Five years ago, I was working in downtown Manhattan at an insurance brokerage and was fairly unhappy. One day I got totally fed up, walked into my boss' office and quit - giving her like four months notice - I said "Listen, I'm not sure what I'm going to do with myself but I just don't want to do this anymore". In the following few months I lined up a job at a summer camp in the Catskills in upstate NY.
I got up to Frost Valley Summercamp as a 25 year old camp counselor, and I must say it was one of the better decisions that I have ever made. When I first got up there, I met this 23 year old Moldovan girl. Natashka. She was very hot, with an ass like J-LO and spoke very softly, if at all. You could tell she was kind of a tease - she knew mad dudes checked her out but acted like she was oblivious. She also claimed to be engaged but didn't wear a ring and, if pressed, sort of (but not really) admitted she wasn't.
Anyway, the summer went on and we became kind of friends. I definitely wanted to hit that but resigned myself to the unattainability of the ass. We continued to talk on a regular basis and flirted but I didn't really think much of it.
Toward the end the summer, the counselors played a secret valentine type thing and almost everyone joined - except me. While sitting by a campfire one night, my boss (who was my age and I was friends with) sat beside me and said, "Guess who is my secret valetine". It was Natashka. We briefly discussed her hotness and he said I could have the secret valentine thing if I wanted it and I decided, "Fuck it, I'm going to give this a real shot".
What followed was a high school courtship and romance, which even at 25 was quite enjoyable.
Over the next week, I left Natashka little presents - I picked some flowers and left them on her pillow, made a little clay person holding a note that said, in Russian, "Will you be my valentine?" and even broke out a bead ring proposing marriage (in Russian). During the week she repeatedly asked me if it was me and I denied it. On the last day, I revealed my identity and she was quite smitten. Later on that day I went by her 'village's' campfire - she was on duty so she had to sit there until 2 am. We talked for a while and after about an hour I made my move.
She was receptive and we - again, very high school - made out. It was dope. I proceeded to tell everyone that worked for me, my friends and boss. We all reveled in my attaining the seemingly unattainable.
Anyway, this little romance continued for about a week and I returned home to my parents house in Teaneck, NJ - an unemployed, close to broke 25 year old. Natashka was up at camp for another week for this other program but had asked if she could stay with me for a week after that and, I of course, agreed to have her stay with visions of wild Moldavan sex in my head.
She came and stayed and we had many makeout sessions with over the clothes groping. It was great for a while but I began to get frustrated with the limits she was imposing - claiming the 'boyfriend' excuse. This dance continued for the week and I began to be quite annoyed - annoyed that I couldn't bang this chick but at the same time, what I had wasn't that banging this chick. She, on the other hand, seemed to be very satisfied. She liked the attention, liked that I was trying to go further but also liked saying no.
Anyway, as many of us guys have felt, I felt like I was kind of getting played but at the same time still wanted to hook up and try to fuck her.
The sexual tension built.
I, now, must convey two things that occurred during the week that seemed insignicant at the time but are, nevertheless relevant:
- I took her to Manhattan almost every day in my parents 1999 Saturn and we often listened to the radio. One day the song "Lola" by The kinks came on and I sang along - even after the song ended. As we were walking down the street she lost it (now keep in mind she spoke very softly and infrequently as well as in this cute eastern European accent): "STOP IT!!! STOP IT!!! STOP SINGING THAT SONG!!!! I stopped for a while but would continue later on, she'd get annoyed - this continued all day.
- I don't think they have seat belts in Eastern Europe. My wonderful girlfriend who I love dearly and is much hotter and better in every way, Ioana, is from Romania (I seem to like Commies) and I often debate the merits of wearing a seatbelt in the backseat of the car. Natashka questioned the good of front seat seat belts, claiming that sometimes they do more harm than good. Please take a moment to scoff along with me.
My interview ended, and I called - she didn't answer. I went by my old job, hung out. I called again an hour later - no answer. I went by another place where I knew former colleagues and hung out - called again to no answer. Over the afternoon, I placed at least six or seven phone calls with no answer. I went from a little worried, to annoyed to irritated at this time.
I sat at AWD's apartment at about 7:30 and discussed the situation - I was pissed she had completely played me out but, at the same time, didn't want to leave her in the city. Eventually, AWD said to me "Fuck, you can't sit around here forever, let's just go back to Teaneck". I agreed and we left.
AWD and I took the bus back to Teaneck and I drove us to the local watering hole, Vinny O's where we met up with three friends whose names I, in the sake of maintaining their closely guarded anonymity, I shall change and if you don't know all of us it won't be funny. There was
The Angry Young Man, The Invisible Man and Beer on the Girl. We hung out and discussed the situation, agreeing that Natashka was a hot chick, but nonetheless was still playing me.
