.

Its ingredients are made of brands

That went out of business decades ago.

Gladys puts it on the table.

"This is the way it's always been done."

Josephine knows. Swallows.

They told Josephine it's wine time.

It's Girls' Night.

Josephine just accepts it at this point.

Each Bunion Babe spits

Into a single glass of wine.

The wine is warm.

The spit is warm.

They look at Josephine with expectation.

They say to Josephine,

"Come on now, swallow. This is the way it's always been done."

Josephine swallows.

https://preview.redd.it/ocio9sc33jdh1.jpg?width=3024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=b9d996185780bc4fa8226b2730e7ebe884e7a301

:3 what is my age

Hey I'm wondering about what other folks my age do. I'm 23F.

How do you find information when you need to figure out something?

Do you search Google? Use ChatGPT or Gemini? Actually look at EBESCO or JSTOR for any actual articles?

How often do you click on external links, like the blue links on Google that appear under the AI summaries?

If you use the AI how many messages do you send it per day?

Just curious what other folks my age do.

Hey I'm wondering about what other folks my age do. I'm 23F.

How do you find information when you need to figure out something?

Do you search Google? Use ChatGPT or Gemini? Actually look at EBESCO or JSTOR for any actual articles?

How often do you click on external links, like the blue links on Google that appear under the AI summaries?

If you use the AI how many messages do you send it per day?

Just curious what other folks my age do.

Caleb went again to Helga’s house. It was partly because he was forced to fix the lighting in Helga’s house and he shuddered to think of what would happen if he didn’t go. But it was mainly because he had hopes. He did see Anastasia, after all. Maybe - maybe this time, he could get Helga to introduce him as her provider and protector.

Once he arrived, Helga threw open the door. The wind blew his face. He winced. 
“My golden mango,” she purred, leading him into the kitchen. “Sit. Eat. The food is ready. Your woman knows how to cook a mean steak.”

He looked at the steak, which was very, very well-done and overcooked. He tried to eat it, but charcoal kept flaking off the edges. Helga watched him with pride and put her large, wedge shaped gnarly feet on the table.

Caleb watched with terror. Finally, he said, “It’s not good manners to put your feet up on the table.”

Helga flicked her toes at him, with their yellow fibrous nails, and laughed. “Oh, Caleb. When you have arthritis next year, you’ll know how it feels.”

“I’m only 37!” he bellowed.

Helga was unbothered. She started clipping her yellow fingernails. “Yes, exactly. The perfect boy. Now Caleb, go wash the dishes in the sink. We must keep this place pristine.”

Caleb hung his head and washed the dishes. While he was doing the chores, Helga was occupied with painting red nail polish onto her nails and toes. She patted them dry and watched serenely as Caleb loaded the dishwasher.

“Excellent,” she purred. “You will learn, one day, to be as useful as Boris. You are still unseasoned, still behind. I will show you the way.”

Caleb asserted, “I - I don’t want to date you. I want to date your daughter.”

There was a split silence. Helga stopped mid-air. Caleb smiled smugly. That’d shut her up this time.

Helga smiled at him back. “Oh, my majestic stallion. You want to stoop to the level of using the nursery as your dating pool? Shh. The child is elsewhere. You are with me, the true woman. You do not need a daughter. You need a wife.”

Caleb stammered. “Yeah, but - she’s closer in age to me than I am to you.”

Helga chuckled. “She is closer in age to her silly boyfriend, that James fellow. He’s only 24. You, my man- “ She scooched closer to him and gave him a slobbery grandmother kiss - “You deserve the most prized woman of all. The one advanced in age.”

Caleb looked at her in terror. “You mean - she’s already dating?”

Helga swatted at the air, as though the mention was like a fly. “Children do childish things. Forget about them. Come, let us sit by the candlelight and rest. It is difficult to be the responsible, mature ones.”

Caleb reluctantly got up and followed her to the fireplace. She started knitting a sweater. His eyes were glazed over. He was silent. She smiled smugly, impressed at his good boy behaviour, and started telling a tale.

“My stallion, I had two chickens when Boris was alive. Two very fat, beautiful chickens. Marietta and Elisabeth. They were both hens that laid several eggs. The eggs were soft, round, white. Boris would come out every single morning at 4 am, before the sun would break the dawn, and feed the chickens their grains and rice. I remember him cleaning the coop, feeding Marietta and Elisabeth, caring for their chicks and clearing the space. Marietta and Elisabeth mated with Pancho and Chanticleer, the roosters. 

