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This tale moves through Groningen, Netherlands, and Saint Petersburg, Russia, before arriving at the most recent iteration in Istanbul, Türkiye, close to the present day. While the majority of the action takes place within the past six months, I give the background upfront, starting over five years ago, as this is when the foundation of our interaction was laid. I appreciate any guidance as to how to take this forward, especially from the more experienced members of the community, because my relations with the lady have a tendency to stall, as I'm never quite sure what to do next. And if there is nothing to be done, I can still learn from others' commentary.
What makes this case exceptionally difficult is that this girl, I have discovered, has a very assertive and self-confident personality, and I, being accustomed to dating more submissive women, find it difficult to maintain a leading frame, as I feel she is almost trying to usurp the male role.
The subject is a petite Russian lady, now 25, at the beginning of the story 19 (though I didn't know it at the time: she comes across as very mature). We'll call her Botticelli, as she possesses the curly fair hair and gentle curves of the women depicted by the Italian Renaissance painter of that name. She is a lawyer, with a sharp intellect and a sharper tongue. She takes care of herself; at her leanest, she has a six-pack, and even at her curviest this miniature girl still has a tiny waist.
Part One: The Netherlands, December 2018
It was over five years ago now when, in mid-December, I first met Botticelli. We had matched on Tinder, and swiftly moved off that platform to continue our communication on WhatsApp. (Translated from the original Russian.)
M: Hi Botticelli, this is Marty
B:
M: I will try to be in The Hague for 13:30
M: Or Rotterdam, if you prefer
M: We'll be in touch in the morning
M: As I understand it, you plan to go in any case for tourism.
B: Okay
M: I am looking at your photographs. You have very fine features. I find you outwardly attractive.
B:
The next morning (readers familiar with Eastern European women will know that the single close-parenthesis indicates a shorthand smiley emoticon):
M: Hi Botticelli. What's the plan? The Hague or Rotterdam?
M: I took a half-day off.
B: Good morning. I just woke up ) Good )
M: That's what I figured
M: The weather in both cities is fine.
B: I am looking at the buses and the timetable is inconvenient. I'm still thinking. Don't you want to come to Groningen? ) Especially since you now, miraculously, have a half-day free )
M: Okay. For you, yes.
B: Excellent )
M: I have a meeting that ends at 12:00, I will travel immediately after
M: Would you like to use the T-form? (second person singular, familiar form of address)
B: Okay, we can )
M: I should arrive at 15:15 approximately
B: Wonderful, keep me informed. Then I will meet you.
M: I am already en route, I caught the earlier train, I will arrive at 14:15! See you soon
B: I will meet you by the Christmas tree.
When I arrived, she was waiting by a huge Christmas tree in the station hall, as promised. She offered her cheek. Explaining that she was staying with friends in the Netherlands, who wanted to do boring stuff by themselves as a couple today, she led me to a café she knew in this city as yet unknown to me. We talked for an hour, maybe 90 minutes. She did most of the talking. I was on unfamiliar territory here, and didn't have good logistics. I was just thinking it was time to bounce, and wondering how to do it, when she herself said "Shall we go?" I called for the check, and we walked back through the city. It became apparent that we were heading back to the rail station, so I didn't press the point. She offered her cheek again and we parted.
In what was to become a recurring pattern for me with this girl, she left me seething on the train home, that I had taken a half-day and spent maybe 90 EUR on the round-trip ticket, for little apparent "reward", and resolved not to contact her again
But that is a mercenary and unbecoming way of looking at it, as became apparent as I slowly considered the matter on the two-hour train journey. And what's more, something about her had gotten into my head. Again, this was to be a recurring pattern of conflicting views as to the future with this girl, or lack of one.
So, that evening, I fired off a text:
M: I want to come to Saint Petersburg to see you
B: Come, I'll show you the city
M:
M: I'll need to apply for a visa in advance
M: I'm off to bed
B: Good night
B: Apply for one
M: Thanks for seeing me to the station. A very cool day
B: I was also happy that we saw each other
And that was it, for a time. Scarcely a month after, I got into what looked like a serious relationship with another lady, which was a little stormy in the first year, but nonetheless romantic and satisfying. Throughout 2019, the other lady came to visit me frequently, or we vacationed together; in the years that followed, the frequency of her visits dropped, although the intensity was the same or stronger at times when we were together. Thus I was always in two minds as to whether I was committed or open to other opportunities, and Botticelli stuck in my mind throughout as "what might have been"—though I barely knew her.
In May 2019, I received a WhatsApp message from Botticelli again, unsolicited. The following exchange ensued:
B: Hey )
M: Hey Botticelli
B: How are you? )
M: Doing great, spring is here at last, just spent the weekend in Paris, success at work. You?
B: Well done ) My congratulations
How was Paris? ) I'm doing great, alternating between studies, work, and the gym I'm flying to Moscow for the day tomorrow. Otherwise, all is bubbling away, I like the fast pace ☺
M: I'm glad I like structure in my schedule too. I can see from your profile photo that you visit the gym regularly; as always, you're very desirable 
Paris is beautiful, cleaner than I expected
B: Weren't there some riots, or is it all over now? )
M: We left a day before they started, fortunately
B: You were lucky then
B: Do you miss me? ))
M: Not sure I understand the question? I very much enjoyed my visit to Groningen and my conversation with you!
There follows an exchange that I shan't reproduce, because she wrongly assumes that I haven't understood her Russian, and attempts to translate into (poor) English. The gist of it is that she asked whether I missed her because of my remark about her being desirable. Once this is finally sorted out, I make clear my romantic interest in her, but give an honest assessment of my situation:
M: Botticelli, you attract me as a woman very much. It so happens, however, that a serious girlfriend has appeared in my life.
At this point, she sends a message, but immediately erases it.
M: It is not yet clear whether this relationship will be successful or not.
B: I understand
B: Good luck
M: I am careful, since in the past there have been many disappointments
B: All will be well. The past is the past. And ahead is the bright present. (sic)
M: Yes. I can say that if a girlfriend had not appeared in my life, I would be missing you greatly. I was truly impressed that day, as you no doubt noticed.
B: All that is done is for the best. Write to me if you break up
Likewise )
That last word, "likewise", really hit me.
M: That is very beautifully written, you delighted me today
And the next day:
M: I have to admit that you got into my head... you are quite bewitching! wishing you a very pleasant trip to Moscow and a nice week
B:
About 10 days later, in early June, she reached out to me again, asking for help translating a professional phrase into English, for her mother who is a physician. I help her and we exchange a few cheerful messages.
About 6 weeks after that—we are now in late July 2019—she initiated another WhatsApp conversation, with a simple "Hey! How are you?"-type opening. We exchanged maybe 100 messages over the next couple days, about each other's health, career plans, hobbies, etc.; I sent her a couple of sound files of me playing the piano, which she appreciated; I complimented her on her profile photo, where she was wearing tight pants, and she appreciated that too, with a laugh! Then later in the conversation, she asked how my relationship was going; I told her it was generally good, but I suspected that the girl was a little irresponsible with finances, probably due to her young age, and she agreed that many girls of that age are like that (it turned out that Botticelli herself was actually 2 years younger, but as I mentioned, she came across as so mature that it didn't even occur to me). We ended the conversation on a good note.
Over the next few years, we occasionally wrote to each other, getting into similar brief exchanges, but I shan't bore the reader with the details. Finally, in March 2023 I sent her a card as an image in WhatsApp with a greeting for International Women's Day (a major holiday in Russia).
