Going 40 Days. Day 20- The Reaction from Chelsea

Well, I have an update about my much-ballyhooed 40-day abstention project and Chelsea... (whom you might recall as the Number Nine woman.)

Oh, someone tried to lead me into temptation by sending me a few bikini pictures a few days ago...

(I didn't like this suit's color-scheme. Too pastel for my taste.)

I was tempted into masturbating, but I have very good self-control. All I had to do was dunk my head into a sink-full of ice cubes a few times, and I was fine.

Anyways, I went to visit Brother at college the other day. We were planning to watch all 17 episodes of "The Prisoner" back-to-back on DVD. (Such an act is bad for the eyes, unless you have your blood fortified with plenty of Mike's Hard Lemonade the entire time. Patrick McGoohan is the man.) But... how would Chelsea react when I'd tell her that I was going 40 days without sexual contact? I mean, if there was one woman in my life who'd try to pull sexy shenanigans on me to lead me into temptation, it would be Chelsea, right?

Before we began the Prisoner-o-thon, Jackie (Brother's other room-mate) needed to stop-by at her office cubicle at one of the university administration buildings to take-care of some errands before the building closed for the weekend. I was asked to drive her as Brother was busy cleaning the apartment; Chelsea hadn't come home from classes yet. On the drive-over to her office building, Jackie turned to me.

"Hey, your Brother told me you studied Russian in high school. Is that right?"

"Yup." I nodded. "And some in college, too." However, I think my Russian is so piss-poor that I don't tell too many people that I used to study it. I almost never get to use it nowadays.

"One of the receptionists in my building is from there. Maybe you could talk to her while you wait for me?"

"Well, I don't think my Russian is too great, but I might try to practice if she'll let me."

I accompany Jackie into her building. As we walk-in to the reception area, I notice one of the women there is in her mid-40's. She's somewhat plump and is wearing a dun-colored sweater and look-over glasses. The nameplate on her desk says "Lyudmila Konavalov". I grin. That's gotta be her.

I walk-over to Lyudmila while Jackie starts rooting-around in her desk, collecting papers and computer disks.

"Hi. I'm a friend of Jackie's." I say, gesturing with my thumb over at her.

"Oh. Hello." Lyudmila replied with a distinctly-accented voice.

"Do you mind if I ask: gdye vyi uchyus' v Rossiye?" (Where did you grow-up in Russia?) Yeah, I felt-like showing-off in front of Jackie. I looked-over out of the corner of my eye, and indeed, Jackie was looking-on, interested. Ooh, aren't I tho thmart?

"You speak Russian?" She asked, surprised.

I replied with a quick "Da. Ne mnozhka." (Yes. A bit.) I hold-up my thumb and forefinger as if to indicate 'a bit.'

"You asked me where used to I live?" She asked. "V gorodye Petrozavodsk." (In the city of Petrozavodsk.)

I clucked my tongue and looked at the ceiling. "Hmm, Petrozavodsk... eto nakhoditsa v severye, pravilno?" (Hmm, Petrozavodsk... it's located in the north, right?)

She nodded. "Da, okolo Sankt Peterburg." (Yes, near St. Petersburg.)

I asked: "Ya dumayu shto 'Petrozavodsk' po-Anglisski mozhet byit'... eto 'Peter's factory', da?" (I think that 'Petrozavodsk' in English might be... it's 'Peter's factory', yes?)

"Pravilno." (Right.)

I smiled. Probably a reference to Peter the Great. When he wasn't flogging his son to death and shaving-off his ministers' beards, he was building armories all over Russia back in the 1700s. Ahh, I love Russian history. "Kakoi zavod? Ryuzhyi?" (What kind of factory? Rifles?)

"Pushki." (Cannons.)

I chuckled and rubbed my chin-stubble with my thumb. "Ahh, koneshno! Eti mnogo lushche. Pyotr Beliki, on nemalo znal' kak stroit pushki." (Ahh, of course! Those are much better. Peter the Great, he knew quite a bit about building cannons.) I switched back to English. "Thank you for helping me practice. I think I forgot a lot." And I think I made some grammar mistakes just then, too. But Jackie will never know.

"Oh, no, you speak very well." She turns to Jackie. "He speaks very well!" She was probably being polite.

"NiceGuy and his crazy moon-man language." Jackie quips while closing her desk drawers.

Pretending to ignore Jackie, I shook my head and spoke in the fastest, most fluent-sounding way I could muster: "Nyet, ne khorosho. Dla menya eto ochen' trudno, potemu shto moi aktsent plokho i u menya nyet mnogo praktika." I shrug casually. Ugh, my Russian sucks. (No, not well. For me it's very difficult, because my accent is bad and I don't have much practice.) "Bozhe moi, ya zabyil' mnogo, mnogo... stuff." (My God, I forgot a lot, a lot of... stuff.) I added, as I ineffectually waved my hands in front of me.