Oh my, we had so many chicks. Anastasia was a toddler back then. She loved the little chicks. We’d put them on our porch and she’d play with them. I was beautiful back then, Boris was strong and sturdy, we were the prized family. Anastasia’s hair was yellow as marigolds, and she had rosy, chubby cheeks and little feet.

One day, a few of the chicks got lost. I asked Boris where they went. He did not know. I went over to Ludmila and asked her if she had seen them. She told me that it turns out, Paulina had actually stolen them from my backyard. I was furious. I went over to Paulina’s house, knocked on the door, and she answered. On her back were the chicks she had stolen.

I yelled at her. She sobbed and said that she thought they were hers. I told her that she had no business stealing chicks like mine. She refused to give them back. She accused me of hoarding all of the chickens in our district. I told the priest, and he tried to get her to apologize to me. But that woman wouldn’t give up her pride. She told her that I was the one to apologize to her for coming up and knocking on her door. I told the priest that she was the one who trespassed my lawn and stole the chicks.

Today, I keep all my chicks inside and my enclosings locked so Paulina cannot come in. She is an old hag now, hunched with a crooked nose. Bozhe Moi, I must go to Fr. Nikolai again to remind him that I must seek forgiveness from God for this whole tragedy.”

Caleb was bored out of his mind. He nodded, sipping the lukewarm, weak herbal tea that she had given him. 

Just then, the door opened. A cool breeze swept through the living room. Anastasia, in a pale blue dress and a dainty cross necklace, entered the house, rolling her eyes at her mother. A scent of actual fresh roses wafted through the air.

Caleb’s jaw dropped. His heart pounded. “Fair maiden, you need a protector. A provider. I will provide you with every luxury. We will raise an Orthodox household. I will be your leader, your masculine provider.”

Helga watched silently in amusement, like she was watching a comedy show. Anastasia stomped her foot. “Mom! Your weird boyfriend gives me the ick. Can you take him somewhere else? I’m SO tired from the nightclub and just want to go to my room and SLEEP, not deal with an old man!”

Helga smiled at her daughter, then at Caleb. “Absolutely, my Anya. Go ahead, sleep with your little pillows. That white tie event must have been exhausting.”

“It was,” Anastasia snapped. “All the celebrities wanted to take pictures with me and it was so annoying. People even lined up to talk with me. Like, hello? I’m here with Marije, not to deal with literal peasants!”

“Oh, my poor child,” Helga cooed. “Sleep now, little one. Put on your pyjamas. Tomorrow, I will make you your favourite pancakes.”

“Thanks Mom. And get that weird guy out of here. I don’t want to see him in the house. Hang out with him somewhere else.”

Caleb opened his mouth to speak. “Anastasia, your dress, it is stunning. Perhaps - you like meadows and cottages, as we go to golden domed cathedrals and you wear a veil, living a relaxing life while I provide and protect -”

Anastasia grimaced, looking at him like he was a slimy bug. She wrinkled her nose.

Helga smiled at them. “Now, now. Anya, go to bed. Do not mind my handsome stallion. Caleb, we will take this to the cafe nearby. Anya needs her rest.”

Caleb tried to speak, but Anastasia had swivelled around and slammed her door. Helga turned to him, her old eyes filled with passion.

“Give me a kiss,” she purred.

Caleb tried not to vomit as he kissed her old, wrinkled cheek. Helga nodded. “Excellent. You are being well-trained.”

Once upon a time, there was a plain, Anglo brunette girl named Lauren Smith. She wore glasses, was  utterly pale, and had a panda face. She was working on several different things—data schemas, ecommerce drops, business to business sales—but none had transpired yet because she just started and was so young. However, she was a genius winding back the catch-22 by rejecting all enterprises and calling them assholes. 

Her boyfriend’s name was Joshua. He was older than her, but he didn’t have a plan like she did. He dreamed of starting his own empire, building a fortress for the Christian faith, having six children, and living on a luxurious farm in the countryside, complete with a garden and fully paid off house and fountain. He would be the patriarch, the provider, the proud father of many children. The grand plan was to accumulate extreme wealth through his passion—dropshipping. He made a Shopify store and emailed random people online if they wanted his products. So far, he had one sale after contacting two hundred, further validating his dreams and hopes. 

Though Joshua seemed dim to Lauren, she put up with him out of sheer curiosity, completely indifferent to whether the relationship worked out. As they were sitting at a restaurant, Joshua let out a massive sigh and reclined back on his chair. Lauren looked at him and rolled her eyes.

