Der Vorgang 17461
tatyanamail@emaillcorp.site
Tatyana
Der erste Kontakt 17461
Anzahl der Mails: 4
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| Hi I hope, you very well feel yourself?
I am very happy to hear from you)) I m sorry I couldn t answer immediately. There was a lot of work. The first letter I wrote to you was from a services, where I received your email. Please don t write there again, I don t have access to it. I am currently writing from my personal(work) email address, where I can start a conversation with you. I will be very glad that you will answer me sooner))) And we will be able to learn more about each other. I have to work now. I will wait for your response and your photo, will respond to you immediately. I ll send you a photo in the next email. I hope you understand and wish you a great day:)) Your Tatyana. |
| Dear Tatyana, it was late morning, and I was putting up a fresh pot of coffee when I heard the first meow. It sounded awfully close, as if from inside the apartment instead of the backyard one story down. Then I heard it again, and there was no doubt.
WTF?!! I texted my roommate. You got a cat?! I’d made it clear when she moved in: no pets. “But I want a kitty so bad,� she said a couple weeks later. I suffer from allergies � through spring and summer I have a persistent itch in my nostrils, and the lightest bit of pollen or dander or even a freshly mowed lawn sets off sneezing spells that leave my entire body sore. I was also concerned about the smell. And besides, the landlord forbade pets. It’s a friend’s, Jenny texted back. I’m only taking care of it for a few months. Don’t give me that bullshit, I keyed my reply, then backspaced over it, reconsidering. I have a tendency to overreact, to exacerbate conflict. Instead I went for calm and firm, and maybe slightly paternal. We need to talk. Later that afternoon, in the kitchen between our bedrooms, we talked, leaning on opposite counters. Jenny (not her real name) kept her eyes downcast, and when I told her she was being inconsiderate and disrespectful and this was not the way grown-ups behaved, she said, “I know. I’m sorry.� I’d expected an argument, but her posture was one of submission, as if I was her dad, or a schoolteacher. But I wasn’t her dad, and she was an adult woman, even if I was twice her age. I was left somewhat unsettled. In the end, I told her she could keep the cat, but she better take care of it properly. “Thanks for not being hard on me,� she said, before disappearing back into her room. “I thought you were going to kick me out or something.� That conversation was the longest we’d ever had. We were unlikely roommates, a Craigslist arrangement: I, a near-middle-aged man, several years divorced, with adolescent children of my own. She, a twenty-year-old recent college grad. We were living in Gravesend, an unremarkable neighborhood in a remote part of Brooklyn, where restaurants, bars and coffee shops are scarce, and when the friend I’d been living with moved out, finding a new roommate wasn’t easy. At first, I had a parade of eccentrics, men who seemed to have something to hide, smelling of whiskey, with slurred speech, crooked teeth, telling me about jobs as investment bankers or corporate accountants, claims I found dubious. One man, a flashy young Georgian, took one look at the room and grew alarmingly aggressive as he tried to force his cash deposit into my hand, even after I explained that I wasn’t ready to make a decision just yet. He left just as I was about to call the cops. So when Jenny showed up, I was inclined to like her. She looked like a typical post-college young woman: hair dyed reddish-blond, large earmuff headphones over her ears. She walked with a kind of childish languor, as if it hadn’t fully settled in that she was an adult. Her speech tended to the monosyllabic. I showed her the room. “Sweet,� she said. I showed her the bathroom. “Sweet.� Then she asked what she needed for moving in, and I told her: proof of employment, credit report, rent plus security deposit. “Sweet,� she said. I assumed this meant she had all those things, and at first, it appeared that she did. She told me she worked two jobs, as a clerk in a stationary store in Midtown Manhattan and as an art-school model. Several days later, she brought documents attesting to her claims, and it all seemed to check out. She moved in a couple weeks later, with the help of her dad, whom I found affable in a way that put me further at ease. Some time after she moved in, I met her boyfriend, who seemed about my age. “He’s an artist,� she told me afterward, unsolicited, as if that explained something. I did have some mild concerns. I wondered why she would choose to live here � a part of town where she had no friends or family � and with me, a man twice her age. But I needed a roommate, and for the most part, she matched my criteria: stable enough to pay rent, normal enough not to stab me with a kitchen knife or steal my meager possessions. She wanted to be a writer and filmmaker, she said, and was hoping to get into NYU’s film school for graduate studies. There was something familiar about her, almost bland, like an unremarkable extra who might appear repeatedly in so many movies, which meant she was safe and normal and predictable � exactly what I needed if I was to share my home with a stranger. It was soon after the cat incident that I began to notice she was home more. In fact, she rarely seemed to leave her room. On days I worked from home, I’d hear her throughout the day, in short bursts of action � the turning of the microwave at ten, the fridge opening and closing at eleven, the doorbell with her lunch order at noon. It didn’t bother me; I barely caught glimpses of her. If she’d lost her jobs, it didn’t show so far: She was always on time with rent, and she appeared to have enough money to buy groceries and order in meals. But I wondered, if she wasn’t