M:
[card]
B: Hi. Thank you so much, that's very nice. I'm glad to receive congratulations from you )
M: I am glad that you liked it! I like you a lot after all; our timing was all wrong, which is why I try not to take up your time too often, but all the same, that day sticks in my memory, and I'll probably always associate Groningen with you
B: That sounds very sweet Nice to hear it, but I don't think your girlfriend would appreciate it if she knew that you were writing these things to another woman 
and so many years have passed 
M: What you say is right and proper, I admit. No one is perfect, please forgive me.
B: That's okay, don't take it so seriously ) I think it is important to show consideration for others' feelings, and to be responsible for your choice )
M: You're right. The first comes naturally to me; the second always seems to require effort
B: Why? ) Are you not happy in your relationship? )
An interval of two days passed. Then I explained that I had written a very detailed answer to her last question, and would send her my response if she was really interested. I emphasized that I was attracted to her as a woman, not as a source of emotional support, and was certainly not soliciting her advice, let alone seeking to burden her with my own problems; but was willing to give an honest answer to illustrate my situation and, at the least, satisfy her curiosity.
She responded in the affirmative, on the ostensible grounds that she was always eager to learn more about the male sex and what goes on in our heads; and after reading my text, she was unsurprised that I was doubtful about my situation. A couple of phrases stuck with me:
B: In my view, you don't have a relationship with her, in reality it is a holiday romance
B: I get the impression that for this woman, you and your relationship with her are not a priority
We continued in this vein for a time, but the conversation naturally tailed off, as each of us had his own matters to attend to.
Part Two: Russia, August 2023
A few months later, in July 2023, I wrote to her again, telling her that I planned to travel to Saint Petersburg in mid-August and would be happy to see her. She responded almost immediately, saying that it was hard for her to plan that far in advance, but that I should reach out closer to the time, once our respective schedules were firmer. This I did, about a week ahead of our eventual meeting. She made a reservation for us at a restaurant she recommended, and I asked her whether there were any brands of, say, scent or cosmetics currently unavailable on the Russian market that she would like me to bring. This produced an interesting response (unimportant details are omitted and replaced with an ellipsis):
B: Has anyone ever told you that you're an ideal man?
... I can't imagine you looking for highlighters or lipstick 
It's very kind of you though
M: I have been told, yes ... you might be surprised what I have gone in search of for women in the past Out with it, at the double! A list with screenshots, brand names, colors etc., what they have in the department store I'll pick up
Due to the outbreak of collective hysteria indulged in by the Western powers in the last couple of years, it is no longer possible to fly directly from any place in the European Union to Saint Petersburg; I flew to Helsinki and took the bus from there along the Gulf of Finland coast. It was a scenic and memorable journey. I had let Botticelli know the dates I would be in the city, and our date was for my second evening there. I spent the first evening having dinner and a boat trip on the Neva River with a lady I'd met on Mamba (an Eastern European dating app which I find more navigable than Tinder); this lady even came back to my hotel room, but that is not part of this story
Therefore I was gratified that Botticelli sent me an "anti-flaking text" at the end of my first day in the city, even repeating the time and location of our upcoming meeting. I assured her that I had it in my calendar and mentioned how much I had appreciated what I had seen so far of her beautiful native city.
The next evening, we showed up in the two-story restaurant almost simultaneously; the hostess had sent me upstairs to the table Botticelli had reserved for us, which was located on a raised platform on the same side of the building as the spiral stairwell, near the windows facing the street, set apart from the other tables on the floor and therefore giving a feel of spaciousness—an excellent selection. My date arrived in a stunning cobalt blue dress with a deep décolletage. She offered me her cheek and we sat next to each other on the same side of the table, on a booth-type couch, with our backs to the wall, overlooking the other diners.
After exchanging pleasantries (it was, after all, almost five years since we had last seen each other), we had a look at the menus the waiter had brought, along with placemats that contained a crossword puzzle, as part of the restaurant's 'fisheries' theme, and accompanying pencils! I handed off the contraband eyeshadow, which she popped gratefully in her purse, and other assorted goodies; after ordering, the crossword made for an excellent ice-breaker. I was obviously in a relatively disadvantaged position, as the puzzle was in her native Russian, but I was proud to solve one clue that she didn't: "Our neighbor across the Sea of Okhotsk". JAPAN, of course
I can't remember exactly what I said, but I asked a question, and the entire tone of the conversation changed. The crosswords were put aside in a matter of seconds, she turned her body toward me with an expression of wonder in her eyes, and the words started to flow. She told me about how she had entered the legal profession because of a profound sense of fairness and justice. She told me of her childhood, and her personal diary, and a little doll she still kept, and to whom she still told all her secrets. Somehow, she volunteered the information that she was, in her own words, a 'sapiosexual', and that she couldn't become romantically interested in an unintelligent man. I realized that the first time I had met her, I had barely scratched the surface, and that there was so much more to this fascinating woman. I don't know how long we were in the 'bubble'—inside its perimeter, time seemed to be swallowed up into nothingness—but from my phone records it is apparent that I spent three and a half hours with her from meeting at the table to seeing her off at her parking spot. The 'bubble' was very much like the one I described, 10 years previously, in FR: PacificBeauty.
As I walked her to her car, she asked me about an oddity in my life history; I told her that there was a short version for acquaintances, and a long version for those I valued. I promised that I would fill her in on the whole story when we next saw each other. I was still so entranced that I almost forgot to hand back to her the Fazer Dumle Finnish candies that I had bought for her at her request and was carrying to help her; she had to remind me. She offered me her cheek again, and drove off at a startling speed that struck me as somewhat reckless.
I turned and shuffled in the general direction of my hotel. In that great city in the far north, around the summer solstice the sun barely sets; but it was August already, three quarters of an hour before midnight, and dusk had at last arrived. Still dazed, I emerged blinking into the brightly-lit Vosstaniya Square. In front of me stood a magnificent station building. Huge shining white letters atop it announced MOSKOVSKY RAIL TERMINAL. On the opposite side of the square, more than the length of a football field away, was a six-story residential building, all white stucco and Neoclassical columns and porticoes. Equally large and bright letters informed arriving rail passengers: HERO-CITY LENINGRAD. Further along, on Nevsky Prospekt, a million steps thrummed constantly on the pavement. At every intersection, the crosswalks counted down the seconds, on red just as on green, a never-ending heartbeat block after block; and the scent of this enigmatic, crazy, but incredible girl remained with me all the way.
In this reverie I eventually reached my hotel, by which time the text exchange below had begun. I will reproduce excerpts from it, because it contains clues on how she sees men and on her sexual proclivities. Where details are omitted, they have been replaced, as before, with an ellipsis (...). My hotel on the Fontanka Embankment had a lovely en suite restaurant, where breakfast was served to the guests, and where this night I sat and ordered tea before returning to my room, and continued my correspondence with this beauty, which lasted for another two hours immediately following our date.
M: Did you get home safely, Botticelli?
B: I took a roundabout route to avoid two patrol checkpoints. The traffic police wouldn't have appreciated my speed, and I don't like driving slowly ) ...
M: I noticed, when I saw you drive off
I told you to take care of yourself
B: That was slow by my standards ...
M: You need a firm hand and, where necessary, punishment, it's the only way
B: I prefer to be a Mistress ...
M: Not necessarily. You will find out for yourself one day
B: I've tried that, didn't like it I myself am like a punishment for a man
M: I don't dare to think, your poor other suitors
B: Don't pity them too soon
M: ... Clearly the right guy hasn't come along yet
B: I go to Shibari kinky parties, it's not the same, I like to be in charge of the process and not just participate )
M: I'll need to Google that
At this point I was starting to reconsider whether I really wanted to know this person better. Before the above exchange, which set me well and truly on edge, at the restaurant she had started telling me about her practice of standing on a bed of nails in order to improve concentration and think through problems clearly, which had made me extremely uncomfortable and forced me to change the subject. Here was a beautiful young woman, clean-cut, well-dressed, sober, clearly intelligent, highly communicative, with excellent social skills, and no apparent signs of mental illness that I could detect, suddenly out of nowhere talking about what seemed suspiciously like self-harm.