Ugh, and I probably made a few more grammar mistakes in that sentence, besides.

"Tyi nekogda byil' v Rossiye?" (Have you never been to Russia?) Lyudmila asked. I nod. In 1993, I won a one-week trip to St. Petersburg and Moscow by coming first-place in a statewide Russian-language essay contest in my senior year of high school.

"Ne mnogo, ya putoshestvoval v gorodye Sankt Petrburg. Ya dumayu shto eto samyi krasiviye gorod v Rossiye. Ochen' krasivaya arkhitektura i interestniye dostoprimachachilnostei. Kogda ya vidil izkustvyi muzei Ermitazh, menye ochen impressiye." (A little, I went sightseeing in the city of St. Petersburg. I think it's the most beautiful city in Russia. Very beautiful architecture and interesting landmarks. When I saw the Hermitage art museum, I was very impressed.) Ugh, I know my grammar sucks now. I turn to look at Jackie. She looks a little impatient; I think she's ready to go. "I'm a big, pretentious show-off, aren't I?" I say to her.

"Yeah, I was just thinking that." She nods.

Lyudmila is still talking to me. "Prekrasno. Ochen' prekrasno." (Wonderful. Very wonderful.) She leaned forwards. "Tyi zhenat'?" (Are you married?)

I shook my head. "Ah, nyet. Ya ne zhenat'." (Ah, no. I'm not married.)

"If you're a friend of Jackie, you must be a nice guy." She switched to English and took-off her glasses. "I know a girl who moved here from Russia not long ago. She's 24. I think she really might like to meet someone like you. She's from Samara and she's very pretty. Maybe you could find time to practice with her?"

I chuckled. "Oh, that's very nice of you, but I don't come to town often. So I probably won't be able to meet her. Thank you for offering, though." I waved. "Do svidanya."

"Let's get going..." Jackie starts to walk-out. "Sheesh. You just have to make me feel dumb, dontcha?"

"Da!" I smile.

Driving Back

I'm a little bit refreshed that my Russian has maintained some semblance of understandable proficiency. Hmm... If I wasn't moving to Japan and lived a bit closer to town, I might've seriously given thought to having Lyudmila set me-up with this Russian girl. If she's indeed fresh-off the boat, she hasn't had enough time to be corrupted by toxic influence of women in the U.S.

I grinned at the thought. Could she maybe teach me how to make Ukrainian dumplings or something? I tried dating a Russian girl in college once (she was from Irkutsk, in Siberia), and she was very sweet. But she also said she wasn't looking for a boyfriend at that point in time. (Or maybe I didn't meet her standards and it was her way of rejecting me nicely? I'll never know.) Her accent was very seductive-sounding, though. I guess I'm just a sucker for accented women. Hmm, I'm even getting an erection thinking about it. (Out of my head!)

Anyways, on the way back to Brother's house, I was wondering... I've got 20 days left in this 40-day abstention challenge. Can I get through the weekend without getting seduced by Chelsea? The last time I was here, Chelsea was very active in taking the sexual initiative. Hmm, would this be the first external challenge that I've faced so far? Would this be the first time I'd have to face... sexy shenanigans? (I hope, I hope!)

When I arrived at the apartment, Chelsea had come-back from her afternoon classes. I'd expected her to kiss me like she had the last few times I'd seen her.

But, Chelsea didn't kiss me.

"We should talk..." She said. Oh, great. What now?

Oh, The Usual

She walked into her bedroom and gestured for me to come. So I did. She closed the door and we both sat on her bed.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"I... I want you to know that..." She sighed. "I didn't want to get emotionally-attached to you. Because you were going away."

Aww, fudge. Where is this going? "I understand, and it's the same with me." I replied.

"I... boy, I feel like a cold bitch- I don't like emotional attachment. It makes me uncomfortable. I... I know this is going to make me sound bad or like a slut, and please don't let this hurt your feelings but..." She paused for five seconds. "I just wanted you for sex."

Oddly enough, I kind of knew that.

I smiled. "That's okay. I knew that I was going-away. And whenever I'm intimate with a woman, I usually get attached. I knew what I was getting into..."

"No no no, that's bad. I didn't want you to get attached to me. Why did you have sex with me if you knew you were going to get attached?" She looked genuinely concerned for my emotional well-being.

"It was a chance I was willing to take." I shrugged. "I thought you were very sexy and I wanted to be with you. You were irresistible. I couldn't help getting a little attached to you in the process, but that's the price I was willing to pay."

