Анна Полосина - Winter Shoes for Cross-Country Running

Baldie once mentioned that he came to the agency following the call of his heart, for which he had to divorce urgently. The other reason was that a friend of his did so. “Has your friend found what he wanted?” I learned that after his divorce, the friend did not look for The One, but for many, which he did not keep secret. The agency even chided him for that, reminding him that they did not specialize in one-night-stands, and that the girls who were paying too, did not plan on amusing, for an evening, a man who did not even hide his polygamous preferences. To make a long story short, the friend did not hit it off with the agency. I wouldn’t be surprised if the friend was the Carrot King himself. I witnessed such candour in the matters of gender roles only once before, in an oil Siberian magnate. Foregoing any Brit preludes such as small talk, the Carrot King pelted Baldie with direct questions: “How many times have you met in England? This is your third date? Have you ever visited her in Moscow? No? And you really believe that she’ll have sex with you?” He did not ask this latter question, not aloud. He kept his outward manners. However, a timely pause implied it clearly enough. Not so quickly, Baldie replied with an affected laughter. He would go to Moscow in a month or so (his trust payments probably came in quarterly). I had wholehearted fun, finding an adaptor and converter who translated Baldie’s intentions from Russian to English and from women’s language to men’s one. The Carrot King went on with his solo: “What, haven’t you even sent her a car with a driver, to London? You do have the nerve, mate!” The myth of British gentlemen’s poetic in today’s materialistic world of love was dispelled. The touching naiveté and affected carelessness were just hiding their habit of not spending a penny in vain, and their certainty that nobody would take offence. To tell you the truth, I have always thought so.

Here, I should digress. I have a habit of offering a drink to my dates in my hotel. Before or after dinner. Or even in daytime. It was a sort of a test. The waiter always asks, “and you, are you staying in this hotel?” If the man just stares at me helplessly, I say: “Yes, of course,” and he fails the test. The right answer is: “No, but it is not a problem.” The man can also follow the waiter to explain the situation in private, or just look at him so that the waiter does not ask any questions and just brings the bill to the man. Only once, I liked the guy so much that when I saw the waiter approaching, I told my companion what I would like to drink and ran off to the loo like a coward. Truth is good but happiness is better.

But let’s return to Baldie and the Carrot King. After having a good fun at the expense of his friend, the Carrot King said that he would gladly join us at dinner in a Norfolk restaurant that evening, which he did, to Baldie’s displeasure. Carrot King won 2 goals to nil, making Baldie appear a complete idiot. Such was the result of Baldie’s attempt to boast the new gal before Carrot King, and his connections with Norfolk best people before me. I never saw Baldie again, or replied to his letters. Why would I bother? He had a good friend who could explain everything.

Non-members deserve a special chapter. A girl should be warned against them beforehand. To be warned is to be armed. A representative of the elite agency, hereafter called the Agency with Almost No Members, told me about that. Sometimes, she said, we suggest you also meet non-members. An owner of a polo club, millionaire and horse breeder, who was a member of her agency, invited her once to a polo match, where he introduced her to his friend, a millionaire and polo club owner, just like himself, and a handsome man. Your subconsciousness fully agrees that a good-looking man is most probably not a member. It’s only logical. The new friend tells the agency girl that he is single but not sure about the idea of finding his True Love via an agency. The agency representative is persistent in persuading him to come to a date or two with some choicest female members, to get an idea about the agency’s service. Who would predict the outcome of these test dates? Right you are! Both girls are charmed and eager to deepen the relationship. But our Childe Harold says that they are very nice but alas, not to his taste. My subconscious mind obligingly suggests: if he is available now, I may be the one for him! What about yours? The story is good, excellently told, the manipulation works like a charm. My respect. But, as the great Samantha from Sex and the City once said: “Good on paper, bad in bed.” Remember this: a non-member is a fellow whom the universe did not give any money to pay for the membership, but, as compensation, awarded with some extra confidence. Yes, it’s pathetic. Instead of a melancholy polo club owner who despairs to ever find a girl of his dreams in the throng of his groupies, you will be offered a head of a legal department from the City, a marketing consultant from an advertisement agency, a private events planner, or an orthopedist. There is no harm in all that, but you should keep in mind that the man can call and then disappear; invite you to a dinner date and then explain his reluctance to be a member by the fact that there are many more single men than single women; or ask a waiter to take away the nuts for three pounds, explaining that you won’t eat so much. I should tell you more about nuts. By then, I already learned all about this ruse of the agencies and rejected all the non-members’ advances at an early stage. The manager of the agency called me to plead for a man that, in her opinion, deserved an exception. He was really good, she told me, he could easily buy a membership and he was just looking around before making a final decision. A very famous lawyer, the internet is full of his speeches at various professional conferences and at the United Nations. Owner of an old mansion and a unique collection of paintings. Single, no children. He may be the very diamond in the dust that I may snatch from the Fate’s hands if I am lucky, before the jewel goes to retail. Could you resist? I was duped. The fellow was really young and not very repulsive. He worked in a well-known company and specialized in the defense of Bangladesh Talibs. He told me his unflattering opinion about the previous, less classy agency. He only had sex once during his year of membership, but it was in the first evening, when he met a girl who felt just as lonely as him. I asked if he ever tried to further this glorious encounter by sending some flowers to her home or work address. He regarded me as if I was nuts. I even felt awkward. Yes, I thought so. But still, I would think that selling one’s professional competence to the Taliban would call for more lavishness and extravagance, perhaps with a whiff of moral degradation. It just did not fit together with the boring frugality and detailed calculation of the quantity of sex per pound spent. I just can’t get rid of my en-grained romantic rudiments!

Interestingly enough, as long as I was in the Agency with Almost No Members, it seemed to me that the problem was my choice of the agency. Later, when I found the Almost Ideal Agency, with enough members who suited my expectations, I understood what caused the problems: it just was designed this way. My goal was not just finding a life mate. For that, I could use the internet, to make sure that I was not alone, and there were some superb male specimens who are just in the same circumstances as I. It was not that.

A while ago, I came up with a phrase: “To sell for nothing to buy for fortune and to make a bad marriage you shouldn’t be overtalented,” please point out my copy right when quoting. Well, the agency caters for those who are not ready to marry badly and are ready to pay for it. No, that’s not it, either.