I had set it aside despite lingering doubts, but barely two hours later, in the text exchange above, she was now again alluding to extremely dubious practices, and this time harder ones to ignore, since they impacted sexual relations directly. Even leaving the squalor of it all completely aside, what exactly is one supposed to do in the bedroom as a man, if the woman wants to be a Mistress? Fight it out with her for the right to take the leading role? No thanks. What sort of a man does a Mistress even need?
So I tried, in vain, to wrest control, and scolded her for apparently texting, to my genuine concern, from behind the wheel of an automobile:
B: I want to take this opportunity to compliment you on your vocabulary and knowledge of Russian! ) Wow! )
M: Are you parked at the car wash?
B: No, I'm waiting at a stop light
M: That simply won't do, you can start texting me again when you arrive at the car wash
B: Oh, please cut out the daddy impression )))
M: My mind works slowly. If I give up the father-figure role, I need to find an alternative, and that could take me several years and you won't wait that long
She laughs at that. Many a true word spoken in jest: I really am struggling to find the right archetype for dating these younger women, and I have no doubt she is right that the current approach is somewhat unhealthy. In the same vein:
M: And besides, you're a treasure, and I feel responsible for your security, even if I shouldn't, objectively speaking.
B: This type of remark makes me feel like a Pomeranian left tied up outside a store, its owner concerned about its safety, while at heart I'm a Dobermann Pinscher
M: A very apropos metaphor, and I appreciate you helping me to understand your feelings. But what troubles me most is that I don't know how you DO want to feel! Maybe you can drop a hint from time to time
B: You can ask me questions by word of mouth, and receive an honest answer, but whether you're prepared to hear it is another matter.
I promised to bring it up again the next time we met face-to-face, and indeed I did not forget, raising it again six months later in Türkiye. To continue:
B: I feel like a fox terrier, compact, but nonetheless a hunter
M: Ha yes! A very apposite comparison. But it will not bite the one who tames it
B: My nature is to be the tamer, and not the beast )))
M: I don't doubt it. But in the end, I assume that you need positive containment, at least in some measure, in order to be happy. But you have plenty of time, and meanwhile you can tame others to your heart's content
B: Why try to contain the storm? )
M: You know, despite the obvious incompatibility of our characters, such remarks from you don't discourage me in the least; in fact I see them as a challenge but I think you know that, and are doing it on purpose
B: Try to calm the storm and it will redouble its force. Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't need a "daddy" in a relationship ) That doesn't attract me sexually: I have a very beloved father, and that spot is, shall we say, taken. There's room in my life for a partner only )))
I am still struggling with what exactly her concept of "partner" is. There was another, lighter exchange that night worth including here:
B: No one waylaid you on the way back, I hope? )
M:
B: Well, who knows? A handsome man like you could get abducted. Perhaps someone is building a harem of men
It was good to get a compliment from this woman, even if it was expressed with feminine subtlety!
Part Three: Türkiye, February 2024
Over the next few months, we were occasionally in touch, but until December 2023 there was little of note in our text exchanges. That suddenly changed when she texted me out of the blue that she was in Dubai, and, if I happened to be free, I should come over and join her! Well, I didn't happen to be free at that kind of notice, in fact I had plans to visit my mother for Christmas, among other things, so I respectfully declined, but suggested that we should make plans to see each other at the earliest mutually convenient opportunity.
Over the following days we chatted quite a lot over text, and somehow we alighted on the topic of clothing, whereupon I retroactively complimented her on the cobalt blue dress she had worn to our date in Saint Petersburg last August. I have lightly edited the following exchange for clarity and brevity:
B: Haha Marty, you're up to your old tricks again )
M: Moi? So many things about you spark my curiosity.
B: For example? )
M: [lists various qualities] And to cap it all, every conversation with you creates another riddle to solve. There, you see, I've revealed to you the secret of your effect on me talk about fishing for compliments
B: Do I have an effect on you? ) How curious )))
M: Oh that's good, I like that don't you see it? Or do you just want the pleasure of hearing it yet again? I'd rather show you, let's see what we can do when we next meet
B: I guess I didn't notice, since we haven't had too many in-person meetings ) Sounds good )
I ended up sending her some flowers (after eventually overcoming the best efforts of Western payment card providers to stop me buying anything from Russian merchants), and over the next several weeks, we discussed, among other things, the location of our next meeting. Significantly, she made clear to me that while the idea of repeating my earlier visit, in a different season, and inviting her on a night out again was all well and good, it wasn't really escalatory and didn't take matters further fast enough. She believed that we would get to know each other better if we spent several days in each others' constant company, and I was inclined to agree. So after eliminating a few other possibilities for practical reasons, we settled on a trip to Türkiye. She sent me the following WhatsApp messages that I consider important in this context:
B: Listen, I want to visit lots of locations and share our impressions. The point is to communicate and do things together, not just to see the sights That is, to spend time together, as I see it
B: In essence, I regard this trip as an extended date and I would like to spend more time together )
And in the event, aside from sleeping hours and the occasional retreat to our hotel rooms to get changed, we did indeed spend the entire 5-night trip constantly in each other's company.
The testing started almost immediately after we met at Istanbul Airport. I called the cab company and described where we were standing and our appearance, to make it easier for the dispatcher to find us. When I got off the call, Botticelli remarked: "Actually, my sweater isn't green, it's mint-colored." I explained, to her giggles, that (a) English wasn't the taxi-driver's first language; (b) in his profession as taxi-driver, he was most likely unaccustomed to such subtle distinctions; (c) he was a man, ditto; (d) I use different language when complimenting a woman on her dress choices and when speaking to a male taxi-driver in an unfamiliar country; and (e) I nonetheless appreciated her bringing it to my attention.
We had planned two nights in Istanbul, two nights in Izmir including a trip to an interesting site from Classical Antiquity out-of-town, and one last night in Istanbul again before departing for home. I will spare the reader the touristic details, focusing instead on the parts of the interaction relevant to our relations. I hope that this practice will explain any discontinuity in the narrative.
The first night, after an intense conversation over dinner on the rooftop terrace of a delightful restaurant, we walked a little in Fatih before returning to our hotel in Beyoğlu. We agreed that we would exchange gifts in my hotel room. This was relatively uneventful, but I include it because of the importance attached to isolating together at a private location described extensively in many of the articles on this site. She was thrilled with the items I had bought for her, including a purse, an eau de parfum, and some make-up brushes. What I hadn't been expecting were her own gifts to me: a fine lacquer box and handmade wooden coasters, both painted in a traditional design, and a beautifully-decorated tin of delicious apple cookies, all brought with her from Russia. I kissed her goodnight on the cheek, and she returned to her own room.
The second day, we visited several tourist sites culminating with the Topkapı Palace. As we walked down a steep incline from the Haseki Sultan Complex, where the sidewalk was very narrow, vehicles were passing at quite dangerous speeds. I asked her to take the nearside, closest to the buildings, so that she would not be exposed to this hazard. She told me she preferred taking my other arm, and after some remonstration from my side, she complained with a dry smile that I "showed signs of being too controlling".
I found it difficult to tell whether she was entirely in earnest on this point. She had begun a running joke with me that "a witch and fairy differ only in mood", offering at my request several formulae for turning the one into the other, such as provision of coffee first thing in the morning, etc. Later in the vacation, I mischievously suggested that I should like to see her "witch-side", as it might excite me. At this she remarked, sardonically and in a sort of stage whisper, as if to a nonexistent bystander, "Oh look, now he's showing signs of masochism", and seeing my presumably crestfallen expression quickly followed up with "I'm just kidding". Therefore, it is quite possible that the above remark about my suspected controlling nature was also in jest.