going to work, how was she supporting herself? One afternoon, a couple weeks after Jenny took in the cat, I heard her voice and then a male voice I did not recognize. It was definitely not her boyfriend, whose voice was high-pitched; this one was deep, almost gruff. I was in my room, working, and I heard someone enter the bathroom, and then the toilet flush, and so I opened my door a crack for a glance. In the hallway, emerging from the bathroom, was a short, squat man, gray-haired with a bald temple. The man disappeared into Jenny’s room across the hall, and I felt a rush in my brain and gave an involuntary gasp. There weren’t too many scenarios for why a young woman would be entertaining a vaguely Soviet-looking gentleman who looked to be about her father’s age. I felt a kind of indescribable rage, almost like a personal affront. How dare she � in my home?! An hour later, I watched her escort the man to the door. She was wearing blue suede pumps and a very short, ivory-colored dress, somewhat crumpled, as if she’d just removed it from under a pile of laundry. She appeared to be going for a sultry, long-legged look, but she looked instead like a little girl wearing her mother’s discarded clothes. I felt instantly sad for her, and part of me wondered if I shouldn’t offer to help her somehow. Another part of me was so angry I wanted to evict her immediately. The rest of the day, I wrestled with my thoughts, my mind feverish with indecision: Should I say something? Should I tell her boyfriend? Should I call her dad? Was it any of my business anyway? I decided to wait, see if it happened again, and just a few days later, it did. This time, it was a tall black man wearing an ill-fitting suit and tie, like thrift-shop formalwear. He, too, emerged from the bathroom and disappeared into her room, and after an hour or so she escorted him to the door, again in the blue pumps and rumpled ivory dress. I took to Google: What to do if my roommate is a prostitute? More than what to do, I was seeking clarity on why it bothered me. Who was I to judge if Jenny chose an unorthodox profession? Why would I care if she used her room to ply her trade? Still, I couldn’t stomach the thought, and the Internet validated my discomfort. On Yahoo Answers and in Google Groups and various other forums people wrote about similar experiences, and the consensus was: Don’t let your roommate turn tricks within your home. It’s dangerous, it’s illegal, and it can bring nothing but trouble. I wondered about the practical aspects of her work: Does she have a Backpage ad? Did she use Craigslist? Could I find her on The Erotic Review? I imagined the conversation we’d have. “This isn’t a brothel!� I wanted to yell at her. “Where do you even find these guys?� Then I reconsidered, thinking I might speak to her in a more caring way. Sit her down for a talk. Maybe get some women’s organization involved. Point her in the right direction. Rescue her. Wolfgang |
| Good morning. Thanks, that you have answered my letter:))
To me it is very pleasant. To tell the truth, I at all do not know from what to begin my letter. If you not against, I tell a little about myself. The thought on acquaintance on the Internet has appeared at me unexpectedly. We with the girlfriend sat in cafe and drank tea. My girlfriend has told, that now acquaintance on the Internet more and more popularly among people and she has got acquainted with the husband on a site of acquaintances, her husband from Denmark. Now they are happy! They are an example for me that it is possible to find the happiness in the Internet. To tell the truth, I very much hesitate and in general I do not know what to write in the letter. I am not registered in social networks as me it never interested! My girlfriend has offered, that I exploited services. We went to the agency and I took up several profiles, but I decided to write to you alone. I do not know, as well as whence they take the information. For me it is the first experience of acquaintance in the Internet. If I girlfriend, I never would dare at this step! But now we can have dialogue. I long did not know as to write to you, but I have decided to make this step. Certainly I am confused a little and in general I do not know what to write in the letter! I wish to tell to you at once, that I search in the man. I hope for your decency and respect because I search for love and sincere relations. For me it is important, that the person would be kind, attentive and sympathetic. I think at you there are these qualities. It seems to me, that at us much in common! I wish to tell about myself that we could get acquainted with each other. I live in Russia, the city Kiselevsk. I never been married and do not have kids! I hope you correctly you understand me and my English language. I learn English from an early age. If you do not understand me, you can take advantage of the translator! You can look at my photo to see my physical data. My growth 172 cm, weight of 54 kgs. I have many interests. I like all new. At me good sense of humour. I think, that in the future you can be convinced of it. I was born on December, 25th, 1987! To me of 32 years. My sign on Zodiac Capricorn. What sign on the Zodiac at you? I will be glad to answer any questions which you interest. It is very interesting to me to learn more about you, about your life, interests and the country in which you live. If to you interestingly our acquaintance I wait for your letter and a photo))) All kind Tatyana. |
| Salutation:)
Such a pity there is no message from you. Did you get my last letter? I have sent my letter in which I have said about my hobbies. May be my letter has got in yours spam folder? Look there! I only want to tell you that I think of you and wait for your reply. Please, write me as soon as possible. I am waiting for your reply impatiently:))) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3gK_2XdjOdY Tatyana! |