At about 9:30, she called Dave's phone. He handed it to me and I proceeded to have the following conversation:
- Natashka: Hi Luke it is Natashka
- LJT: Hey
- Natashka: I am in the city with John (I don't remember his real name).
- LJT: OK, so I assume you're staying there tonight.
- Natashka: No, I want to come stay with you.
- LJT: Well, you're there and it's late so just stay there.
- Natashka: No, I want to come home with you.
- LJT: Natashka, just stay there.
- Natshka: Please, I want to stay with you. Please come get me.
- LJT: Where are you?
- Natashka: Twenty Third Street and Third Avenue.
I was not happy, but felt somewhat obligated and, I admit, still wanted to fuck her despite my gripes. Adding to the situation, my friends could see I was considering getting her and began to taunt me. They said things like "You're a bitch!" and "Don't be a bitch!" and "I can't believe you're going to go get her, you bitch!" They were right. I knew they were right but my catholic guilt and my libido conspired against me.
- LJT: Take the four train up to 86th and Lexington, I'll pick you up there?
- Natashka: What? Where is that?
- LJT: John can tell you.
- John (get's on the phone): Hey
- LJT: Hey
- John: Can't you just pick her up here, it's right off of the FDR.
- LJT: No, tell her to get on the train.
- John: Please, just pick her up. It's not that far.
- Friends: YOU FUCKING LITTLE BITCH-ASS PUSSY!
- Inner self: YOU FUCKING LITTLE BITCH-ASS PUSSY!
- LJT: FINE
I walked out and got in the car and made my way to the car.
I recapped the whole situation in my head: this hot chick is hooking up with me but she's a fucking cock tease, she left me hanging ALL DAY, is hanging out with some other guy while I'm trying to have sex with her and now, NOW, I'M GOING TO PICK HER ON ON 23RD AND 3RD!!!!
"I AM SUCH A BITCH!!! I AM SUCH A FUCKING BITCH!!!", I screamed as I pounded my steering wheel and drove eastward on Route 4 toward the George Washington Bridge at about 85 miles an hour.
My anger built, I arrived at 23rd and 3rd much more quickly than is reasonable and called - "I'm pulling up, be outside", I told her.
I pulled up and there stood John and Natashka. We all knew I was very angy. They stood there with little smirks on their face, privately laughing at the situation.
She got in the car, gave me a little smile and softly said "Are you mad?"
"AM I MAD? I AM A FUCKING MAD? YES, YES NATASHKA I'M FUCKING MAD", I replied.
I slammed on the gas and we sped toward the first intersection - we stopped shortly at the light and she put on her seatbelt.
In total silence, with the exception of a very very low radio playing the local classic rock station, we pulled onto the FDR I drive.
I drove incredibly fast as I bobbed and weaved in and out of cars in a reckless manner.
She said not a word and I just continued to rage silently.
Then, something happened - "Lola", by the Kinks started with its recognizable opening guitarr riff.
I turned stereo up to full volume and she remained mute. We drove up the FDR not speaking at all with "Lola" blasting. Even in my rageful state, I found this situation quite hilarious and that really calmed me down. I took the car from close to 100 to a much more reasonable 60something and we drove back to Teaneck, still not speaking.
As we pulled off of Route 4, I pulled the car over and said "Look, I'm going to the bar with my friends you can either come or go home and sit with my parents - what do you want to do?" She said nothing, barely containing tears. "You can come with me or go home, what do you want to do?" Nothing. "Natashka, what do you want to do!" She mumbled something. "What!?" "I will come with you", she replied.
She was quite obviously shaken.
I didn't even remotely care.
We drove to Vinny O's and parked. As I was getting up, I saw she wasn't doing the same?
"Are you coming?" I asked. "I will stay here", she replied. "What??" I asked again. "I want to stay here" she said, again. "ARE YOU GOING TO GO ANYWHERE?" "No", she said.
"FINE", I shouted and slammed the door. After about five steps I remembered I had left my cell phone in the car. As opened the door, I saw her sitting there, crying quietly. "I forgot my cell phone" I said, tersely as I grabbed my phone out of the center console and again slammed the door.
In the bar I relayed this store to the group and, in doing so, reclaimed some of my masculinity even though we all agreed on my bitch-hood. After about twenty minutes, Beer On The Girl, said he wanted to go check on her.
He went and a few minutes later I decided I should go talk to her.
I passed BOTG on the way out - he was returning from the car I was going to and he laughed and said, "I told her to come in the bar and she was she couldn't because I am being punished". We both laughed and I continued on to the car.
I got in the car and said "Listen Natshka, I'm sorry about losing my temper just like I'm sure you're sorry for not returning my phone calls for seven hours today."
She agreed to come in the bar and stayed for a few hours.
Later on that night and the rest of the week we continued our making out and that Sunday, I drove her to JFK and put her on a plane back home.