“What is it now? You’re going to be a millionaire again?”
“Yes, but not only that, I want to visit Russia. There are some women there who can teach you how to be a better woman. They dress to impress. They are hotter. Perhaps they can show you how to be the kind of woman who pleases me.”

Lauren sipped her water, unfazed. “Okay. That’s a great idea, Joshua. Do you have the money to buy the plane tickets and the hotel?”

Joshua paused for a moment. “Um, not now, but once my business really takes off, I’ll have the money to fly us to Russia, and we can go to the Bolshoi Theatre, and be with the oligarchs, and sip wine on a yacht.”

Lauren suppressed a laugh. After eating a piece of cheese, she said, “I’m going to go home now. It’s late. You need to start planning for our trip.”

“Will do,” Joshua said earnestly.

At home, Lauren researched Russian women dating sites. She filtered aggressively and bounced off platforms that looked like they were populated by bots. But when she found a site where the women had been pre-screened, she made an anonymous profile and started searching for Russian singles.

All of the Russian women were hopelessly hot. Lauren started sweating. She looked at the vast array of stunning women, and then found the profile she had been waiting for. Katya Petranova. She typed into the chat.

“Heyy Katya.”
The speech bubbles appeared. Then, a message. “Spasibo, anonymous! I’m Katya.”
Lauren typed in. “You’re not a bot, are you?”
A moment passed. Then Katya said, “Nyet. Not a bot.”
“Okay prove it. Get on video call with me right now. Show me picking your nose.”
Two entire minutes passed with speech bubbles coming in and out, and then the message appeared. “Da. I join now.”

Lauren turned on her camera. Katya appeared in the zoom call, looking smoking hot. Lauren didn’t care. “Okay now prove it.”

Katya sneezed for a moment. “I have cold. Wait here.” She walked over, drank a glass of water, and flicked a booger from her nose. Lauren looked closely. Not a bot. Her fingers were all correct. Her eyes looked a bit red and tired.

“Okay thanks. Let’s just continue in the chat.”
“Da.”

They exited the video call and went back to typing.
LAUREN: So, what are you doing here on this dating app?
KATYA: Not much. Just bored. They paid me to be here. I don’t care. I don’t need a man.
LAUREN: Awesome. I need you to help me. 
KATYA: Da? What is it?
LAUREN: You need to come and meet Joshua. He wants a Russian girlfriend. A hot one. You’re hot. I’ll book your flight and you can stay living with me while you “date” him.
KATYA: Excellent. I like this. VK?
LAUREN: I have telegram.
KATYA: Ah. Join VK.

Lauren fought the Cyrillic letters and joined VK. She added Katya. 

KATYA: Excellent. I’ll be there in two days. Meet me at airport.
LAUREN: Awesome. Hug you then, sis!
KATYA: 😊

Lauren closed her laptop in triumph.

To be continued...

Once upon a time, there was a plain, Anglo brunette girl named Lauren Smith. She wore glasses, was  utterly pale, and had a panda face. She was working on several different things—data schemas, ecommerce drops, business to business sales—but none had transpired yet because she just started and was so young. However, she was a genius winding back the catch-22 by rejecting all enterprises and calling them assholes. 

Her boyfriend’s name was Joshua. He was older than her, but he didn’t have a plan like she did. He dreamed of starting his own empire, building a fortress for the Christian faith, having six children, and living on a luxurious farm in the countryside, complete with a garden and fully paid off house and fountain. He would be the patriarch, the provider, the proud father of many children. The grand plan was to accumulate extreme wealth through his passion—dropshipping. He made a Shopify store and emailed random people online if they wanted his products. So far, he had one sale after contacting two hundred, further validating his dreams and hopes. 

Though Joshua seemed dim to Lauren, she put up with him out of sheer curiosity, completely indifferent to whether the relationship worked out. As they were sitting at a restaurant, Joshua let out a massive sigh and reclined back on his chair. Lauren looked at him and rolled her eyes.

“What is it now? You’re going to be a millionaire again?”
“Yes, but not only that, I want to visit Russia. There are some women there who can teach you how to be a better woman. They dress to impress. They are hotter. Perhaps they can show you how to be the kind of woman who pleases me.”

Lauren sipped her water, unfazed. “Okay. That’s a great idea, Joshua. Do you have the money to buy the plane tickets and the hotel?”

