Prostitute

Yesterday was Valentine's Day. In a country where every single holiday ever conceived (and not conceived) is celebrated, one can only imagine the celebrating that goes on for an internationally recognized holiday closely related to the Catholic and associated Orthodox churches. Yeah, surprisingly immoral.

The events of yesterday were at once hilarious and emotionally scarring. Before dinner time my friend and I had some time to go door to door and offer a short message about our Church. We arrived on the selected apartment complex and climbed the five flights of stairs to the top floor. After the first four doors yielded no answers, we were surprised to be invited in very quickly by a 40 year-old woman in the fifth door, before we even had an opportunity to introduce who we were and what we were doing.

The woman told us to wait in the entry while she finished her phone call. I was a little confused because usually people aren't very nice about just letting us in the door like that, and I was trying to think what this woman's motives could be.

She had us come into the kitchen and she turned on some loud music. We all got acquainted and she abruptly told us she wasn't interested in our Church but she wanted us to stay for a little while and talk to her. Lonely.

We obliged and she busted out photo albums of her black and white past. She wasn't all that bad looking in her younger years, but the harsh lifestyle she had been subjected to had definitely taken its toll. Rotted brown teeth, greasy short hair and skin weathered and wrinkled by cigarettes didn't result in the most pleasing image to the eyes. She kept asking us if we thought she was beautiful in the photos, and if we thought she looked horrible now. Low self esteem.

We avoided replying to such questions and kept smiling and nodding and trying to offer her our message. She turned up the music, picked up a glass jar full of what looked like toilet water from a public restroom and took a big swig. Drunk.

She grabbed my friend's head and kissed him on the forehead. The she put her hands on both of our necks and asked us to stay a little longer. At this point of our visit we decided it was in our interest to leave. As she saw us trying to leave she desperately attempted to stop us, telling us she wanted our help. We offered her the help that comes through living the teachings of the Savior. She didn't really want that.

As we gathered our things in the entry way she backed my friend up against a wall and asked him to kiss her. Alarmed, I rushed in as her nasty puckered lips moved only inches away from his lips. I grabbed her arm, pushing her away and yelled "Woman! No!" Such is my broken Russian. After freeing my friend from her assailant she pleaded with him to give her a kiss.

"We don't do that kind of stuff," he replied.

Offended, she yelled at us, "What?! Am I a prostitute?!"

"We just don't do that kind of stuff!" he shot back.

"How do you open this door?!" I asked, frantically messing with the many knobs and buttons that are so typical of Ukrainian doors.

She opened the door for us and we exited the apartment, followed quickly by a loud four letter expletive (that rhymes with duck) and the slam of her door. Feeling somewhat violated by our lonely, drunk acquaintance with low self-esteem, we decided to go home.