Be that as it may, now, in the taxi ride to the next destination, the subject of controlling personalities formed a natural continuation to our conversation. Sooner or later, in a repetition of the pattern I had seen after our Saint Petersburg date, she steered the discourse in a direction I found uncomfortable. After expounding a personal theory of hers that people who struggle to exert control over their occupational lives tend to become more controlling at home, and that by contrast those who enjoy massive material success tend to want their significant other to take the reins in their personal lives—a theory, by the way, that I find highly dubious and ungrounded in real-world evidence—she returned, unbelievably, to the subject of physical restraint in the bedroom. She praised it as a means of voluntarily ceding control. I responded with great skepticism, pointing out that the process is by its very nature nonconsensual, since the victim once restrained cannot resist any undesired act. She started talking about safewords and the like, at which I expressed yet stronger skepticism; but fortunately we were "saved by the bell", as our imminent arrival at the Süleymaniye Mosque, thankfully, provided me the opportunity to cut this unproductive and frankly abhorrent discussion short. I made a joke about the irony of discussing kink while arriving at a place of worship, we both laughed, and the tension finally broke.
The last tourist destination of the day was the Topkapı Palace, a very romantic location for a two-hour stroll, and when finished we found another rooftop terrace for a late luncheon. We had a table in the corner, lit by the setting sun, and though Botticelli hadn't initially wanted to photograph herself, when I told her how beautiful she looked in the gold-red light, she took a lovely selfie, and later shared it with me, thanking me for persuading her to take it, and even started using it as her WhatsApp profile photo.
After some time apart for rest and relaxation, and then going out together to grab a late bite to eat, near midnight we agreed that Botticelli would come to my room to play a game together. She had brought with her some cards with questions that could be used to get to know a person better, by taking turns to ask and giving an honest response. Having read somewhere on this site, a very long time ago, that it is good practice to ensure there is nowhere to sit other than the bed, I placed my hand baggage on the only stool available.
Botticelli came in, exclaimed briefly that I was already in home clothes, and took a seat near the foot of the bed, while I rested against the headboard. During the game, I did invite her to come closer, if she wanted, but she declined. The game proved to be a good means of getting to know each other more deeply, and we parted on a high note.
The third day we took a domestic flight to Izmir, and after checking into our hotel rooms, Botticelli delighted me by asking whether she should curl her hair freshly for me, and even sent me a short video when it was ready as a sneak preview before we reconvened for the afternoon. We took a stroll on the beautiful Aegean Sea embankment there, as well as a boat trip to a neighboring district and back. After dinner we saw the "Ascenseur" early 20th century city elevator and the magnificent nighttime view from the upper station.
On the morning of the fourth day, while still sitting at the breakfast table, I confronted Botticelli. Her tone with me the previous evening had become tetchy—she had proposed some activities that were unrealistic given our timelines, afterward blaming me for not telling her immediately that I wasn't on board, implying that if I had been clearer she might have saved time investigating them; as well as putting me in what I saw as an embarrassing situation at one point—and I wanted to clarify matters between us. I asked her point blank what her intentions toward me were, as I felt I was being subjected to a cat-and-mouse game and was unsure of her genuine interest.
While she took exception to my criticism of her activity the previous day, she appeared to appreciate the directness of the latter question, and told me that she liked me as a man and found me attractive. She said that she was currently unattached, and that she was happy with her day-to-day life, her apartment, her profession, her pets, and wasn't looking to make a major change, but wanted a man to spend romantic time with. While she found me superficially attractive, she needed to know that we could get along with each other, hence the plan to spend several days in succession together. I was delighted to hear of her conception of a relationship that allowed space for personal lives, as it fit very much with my own current preferences. (The following day, during a conversation about each of our past romantic experiences, she added that she wasn't currently looking to get married or move in with anyone, hence her tendency to date men of my age who have already had children and would therefore more likely be okay with that setup.)
This interaction was cathartic and set the tone for a memorable, perfect day. It suddenly felt as if we were the closest of allies. We were to visit an ancient Classical site outside the city in the afternoon, and Botticelli wanted to make an offering to the Greek goddess to whom the site was a shrine, that included four candles of different colors. In the morning, we wandered the market seeking out these candles as well as some souvenirs for relatives back home. Luck seemed to be with us that day, as we found a white candle first, fairly easily, in a regular tourist store; maybe a half-hour later, a red and a blue candle in a dark, mysterious local emporium; and finally a yellow candle, of the same size and shape as the first three, at an outdoor stall with a jocular owner who seemed delighted by our custom. This gradual process, lit by winter sunshine, formed a natural crescendo that built up a close emotional connection.
After a romantic and very scenic lunch at a winter garden restaurant on the Aegean embankment, we met our car and driver at our hotel for our journey to the shrine. Botticelli's contribution to the organization of this five-night vacation had been to find and agree terms with this excellent fellow, whose wife was Russian and who therefore spoke reasonable Russian, enabling us to communicate with him easily. This provided for an interesting dynamic. The three of us chatted on and off during the journey, but the driver needed to stop for gas once on each of the outbound and return segments. In each case, while he was refueling, Botticelli and I spent a few minutes "reconnecting" one-to-one at the rest stop, and again, this feeling of being "allies" returned.
Once more, luck was on our side that day; Botticelli had wanted to make the offering to the goddess shortly before dusk (for reasons best understood by herself!)—hence our postponement of the trip until the afternoon—yet as we finally arrived at the location, we saw the caretaker leaving on his bicycle, presumably headed home, having just locked up. Our wonderful driver wound down the window and spoke with him in Turkish while we waited with anticipation. In return for my "making it worth his while", he unlocked the site again and gave us a personal tour. This caretaker, who looked only slightly less ancient than the site itself, turned out to be quite a character. It seems that honoring of this Ancient Greek goddess has become quite a trend among Russian women of a certain persuasion, and while Botticelli was busy with her candles at the altar, I discreetly led away our driver and the elderly caretaker, who had started talking loudly, so that they would not disturb her, and he showed me photos of dozens of female Russian "friends" he had made in his phone contacts, our driver rapidly translating for me through suppressed guffaws. Sure enough, he asked for Botticelli's number or Instagram or something before we left, and she told me he started bombarding her too with direct messages shortly afterward!
Back in Izmir after nightfall, the day finished as perfectly as it had begun, with dinner at a rooftop terrace restaurant overlooking the Aegean and with a magnificent view of the famous Konak Square, lit up in bright colors.
Next Steps
I would like to know how I could add a touch of romance and intimacy to our currently rather dry interactions. As far as kino is concerned, she always took my arm when we walked anywhere together, and I often rested my hand on her thigh to add closeness during intense conversations in restaurants or taxis, or put my arm around her to keep her warm on the boat; but I never touched the more intimate areas such as belly or face, let alone breasts or derrière. I don't know whether she is interested in sex, or indeed in sex with me—I know that many women have little in the way of sex drive—but it would be good to kiss, for example. She told me several times that she finds me attractive as a man, but I don't yet see evidence of her words in her actions. It would be good also to make something a little more loving happen when we are isolated alone, for example, for her to be able to rest in my arms when we played the card game with the questions would have been more gratifying.
In addition, I would like to know how better to overcome our natural differences in character so that our interactions become smoother. I notice that she sometimes breaks rapport over text, for example:
M: I like how you intentionally try to help me expand my Russian vocabulary
B: It's more that I just use the appropriate word and sometimes give a definition for the avoidance of misunderstanding
The above clarification seems quite unnecessary, she could have just let it ride. There are other, similar examples; perhaps she just has a pedantic personality and prefers always to tell the truth, but sometimes it feels to me that rapport is intentionally being broken.
