I don't really know what happened after our mountain climb but I know that we got invited at night. The çocuk-yok test proved negative: our host to be had a wife, a child and a sister. With so many women under his roof the lad could not possibly be an asshole. Or can't he? Because it soon turned out that he had more affection for his lost love in Sochi, Russia than for his current wife.
He was an important construction worker in Sochi, he even built restaurants for the mayor and had an affair with his daugter. The daughter, being of muslim background wanted a muslim marriage so he told her to go fuck herself. Then, someone discovered that he was in Sochi illegaly and he asked his girlfriend for help. She told him to go fuck himself and he returned to Armenia. There, he mourned his lost love and fed his growing frustration.
Now, if I had to draw his womanly priorities, it would look like this: Sochi-girl, Nata, Poly, probably a couple of girls he finds in a bar, loving wife.
His wife was holding him, hands around his neck, eyes filled with affection. The guy seemed a little irritated.
He really wanted to provide us with the best hospitality his home could offer because that is what Armenians do. In his case, his hospitality was mainly directed at Nata and Poly.
"I have this awesome meat soup, it's a meal for the whole day", he told Poly.
Poor poly who doesn't even eat bread hasn't touched meat for ages and Nata, while less extreme wouldn't even dream about eating that.
So, more for me. You could see the blood flowing into that guys head. Little icons of crushed skulls floating between his synapses. He felt played. And Armenians don't like to be played. I bet he wants to tear my eyes out and pour that meat soup into my skull but he tries to remain civil in front of Nata. So I eat my plate. It's great.
To add to the frustration, Poly soon leaves to play with their baby while Nata goes help the wife clean dishes. Who is left to keep company to the poor lad: me of course. We don't exchange a word but I think we both know we won't be friends on facebook. Shame.
His frustration finds a way out when he suggests to sell me to slavery in his construction working business. I'd like to see you try boy. I've brought down bigger businesses than you could even imagine so I wouldn't sleep too quietly under that roof I've built for you.
"They are not sleeping together!" The guy repeated a few times, he almost yelled.
Nothing in his little world would make sense. He started from nothing. He climbed his way to the top. In Armenia, where people struggle to find the shittiest of jobs he found a way to provide for his whole family. You've got to give it to him, the guy is a fighter. And for what? A wife without personality and a home made soup? Where is the glory? Where is the recognition? Why aren't these girls eating my food? And why is this stupid geek travelling with two girls and for fucks sake is he even screwing one of them? How can that be? He can be tolerant, he can take loads but he won't be part of this absurdity! Fuck you fate, fuck you destiny, they are not sleeping together.
But actually, we kind of are. The poor guy doesn't realize it but the truth is aper, I am as astonished as you are. Why are Nata's hands joining mine and why does she climb into my arms I have no idea. Maybe it's how rainbow works, maybe god is drunk. I might as well enjoy it until he has a hangover.
The next day the guy lets us shower and cuts the water when I'm inside. Luckily I've just finished showering. I just didn't have time to wash my teeth but I'll survive without for today.
I am sick of his way of treating me. I have never seen such lack of respect. And when every connection has failed, the only way to gain respect again between men is a good fight. So I challenge him. He seems confident. He is stronger than me, he's the kind of guy who would beat up half of the bar. He's fast. He is smaller than me and he has a shitty face defence. He thinks that he doesn't need it because he has won too many fights. He is a tough motherfucker but I'm not afraid to face him, I'm not afraid to face anyone. When you make the decision to travel with two girls who look like Nata and Poly then you also make the decision of being punched in the face. It's only a plus if you don't and I certainly hope for destiny to be kind to me.
Nata jumps of her seat like a red rocket: "they will be no fighting!"
She means business. And to be completly honest, she saves my ass. Just my pride is hurt. I'm angry with her and most of all, I'm angry with me. Then, I'm just angry with me. I can't be angry with Nata for too long. We left so quickly that I didn't have time to take my towel and my cap. We leave them there. Nata doesn't want to come back; she is too afraid for me and she is too afraid for Poly. Weirdly enough, she isn't afraid for herself.
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