"I... when I first saw you, I really wanted you. I know this sounds kind of strange, but... I don't like it when a guy treats me special. I... I like it when a guy maybe even neglects me a little. Um, I mean... I hate it when guys get emotionally-attached to me because they start to treat me differently and I think..." She shrugs.

I held up my hand and interrupted. "Hey, I'm okay with this." Well, I kind of have to at least pretend to be okay with it.

"You are?"

"It's fine. I knew it wasn't meant to be the day I met you. But at the same time, I knew you were a woman who had a lot of special qualities. If I didn't at least try to see you naked, I knew that I'd have regretted not trying. You were a pleasure to be with. And you were great in bed."

"So were you! I mean... I really liked what we did. So... um, are you okay with what I said?" She asked nervously.

"Yes. Absolutely." I nodded. I have to be okay with what she said- I mean, I have no authority in this situation at all. What if I said I wasn't okay with it? Would she have reversed her decision? No. This illustrates my utter powerlessness in any sexual relationship with a woman. I'm totally at the mercy to her knee-jerk whims. "But I want you to know-" I continued, "...you have a lot of things that I find attractive in a woman."

"Oh, and you're a very great guy. I mean... you're really intelligent and thoughtful and you're a good conversationalist. You understand my sense of humor." She smirked mysteriously. "And you're really good in bed besides. I loved doing it with you." She looked at the floor. "But you're going away. And I never wanted to get emotionally-attached... you know... I didn't want to get tied-down with someone while I have my studies. I've got to stay here with my books and you- you're a traveling soul who can't stay in one place for long..."

"Well, I'm glad that you're feeling all right about this. So... um... does this mean that you won't be upset if we don't do it tonight?"

"Oh, no, I... I wouldn't feel comfortable doing it anyway." I mean, this dovetails with my decision to not have sex over the next month, doesn't it? Sigh.

"I see." Damn it. "Well, I suppose you won't get jealous if I get a girlfriend in Japan?"

She laughed. "Oh, go ahead! This one guy I know... he moved to Japan. He's a lot like you. He's very sweet, and he's also shy when it comes to sex. Anyways, based on the e-mails I get from him, it's like he's screwing every nineteen year-old girl over there!" She laughed.

Well, that sounds like something to look-forward to- if it'll actually happen. I asked if I could take a picture of her to Japan with me? She said no, that would be "too creepy."

Can't I just have a few sexy shenanigans in real life? Is that too much to ask for??

So... Twenty Days, is it?

That's it. Chelsea's officially off-limits now. And I was hoping that she wouldn't do this to me. Does she suck? I just don't know. She only wanted to screw me and leave me-- typical female! Groan. At least she didn't say the trite "let's just be friends" line- although she functionally meant the exact same thing.

Folks, let me say it now- if she said "let's just be friends", I cannot predict how I would've reacted. Seriously, I probably would've broken a window with my fist- so it's a damn good thing she didn't say it. When life gives you lemons... ugh, life gives me no sugar, no pitcher, no juicer, no water, no ice cubes, no glasses. How the hell am I supposed to make a jug of lemonade with this?! All I got is lemons! The best I can do is get a few handfuls of lemon-juice, seeds, rinds and pulp! That aint lemonade, it's a mess! And what happens when life gives you crap instead of lemons? What kind of frosty beverage can you make from that?? Ugh.

When I later privately asked Brother why she'd object to me having a picture of her- he told me that Chelsea thinks a lot of mundane things are "too creepy." Like when a slice of toast always seems to fall onto the floor with the marmalade-side facing down. Or when the heating ducts make a banging noise every so often. Or when people want to have a photo of her as a memento. Oooh, isn't that all just sooo freaking creepy?!?! (It's her issue, not mine.)

We watched all 17 episodes of "The Prisoner" without incident. And in between every other episode, we would talk a bit about common themes in twentieth-century world literature. Oh, sure, I had a massive hard-on raging in my jeans for about half the time I was with her, but I didn't even have to say that I wasn't going to have sex with her- she already decided that for me long before I even arrived. She didn't touch me apart from a casual hug when I left for home the next day. She wasn't going to pull any shenanigans, celibacy or not. Come to think of it, where is that Russian girl? I'm starting to think... nahh, I'm leaving the country soon.

Well, seeing as how I have lots of time not enduring sexy shenanigans, I'll have plenty of opportunities to ponder about the great questions of our time... like how did Pepé LePew avoid getting sued for harassment?

"Ahh, ze ezcape-game is not zo easy, no? My salad desires your balsamic vinaigrette, mon pétit chou-chou!"

Hah, this whole 40-day thing is going to be a snap, I tells ya! There is zero risk of any woman trying to lead me into temptation! Sheesh.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The itemised telephone bill ranks up there with suspender belts... as inventions women could do without." -- Maeve Haran, quoted in The Week (U.K.), 1 May 1999.

Back to Home