As I mentioned at the beginning of the report, I will be extremely grateful for any words of wisdom from the more experienced members of the community, and will be happy to read everyone's comments and criticisms!
With thanks,
- Marty
What makes this case exceptionally difficult is that this girl, I have discovered, has a very assertive and self-confident personality, and I, being accustomed to dating more submissive women, find it difficult to maintain a leading frame, as I feel she is almost trying to usurp the male role.
The subject is a petite Russian lady, now 25, at the beginning of the story 19 (though I didn't know it at the time: she comes across as very mature). We'll call her Botticelli, as she possesses the curly fair hair and gentle curves of the women depicted by the Italian Renaissance painter of that name. She is a lawyer, with a sharp intellect and a sharper tongue. She takes care of herself; at her leanest, she has a six-pack, and even at her curviest this miniature girl still has a tiny waist.
Part One: The Netherlands, December 2018
It was over five years ago now when, in mid-December, I first met Botticelli. We had matched on Tinder, and swiftly moved off that platform to continue our communication on WhatsApp. (Translated from the original Russian.)
M: Hi Botticelli, this is Marty
B:
M: I will try to be in The Hague for 13:30
M: Or Rotterdam, if you prefer
M: We'll be in touch in the morning
M: As I understand it, you plan to go in any case for tourism.
B: Okay
M: I am looking at your photographs. You have very fine features. I find you outwardly attractive.
B:
The next morning (readers familiar with Eastern European women will know that the single close-parenthesis indicates a shorthand smiley emoticon):
M: Hi Botticelli. What's the plan? The Hague or Rotterdam?
M: I took a half-day off.
B: Good morning. I just woke up ) Good )
M: That's what I figured
M: The weather in both cities is fine.
B: I am looking at the buses and the timetable is inconvenient. I'm still thinking. Don't you want to come to Groningen? ) Especially since you now, miraculously, have a half-day free )
M: Okay. For you, yes.
B: Excellent )
M: I have a meeting that ends at 12:00, I will travel immediately after
M: Would you like to use the T-form? (second person singular, familiar form of address)
B: Okay, we can )
M: I should arrive at 15:15 approximately
B: Wonderful, keep me informed. Then I will meet you.
M: I am already en route, I caught the earlier train, I will arrive at 14:15! See you soon
B: I will meet you by the Christmas tree.
When I arrived, she was waiting by a huge Christmas tree in the station hall, as promised. She offered her cheek. Explaining that she was staying with friends in the Netherlands, who wanted to do boring stuff by themselves as a couple today, she led me to a café she knew in this city as yet unknown to me. We talked for an hour, maybe 90 minutes. She did most of the talking. I was on unfamiliar territory here, and didn't have good logistics. I was just thinking it was time to bounce, and wondering how to do it, when she herself said "Shall we go?" I called for the check, and we walked back through the city. It became apparent that we were heading back to the rail station, so I didn't press the point. She offered her cheek again and we parted.
In what was to become a recurring pattern for me with this girl, she left me seething on the train home, that I had taken a half-day and spent maybe 90 EUR on the round-trip ticket, for little apparent "reward", and resolved not to contact her again
But that is a mercenary and unbecoming way of looking at it, as became apparent as I slowly considered the matter on the two-hour train journey. And what's more, something about her had gotten into my head. Again, this was to be a recurring pattern of conflicting views as to the future with this girl, or lack of one.So, that evening, I fired off a text:
M: I want to come to Saint Petersburg to see you
B: Come, I'll show you the city
M:
M: I'll need to apply for a visa in advance
M: I'm off to bed
B: Good night
B: Apply for one
M: Thanks for seeing me to the station. A very cool day
B: I was also happy that we saw each other
And that was it, for a time. Scarcely a month after, I got into what looked like a serious relationship with another lady, which was a little stormy in the first year, but nonetheless romantic and satisfying. Throughout 2019, the other lady came to visit me frequently, or we vacationed together; in the years that followed, the frequency of her visits dropped, although the intensity was the same or stronger at times when we were together. Thus I was always in two minds as to whether I was committed or open to other opportunities, and Botticelli stuck in my mind throughout as "what might have been"—though I barely knew her.
In May 2019, I received a WhatsApp message from Botticelli again, unsolicited. The following exchange ensued:
B: Hey )
M: Hey Botticelli
B: How are you? )
M: Doing great, spring is here at last, just spent the weekend in Paris, success at work. You?
B: Well done ) My congratulations
How was Paris? ) I'm doing great, alternating between studies, work, and the gym I'm flying to Moscow for the day tomorrow. Otherwise, all is bubbling away, I like the fast pace ☺M: I'm glad
I like structure in my schedule too. I can see from your profile photo that you visit the gym regularly; as always, you're very desirable Paris is beautiful, cleaner than I expectedB: Weren't there some riots, or is it all over now? )
M: We left a day before they started, fortunately
B: You were lucky then
B: Do you miss me? ))
M: Not sure I understand the question? I very much enjoyed my visit to Groningen and my conversation with you!
There follows an exchange that I shan't reproduce, because she wrongly assumes that I haven't understood her Russian, and attempts to translate into (poor) English. The gist of it is that she asked whether I missed her because of my remark about her being desirable. Once this is finally sorted out, I make clear my romantic interest in her, but give an honest assessment of my situation:
M: Botticelli, you attract me as a woman very much. It so happens, however, that a serious girlfriend has appeared in my life.
At this point, she sends a message, but immediately erases it.
M: It is not yet clear whether this relationship will be successful or not.
B: I understand
B: Good luck
M: I am careful, since in the past there have been many disappointments
B: All will be well. The past is the past. And ahead is the bright present. (sic)
M: Yes. I can say that if a girlfriend had not appeared in my life, I would be missing you greatly. I was truly impressed that day, as you no doubt noticed.
B: All that is done is for the best. Write to me if you break up
Likewise )That last word, "likewise", really hit me.
M: That is very beautifully written, you delighted me today
And the next day:
M: I have to admit that you got into my head... you are quite bewitching! wishing you a very pleasant trip to Moscow and a nice week
B:
About 10 days later, in early June, she reached out to me again, asking for help translating a professional phrase into English, for her mother who is a physician. I help her and we exchange a few cheerful messages.
About 6 weeks after that—we are now in late July 2019—she initiated another WhatsApp conversation, with a simple "Hey! How are you?"-type opening. We exchanged maybe 100 messages over the next couple days, about each other's health, career plans, hobbies, etc.; I sent her a couple of sound files of me playing the piano, which she appreciated; I complimented her on her profile photo, where she was wearing tight pants, and she appreciated that too, with a laugh! Then later in the conversation, she asked how my relationship was going; I told her it was generally good, but I suspected that the girl was a little irresponsible with finances, probably due to her young age, and she agreed that many girls of that age are like that (it turned out that Botticelli herself was actually 2 years younger, but as I mentioned, she came across as so mature that it didn't even occur to me). We ended the conversation on a good note.
Over the next few years, we occasionally wrote to each other, getting into similar brief exchanges, but I shan't bore the reader with the details. Finally, in March 2023 I sent her a card as an image in WhatsApp with a greeting for International Women's Day (a major holiday in Russia).
M:
[card]B: Hi. Thank you so much, that's very nice. I'm glad to receive congratulations from you )
M: I am glad that you liked it! I like you a lot after all; our timing was all wrong, which is why I try not to take up your time too often, but all the same, that day sticks in my memory, and I'll probably always associate Groningen with you
B: That sounds very sweet
Nice to hear it, but I don't think your girlfriend would appreciate it if she knew that you were writing these things to another woman and so many years have passed M: What you say is right and proper, I admit. No one is perfect, please forgive me.
