Russian Women and Me


I lived in Moscow for a few years and experienced many adventures and situations that are out-of-the-ordinary back home. I recorded most of these in my blog Mission To Moscow, which has become more popular since I stopped writing in it and has gained more than 30,000 hits per month (and decent ad revenue, to boot). I couldn't get that kind of traffic when I was actively writing it!

Some of the most popular posts on that blog involve stories of drugs, drunken stupors and/or girls. Particularly Russian girls. 

By "girls" I mean, of course, grown women. But adding "girls" + "Russian" in a blog post drives Google search traffic crazy. Also, while I'm no misogynist (don't get me started on feminist BS), I'm also no pansy-pants white knight, and see nothing wrong with admiring the beauty of hot women. Russia, as it were, is filled with hot women. 

Since returning home, anytime somebody at work or a friend learns that I lived in Russia, they almost always ask "What about the women? I hear Russian women are hot! Is it true?" I almost always answer like this:
"Yes"
Followed by
"But..."

Bevy of Beautiful Slavic Ladies

My first few days in Russia were the most jaw-dropping I've had in a long time. Everywhere I turned, I was surrounded by breathtaking beauty the likes of which I had never seen before, except for maybe in Seoul. 

This was Moscow, the "New New York" as it's called, or the "New York of Europe". Moscow has emerged from the dreary grey slab of Communism to embrace free-market capitalism in all its glory, foibles and all, and as the political heart of that vast country, it has become the center of finance, fashion, technology and wealth. St Petersburg still holds its claim as Russia's cultural and artistic heart, but nothing there gets done without money from Moscow.

People from all over the country migrate to Moscow. You can have the best degree in the country, but living in the styx in Russia is akin to living in a developing country, with crappy infrastructure, corrupt officials and little opportunity. This is why hordes of young people flock to Moscow and St Petersburg in search of riches. 

Also, Russian women outnumber men by nearly 5-to-1 (depending on the area, and who you ask. Everywhere, though, there is a huge surplus of women). This means that not only do large numbers of women flock to the cities from the decrepit countryside, but also the competition amongst these women for a suitable partner is fierce. Thus, they stay in shape and dress to the nines. 

For a guy like me, arriving in Moscow from Canada, where North American norms of female conduct include jogging pants, self-righteousness and a bucket of fried chicken, the bevy of beautiful, feminine, fashionable women was awesome!

I had a sore neck my first week there from constantly gawking left and right!


After a few weeks, as I got into the regular rhythm of living and working in Moscow, I began to grow immune to these beauties. That is, there were so many of them at any given place and time (including at work!) that I stopped processing them. By the end of my first year in Russia the hordes of beautiful Russian girls were simply background noise.

In North America, when a beautiful, well-dressed woman walks past every straight man, and many women as well, will do a double-take, maybe even stare, slack-jawed (for those who never learned to use their peripheral vision). In Russia, when an ugly woman walks by, the same effect is observed, so rare a sight is an ugly female.

No Feminism

Russian women are not as hostile as, say, Canadian girls (who I find to be the most prudish, after the Brits), and third-wave feminism has not turned them all into brainwashed man-hating paranoid bundles of freaked-out stress, because feminism was toyed with during the Soviet era, and then roundfully rejected by the vast majority of women (in Soviet times, to prove they were more "progressive" then the west, women were forced into the construction trades, where a vastly higher number of them were injured and/or killed when compared to male deaths. Today tall construction cranes are a symbol of post-Soviet feminist oppression, and women in Russia hate the entire ideology). 

Katya summed it up best when I was dating her, and I cooked dinner, washed the dishes and did the laundry for a week or two straight. "Would you please just let me be a woman?!?" she hollered in exasperation. No arguments there. No dill in my sandwich, please.

Beware The Russian Woman

The Russian girls were also very easy to approach and, because most of them hold higher education, they all spoke some English even if they were a bit shy at first to speak it with an actual foreigner. The thing is, I barely had to approach these girls at all. Quagmire and I would just speak English to each other and four or five Slavic girls would mosey-on over to us and strike up a conversation. 

Russian girls are, however, dangerous. While they appear normal on the outside, that is, blondes, redheads, brunettes; they are completely different than us on the inside. The way they think and look at the world is heavily influenced by Russia, which is a completely different place than, say, California or New South Wales. Because so many have migrated to Moscow from the countryside, they look at the world through provincial Russian eyes. Read some Tolstoy for a deeper look into the provincial Russian soul.

As a man, and a westerner, it was just automatically assumed that I pooped money, which I could then use to purchase anything the Slavic beauty at my side fancied. Even if I don't speak Russian I'm expected to order all the food, negotiate with the sales person, give directions to the taxi driver and fend off other males with appropriate displays of ape-like aggression. 

This is one reason I ended up marrying Katya. She wasn't like that. She sometimes insisted that she pay for dinner, just so she felt better about herself and her half of the relationship. She did all the talking with the waiters and shopkeepers, and laughed with me when I insulted drunk Russian macho guys in English while they looked dumbly on in surprise. Katya was different.

Of course, Katya is no provincial. She grew up in the suburbs of Moscow, the largest city in Europe (population 15 million +), center of fashion and finance, and is a native Muscovite. They are truly different then the millions of  country girls who crowd the city every year, trying to be modern and urban but clinging to their provincial way of thinking. 

Beware the Russian woman
So, did I nail any of these hot women?
Yes
But....

Well, I won't kiss and tell, but I did marry one, didn't I?



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