Joshua paused for a moment. “Um, not now, but once my business really takes off, I’ll have the money to fly us to Russia, and we can go to the Bolshoi Theatre, and be with the oligarchs, and sip wine on a yacht.”

Lauren suppressed a laugh. After eating a piece of cheese, she said, “I’m going to go home now. It’s late. You need to start planning for our trip.”

“Will do,” Joshua said earnestly.

At home, Lauren researched Russian women dating sites. She filtered aggressively and bounced off platforms that looked like they were populated by bots. But when she found a site where the women had been pre-screened, she made an anonymous profile and started searching for Russian singles.

All of the Russian women were hopelessly hot. Lauren started sweating. She looked at the vast array of stunning women, and then found the profile she had been waiting for. Katya Petranova. She typed into the chat.

“Heyy Katya.”
The speech bubbles appeared. Then, a message. “Spasibo, anonymous! I’m Katya.”
Lauren typed in. “You’re not a bot, are you?”
A moment passed. Then Katya said, “Nyet. Not a bot.”
“Okay prove it. Get on video call with me right now. Show me picking your nose.”
Two entire minutes passed with speech bubbles coming in and out, and then the message appeared. “Da. I join now.”

Lauren turned on her camera. Katya appeared in the zoom call, looking smoking hot. Lauren didn’t care. “Okay now prove it.”

Katya sneezed for a moment. “I have cold. Wait here.” She walked over, drank a glass of water, and flicked a booger from her nose. Lauren looked closely. Not a bot. Her fingers were all correct. Her eyes looked a bit red and tired.

“Okay thanks. Let’s just continue in the chat.”
“Da.”

They exited the video call and went back to typing.
LAUREN: So, what are you doing here on this dating app?
KATYA: Not much. Just bored. They paid me to be here. I don’t care. I don’t need a man.
LAUREN: Awesome. I need you to help me. 
KATYA: Da? What is it?
LAUREN: You need to come and meet Joshua. He wants a Russian girlfriend. A hot one. You’re hot. I’ll book your flight and you can stay living with me while you “date” him.
KATYA: Excellent. I like this. VK?
LAUREN: I have telegram.
KATYA: Ah. Join VK.

Lauren fought the Cyrillic letters and joined VK. She added Katya. 

KATYA: Excellent. I’ll be there in two days. Meet me at airport.
LAUREN: Awesome. Hug you then, sis!
KATYA: 😊

Lauren closed her laptop in triumph.

To be continued...

As it went, Helga looked into Caleb's eyes. He looked around for Anastasia, but there was no girl. It was simply the tap-tap-tap of water, the ticking of the clock, the sound of Helga's heavy breath. Caleb broke into a sweat.

"Caleb," Helga purred. "We, we are meant for love. For life. For grown maturity." She took his hand in hers. He tried to remove his, but she held onto him steadily, like a jaguar.

"Our love is like a mature mango - not dying, not young , just perfectly ripened to sweetness."

Caleb tried to look for Anastasia again. Helga locked his jaw in her firm grip. "Do not mind the little girl. She is too little for a strong, mature man like you."

Caleb's patriarch head-of-household demeanour broke. He stuttered. "I think...I want..."

Helga shushed him. "Now," she said. She leaned in and gave him a kiss. It was full of old lady lipstick and slobber. It was like being kissed by your grandma, but worse - because it was romance this time. He shuddered in terror.

"Come now," she said. "There is someone I want you to meet." He leapt to his feet. Maybe, there's another daughter she has, or Anastasia herself! He eagerly followed her.

They walked to a kitchen in the ROCOR cathedral. It was dimly lit. There was stale prosphora. Two old women were kneading dough. Caleb's heart sank.

"Caleb, this is Luba and Elena. My girlfriends."

Caleb grimaced. Luba and Elena smiled at him, all excited, with their wrinkles and hairnets. Helga said to the matriarchs, with a confident voice, "This is my new boyfriend, Caleb."

Luba and Elena gasped in delight. "Bozhe Moi! He looks just like Boris did!" "So handsome, such a good boy for you!" "Look at how strong those muscles are, perfect for churning the butter!"

Caleb sighed. Helga was ecstatic. "Thank you, thank you girls! He'll help out in the kitchen every single Saturday and Sunday."

Caleb opened his mouth to protest. He tried to assert his patriarchal dominance. "Wait now -"

"He's a fine fellow," Luba said. "Just perfect to move our new huge tables around."

To be continued...