B: That's okay, don't take it so seriously ) I think it is important to show consideration for others' feelings, and to be responsible for your choice )
M: You're right. The first comes naturally to me; the second always seems to require effort
B: Why? ) Are you not happy in your relationship? )
An interval of two days passed. Then I explained that I had written a very detailed answer to her last question, and would send her my response if she was really interested. I emphasized that I was attracted to her as a woman, not as a source of emotional support, and was certainly not soliciting her advice, let alone seeking to burden her with my own problems; but was willing to give an honest answer to illustrate my situation and, at the least, satisfy her curiosity.
She responded in the affirmative, on the ostensible grounds that she was always eager to learn more about the male sex and what goes on in our heads; and after reading my text, she was unsurprised that I was doubtful about my situation. A couple of phrases stuck with me:
B: In my view, you don't have a relationship with her, in reality it is a holiday romance
B: I get the impression that for this woman, you and your relationship with her are not a priority
We continued in this vein for a time, but the conversation naturally tailed off, as each of us had his own matters to attend to.
Part Two: Russia, August 2023
A few months later, in July 2023, I wrote to her again, telling her that I planned to travel to Saint Petersburg in mid-August and would be happy to see her. She responded almost immediately, saying that it was hard for her to plan that far in advance, but that I should reach out closer to the time, once our respective schedules were firmer. This I did, about a week ahead of our eventual meeting. She made a reservation for us at a restaurant she recommended, and I asked her whether there were any brands of, say, scent or cosmetics currently unavailable on the Russian market that she would like me to bring. This produced an interesting response (unimportant details are omitted and replaced with an ellipsis):
B: Has anyone ever told you that you're an ideal man?
... I can't imagine you looking for highlighters or lipstick It's very kind of you thoughM: I have been told, yes ... you might be surprised what I have gone in search of for women in the past
Out with it, at the double! A list with screenshots, brand names, colors etc., what they have in the department store I'll pick upDue to the outbreak of collective hysteria indulged in by the Western powers in the last couple of years, it is no longer possible to fly directly from any place in the European Union to Saint Petersburg; I flew to Helsinki and took the bus from there along the Gulf of Finland coast. It was a scenic and memorable journey. I had let Botticelli know the dates I would be in the city, and our date was for my second evening there. I spent the first evening having dinner and a boat trip on the Neva River with a lady I'd met on Mamba (an Eastern European dating app which I find more navigable than Tinder); this lady even came back to my hotel room, but that is not part of this story
Therefore I was gratified that Botticelli sent me an "anti-flaking text" at the end of my first day in the city, even repeating the time and location of our upcoming meeting. I assured her that I had it in my calendar and mentioned how much I had appreciated what I had seen so far of her beautiful native city.
The next evening, we showed up in the two-story restaurant almost simultaneously; the hostess had sent me upstairs to the table Botticelli had reserved for us, which was located on a raised platform on the same side of the building as the spiral stairwell, near the windows facing the street, set apart from the other tables on the floor and therefore giving a feel of spaciousness—an excellent selection. My date arrived in a stunning cobalt blue dress with a deep décolletage. She offered me her cheek and we sat next to each other on the same side of the table, on a booth-type couch, with our backs to the wall, overlooking the other diners.
After exchanging pleasantries (it was, after all, almost five years since we had last seen each other), we had a look at the menus the waiter had brought, along with placemats that contained a crossword puzzle, as part of the restaurant's 'fisheries' theme, and accompanying pencils! I handed off the contraband eyeshadow, which she popped gratefully in her purse, and other assorted goodies; after ordering, the crossword made for an excellent ice-breaker. I was obviously in a relatively disadvantaged position, as the puzzle was in her native Russian, but I was proud to solve one clue that she didn't: "Our neighbor across the Sea of Okhotsk". JAPAN, of course
I can't remember exactly what I said, but I asked a question, and the entire tone of the conversation changed. The crosswords were put aside in a matter of seconds, she turned her body toward me with an expression of wonder in her eyes, and the words started to flow. She told me about how she had entered the legal profession because of a profound sense of fairness and justice. She told me of her childhood, and her personal diary, and a little doll she still kept, and to whom she still told all her secrets. Somehow, she volunteered the information that she was, in her own words, a 'sapiosexual', and that she couldn't become romantically interested in an unintelligent man. I realized that the first time I had met her, I had barely scratched the surface, and that there was so much more to this fascinating woman. I don't know how long we were in the 'bubble'—inside its perimeter, time seemed to be swallowed up into nothingness—but from my phone records it is apparent that I spent three and a half hours with her from meeting at the table to seeing her off at her parking spot. The 'bubble' was very much like the one I described, 10 years previously, in FR: PacificBeauty.
As I walked her to her car, she asked me about an oddity in my life history; I told her that there was a short version for acquaintances, and a long version for those I valued. I promised that I would fill her in on the whole story when we next saw each other. I was still so entranced that I almost forgot to hand back to her the Fazer Dumle Finnish candies that I had bought for her at her request and was carrying to help her; she had to remind me. She offered me her cheek again, and drove off at a startling speed that struck me as somewhat reckless.
I turned and shuffled in the general direction of my hotel. In that great city in the far north, around the summer solstice the sun barely sets; but it was August already, three quarters of an hour before midnight, and dusk had at last arrived. Still dazed, I emerged blinking into the brightly-lit Vosstaniya Square. In front of me stood a magnificent station building. Huge shining white letters atop it announced MOSKOVSKY RAIL TERMINAL. On the opposite side of the square, more than the length of a football field away, was a six-story residential building, all white stucco and Neoclassical columns and porticoes. Equally large and bright letters informed arriving rail passengers: HERO-CITY LENINGRAD. Further along, on Nevsky Prospekt, a million steps thrummed constantly on the pavement. At every intersection, the crosswalks counted down the seconds, on red just as on green, a never-ending heartbeat block after block; and the scent of this enigmatic, crazy, but incredible girl remained with me all the way.
In this reverie I eventually reached my hotel, by which time the text exchange below had begun. I will reproduce excerpts from it, because it contains clues on how she sees men and on her sexual proclivities. Where details are omitted, they have been replaced, as before, with an ellipsis (...). My hotel on the Fontanka Embankment had a lovely en suite restaurant, where breakfast was served to the guests, and where this night I sat and ordered tea before returning to my room, and continued my correspondence with this beauty, which lasted for another two hours immediately following our date.
M: Did you get home safely, Botticelli?
B: I took a roundabout route to avoid two patrol checkpoints. The traffic police wouldn't have appreciated my speed, and I don't like driving slowly ) ...
M: I noticed, when I saw you drive off
I told you to take care of yourself B: That was slow by my standards ...
M: You need a firm hand and, where necessary, punishment, it's the only way
B: I prefer to be a Mistress
...M: Not necessarily. You will find out for yourself one day
B: I've tried that, didn't like it
I myself am like a punishment for a man M: I don't dare to think, your poor other suitors
B: Don't pity them too soon
M: ... Clearly the right guy hasn't come along yet
B: I go to Shibari kinky parties, it's not the same, I like to be in charge of the process and not just participate )
M: I'll need to Google that
At this point I was starting to reconsider whether I really wanted to know this person better. Before the above exchange, which set me well and truly on edge, at the restaurant she had started telling me about her practice of standing on a bed of nails in order to improve concentration and think through problems clearly, which had made me extremely uncomfortable and forced me to change the subject. Here was a beautiful young woman, clean-cut, well-dressed, sober, clearly intelligent, highly communicative, with excellent social skills, and no apparent signs of mental illness that I could detect, suddenly out of nowhere talking about what seemed suspiciously like self-harm.
I had set it aside despite lingering doubts, but barely two hours later, in the text exchange above, she was now again alluding to extremely dubious practices, and this time harder ones to ignore, since they impacted sexual relations directly. Even leaving the squalor of it all completely aside, what exactly is one supposed to do in the bedroom as a man, if the woman wants to be a Mistress? Fight it out with her for the right to take the leading role? No thanks. What sort of a man does a Mistress even need?
So I tried, in vain, to wrest control, and scolded her for apparently texting, to my genuine concern, from behind the wheel of an automobile:
B: I want to take this opportunity to compliment you on your vocabulary and knowledge of Russian! ) Wow! )
M: Are you parked at the car wash?
B: No, I'm waiting at a stop light
M: That simply won't do, you can start texting me again when you arrive at the car wash
B: Oh, please
cut out the daddy impression )))M: My mind works slowly. If I give up the father-figure role, I need to find an alternative, and that could take me several years and you won't wait that long
She laughs at that. Many a true word spoken in jest: I really am struggling to find the right archetype for dating these younger women, and I have no doubt she is right that the current approach is somewhat unhealthy. In the same vein:
M: And besides, you're a treasure, and I feel responsible for your security, even if I shouldn't, objectively speaking.
B: This type of remark makes me feel like a Pomeranian left tied up outside a store, its owner concerned about its safety, while at heart I'm a Dobermann Pinscher
M: A very apropos metaphor, and I appreciate you helping me to understand your feelings. But what troubles me most is that I don't know how you DO want to feel! Maybe you can drop a hint from time to time
B: You can ask me questions by word of mouth, and receive an honest answer, but whether you're prepared to hear it is another matter.
I promised to bring it up again the next time we met face-to-face, and indeed I did not forget, raising it again six months later in Türkiye. To continue:
B: I feel like a fox terrier, compact, but nonetheless a hunter
M: Ha yes!
A very apposite comparison. But it will not bite the one who tames it B: My nature is to be the tamer, and not the beast )))
M: I don't doubt it. But in the end, I assume that you need positive containment, at least in some measure, in order to be happy. But you have plenty of time, and meanwhile you can tame others to your heart's content
B: Why try to contain the storm? )
M: You know, despite the obvious incompatibility of our characters, such remarks from you don't discourage me in the least; in fact I see them as a challenge
but I think you know that, and are doing it on purpose B: Try to calm the storm and it will redouble its force. Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't need a "daddy" in a relationship ) That doesn't attract me sexually: I have a very beloved father, and that spot is, shall we say, taken. There's room in my life for a partner only )))
I am still struggling with what exactly her concept of "partner" is. There was another, lighter exchange that night worth including here:
B: No one waylaid you on the way back, I hope? )
M:
B: Well, who knows? A handsome man like you could get abducted. Perhaps someone is building a harem of men
It was good to get a compliment from this woman, even if it was expressed with feminine subtlety!
Part Three: Türkiye, February 2024
Over the next few months, we were occasionally in touch, but until December 2023 there was little of note in our text exchanges. That suddenly changed when she texted me out of the blue that she was in Dubai, and, if I happened to be free, I should come over and join her! Well, I didn't happen to be free at that kind of notice, in fact I had plans to visit my mother for Christmas, among other things, so I respectfully declined, but suggested that we should make plans to see each other at the earliest mutually convenient opportunity.
Over the following days we chatted quite a lot over text, and somehow we alighted on the topic of clothing, whereupon I retroactively complimented her on the cobalt blue dress she had worn to our date in Saint Petersburg last August. I have lightly edited the following exchange for clarity and brevity:
B: Haha Marty, you're up to your old tricks again )
M: Moi? So many things about you spark my curiosity.
B: For example? )
M: [lists various qualities] And to cap it all, every conversation with you creates another riddle to solve. There, you see, I've revealed to you the secret of your effect on me
talk about fishing for compliments B: Do I have an effect on you? ) How curious )))
M: Oh that's good, I like that
don't you see it? Or do you just want the pleasure of hearing it yet again? I'd rather show you, let's see what we can do when we next meet B: I guess I didn't notice, since we haven't had too many in-person meetings ) Sounds good )
I ended up sending her some flowers (after eventually overcoming the best efforts of Western payment card providers to stop me buying anything from Russian merchants), and over the next several weeks, we discussed, among other things, the location of our next meeting. Significantly, she made clear to me that while the idea of repeating my earlier visit, in a different season, and inviting her on a night out again was all well and good, it wasn't really escalatory and didn't take matters further fast enough. She believed that we would get to know each other better if we spent several days in each others' constant company, and I was inclined to agree. So after eliminating a few other possibilities for practical reasons, we settled on a trip to Türkiye. She sent me the following WhatsApp messages that I consider important in this context:
B: Listen, I want to visit lots of locations and share our impressions. The point is to communicate and do things together, not just to see the sights
That is, to spend time together, as I see itB: In essence, I regard this trip as an extended date and I would like to spend more time together )
And in the event, aside from sleeping hours and the occasional retreat to our hotel rooms to get changed, we did indeed spend the entire 5-night trip constantly in each other's company.
The testing started almost immediately after we met at Istanbul Airport. I called the cab company and described where we were standing and our appearance, to make it easier for the dispatcher to find us. When I got off the call, Botticelli remarked: "Actually, my sweater isn't green, it's mint-colored." I explained, to her giggles, that (a) English wasn't the taxi-driver's first language; (b) in his profession as taxi-driver, he was most likely unaccustomed to such subtle distinctions; (c) he was a man, ditto; (d) I use different language when complimenting a woman on her dress choices and when speaking to a male taxi-driver in an unfamiliar country; and (e) I nonetheless appreciated her bringing it to my attention.
We had planned two nights in Istanbul, two nights in Izmir including a trip to an interesting site from Classical Antiquity out-of-town, and one last night in Istanbul again before departing for home. I will spare the reader the touristic details, focusing instead on the parts of the interaction relevant to our relations. I hope that this practice will explain any discontinuity in the narrative.
The first night, after an intense conversation over dinner on the rooftop terrace of a delightful restaurant, we walked a little in Fatih before returning to our hotel in Beyoğlu. We agreed that we would exchange gifts in my hotel room. This was relatively uneventful, but I include it because of the importance attached to isolating together at a private location described extensively in many of the articles on this site. She was thrilled with the items I had bought for her, including a purse, an eau de parfum, and some make-up brushes. What I hadn't been expecting were her own gifts to me: a fine lacquer box and handmade wooden coasters, both painted in a traditional design, and a beautifully-decorated tin of delicious apple cookies, all brought with her from Russia. I kissed her goodnight on the cheek, and she returned to her own room.
The second day, we visited several tourist sites culminating with the Topkapı Palace. As we walked down a steep incline from the Haseki Sultan Complex, where the sidewalk was very narrow, vehicles were passing at quite dangerous speeds. I asked her to take the nearside, closest to the buildings, so that she would not be exposed to this hazard. She told me she preferred taking my other arm, and after some remonstration from my side, she complained with a dry smile that I "showed signs of being too controlling".
I found it difficult to tell whether she was entirely in earnest on this point. She had begun a running joke with me that "a witch and fairy differ only in mood", offering at my request several formulae for turning the one into the other, such as provision of coffee first thing in the morning, etc. Later in the vacation, I mischievously suggested that I should like to see her "witch-side", as it might excite me. At this she remarked, sardonically and in a sort of stage whisper, as if to a nonexistent bystander, "Oh look, now he's showing signs of masochism", and seeing my presumably crestfallen expression quickly followed up with "I'm just kidding". Therefore, it is quite possible that the above remark about my suspected controlling nature was also in jest.
Be that as it may, now, in the taxi ride to the next destination, the subject of controlling personalities formed a natural continuation to our conversation. Sooner or later, in a repetition of the pattern I had seen after our Saint Petersburg date, she steered the discourse in a direction I found uncomfortable. After expounding a personal theory of hers that people who struggle to exert control over their occupational lives tend to become more controlling at home, and that by contrast those who enjoy massive material success tend to want their significant other to take the reins in their personal lives—a theory, by the way, that I find highly dubious and ungrounded in real-world evidence—she returned, unbelievably, to the subject of physical restraint in the bedroom. She praised it as a means of voluntarily ceding control. I responded with great skepticism, pointing out that the process is by its very nature nonconsensual, since the victim once restrained cannot resist any undesired act. She started talking about safewords and the like, at which I expressed yet stronger skepticism; but fortunately we were "saved by the bell", as our imminent arrival at the Süleymaniye Mosque, thankfully, provided me the opportunity to cut this unproductive and frankly abhorrent discussion short. I made a joke about the irony of discussing kink while arriving at a place of worship, we both laughed, and the tension finally broke.
The last tourist destination of the day was the Topkapı Palace, a very romantic location for a two-hour stroll, and when finished we found another rooftop terrace for a late luncheon. We had a table in the corner, lit by the setting sun, and though Botticelli hadn't initially wanted to photograph herself, when I told her how beautiful she looked in the gold-red light, she took a lovely selfie, and later shared it with me, thanking me for persuading her to take it, and even started using it as her WhatsApp profile photo.
After some time apart for rest and relaxation, and then going out together to grab a late bite to eat, near midnight we agreed that Botticelli would come to my room to play a game together. She had brought with her some cards with questions that could be used to get to know a person better, by taking turns to ask and giving an honest response. Having read somewhere on this site, a very long time ago, that it is good practice to ensure there is nowhere to sit other than the bed, I placed my hand baggage on the only stool available.
Botticelli came in, exclaimed briefly that I was already in home clothes, and took a seat near the foot of the bed, while I rested against the headboard. During the game, I did invite her to come closer, if she wanted, but she declined. The game proved to be a good means of getting to know each other more deeply, and we parted on a high note.
The third day we took a domestic flight to Izmir, and after checking into our hotel rooms, Botticelli delighted me by asking whether she should curl her hair freshly for me, and even sent me a short video when it was ready as a sneak preview before we reconvened for the afternoon. We took a stroll on the beautiful Aegean Sea embankment there, as well as a boat trip to a neighboring district and back. After dinner we saw the "Ascenseur" early 20th century city elevator and the magnificent nighttime view from the upper station.
On the morning of the fourth day, while still sitting at the breakfast table, I confronted Botticelli. Her tone with me the previous evening had become tetchy—she had proposed some activities that were unrealistic given our timelines, afterward blaming me for not telling her immediately that I wasn't on board, implying that if I had been clearer she might have saved time investigating them; as well as putting me in what I saw as an embarrassing situation at one point—and I wanted to clarify matters between us. I asked her point blank what her intentions toward me were, as I felt I was being subjected to a cat-and-mouse game and was unsure of her genuine interest.
While she took exception to my criticism of her activity the previous day, she appeared to appreciate the directness of the latter question, and told me that she liked me as a man and found me attractive. She said that she was currently unattached, and that she was happy with her day-to-day life, her apartment, her profession, her pets, and wasn't looking to make a major change, but wanted a man to spend romantic time with. While she found me superficially attractive, she needed to know that we could get along with each other, hence the plan to spend several days in succession together. I was delighted to hear of her conception of a relationship that allowed space for personal lives, as it fit very much with my own current preferences. (The following day, during a conversation about each of our past romantic experiences, she added that she wasn't currently looking to get married or move in with anyone, hence her tendency to date men of my age who have already had children and would therefore more likely be okay with that setup.)
This interaction was cathartic and set the tone for a memorable, perfect day. It suddenly felt as if we were the closest of allies. We were to visit an ancient Classical site outside the city in the afternoon, and Botticelli wanted to make an offering to the Greek goddess to whom the site was a shrine, that included four candles of different colors. In the morning, we wandered the market seeking out these candles as well as some souvenirs for relatives back home. Luck seemed to be with us that day, as we found a white candle first, fairly easily, in a regular tourist store; maybe a half-hour later, a red and a blue candle in a dark, mysterious local emporium; and finally a yellow candle, of the same size and shape as the first three, at an outdoor stall with a jocular owner who seemed delighted by our custom. This gradual process, lit by winter sunshine, formed a natural crescendo that built up a close emotional connection.
After a romantic and very scenic lunch at a winter garden restaurant on the Aegean embankment, we met our car and driver at our hotel for our journey to the shrine. Botticelli's contribution to the organization of this five-night vacation had been to find and agree terms with this excellent fellow, whose wife was Russian and who therefore spoke reasonable Russian, enabling us to communicate with him easily. This provided for an interesting dynamic. The three of us chatted on and off during the journey, but the driver needed to stop for gas once on each of the outbound and return segments. In each case, while he was refueling, Botticelli and I spent a few minutes "reconnecting" one-to-one at the rest stop, and again, this feeling of being "allies" returned.
Once more, luck was on our side that day; Botticelli had wanted to make the offering to the goddess shortly before dusk (for reasons best understood by herself!)—hence our postponement of the trip until the afternoon—yet as we finally arrived at the location, we saw the caretaker leaving on his bicycle, presumably headed home, having just locked up. Our wonderful driver wound down the window and spoke with him in Turkish while we waited with anticipation. In return for my "making it worth his while", he unlocked the site again and gave us a personal tour. This caretaker, who looked only slightly less ancient than the site itself, turned out to be quite a character. It seems that honoring of this Ancient Greek goddess has become quite a trend among Russian women of a certain persuasion, and while Botticelli was busy with her candles at the altar, I discreetly led away our driver and the elderly caretaker, who had started talking loudly, so that they would not disturb her, and he showed me photos of dozens of female Russian "friends" he had made in his phone contacts, our driver rapidly translating for me through suppressed guffaws. Sure enough, he asked for Botticelli's number or Instagram or something before we left, and she told me he started bombarding her too with direct messages shortly afterward!
Back in Izmir after nightfall, the day finished as perfectly as it had begun, with dinner at a rooftop terrace restaurant overlooking the Aegean and with a magnificent view of the famous Konak Square, lit up in bright colors.
Next Steps
I would like to know how I could add a touch of romance and intimacy to our currently rather dry interactions. As far as kino is concerned, she always took my arm when we walked anywhere together, and I often rested my hand on her thigh to add closeness during intense conversations in restaurants or taxis, or put my arm around her to keep her warm on the boat; but I never touched the more intimate areas such as belly or face, let alone breasts or derrière. I don't know whether she is interested in sex, or indeed in sex with me—I know that many women have little in the way of sex drive—but it would be good to kiss, for example. She told me several times that she finds me attractive as a man, but I don't yet see evidence of her words in her actions. It would be good also to make something a little more loving happen when we are isolated alone, for example, for her to be able to rest in my arms when we played the card game with the questions would have been more gratifying.
In addition, I would like to know how better to overcome our natural differences in character so that our interactions become smoother. I notice that she sometimes breaks rapport over text, for example:
M: I like how you intentionally try to help me expand my Russian vocabulary
B: It's more that I just use the appropriate word and sometimes give a definition for the avoidance of misunderstanding
The above clarification seems quite unnecessary, she could have just let it ride. There are other, similar examples; perhaps she just has a pedantic personality and prefers always to tell the truth, but sometimes it feels to me that rapport is intentionally being broken.
As I mentioned at the beginning of the report, I will be extremely grateful for any words of wisdom from the more experienced members of the community, and will be happy to read everyone's comments and criticisms!
With thanks,
- Marty
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