Male Order Bride

He walks into the bar most nights with his shoulders slouched down as his heavy feet scuff loudly against the cement floor – but not tonight. With dark eyes that match the hair dye he uses to color his thick and mangy toupee, the monochromatic rhythm of his personality seems to skip a beat this evening.

“Gripes! What the hell is happening here?” I think to myself as “Barstool Number 9” takes his usual seat at the bar. A lovely brunette saunters in ten paces behind him and takes her place at the barstool on his right.

“What, pray tell, is happening here?” begins the conversation in my mind. “How did this dweeb land such an amazingly beautiful woman?  She looks like a doll etched out of bars of Dove soap!”

She begins to speak…

Yet I don’t understand a word she utters.  Not one.

He smiles my way, and then in her direction before glancing down at his phone. (There’s an app for that…)

Pointing to a bottle of cabernet he says “Add that one to my tab, please.”

Me to Myself:   “Whoa!  Russian Order Brides exist? This is like Lars and the Real Girl come to life.  Hope this is as good as that movie! Apparently cheese isn’t the only thing being imported in this place.”

I gaze at the porcelain goddess trying to figure out how she made her voyage to America when the Love Boat theme starts playing in my mind interrupting my own thoughts:

“The Love Boat soon will be making another run.

The Love Boat promises something for everyone.

Set a course for adventure, your mind on a new romance…”

“Where was I?” I think to myself as I’m still thinking to myself.  I envision him window shopping on his international tour to select a bride and spotting her wearing a parka while slaughtering a walrus and him saying, “Add that one to my tab, please.”

“This is Polina,” Number 9 says. (Although I’m pretty sure that isn’t her name but the Russian name I assign her for the sake of the fascinating story playing out before me).

“Nice to meet you,” I say, adding “ARE YOU CRAZY!?!” but luckily it comes out “Are you Ukrainian?” (Phew, close one).

“Yes she is,” he says smiling. (Crazy or Ukrainian I still wonder?).

“Were you unable to find a companion that didn’t require a Visa, a lawyer, English lessons, roses and an expensive bubble bath?” I want to say but kick myself instead to suppress my thoughts.

“This is my new girlfriend.  She just moved here to be with me.”

“Well, then this is true love wrapped in a burrito!” I think.

…A burrito stuffed full of payment for several addresses, annual subscriptions, translation and/or interpreting services, a European tour and then all the expenses for the wedding to bring her to America before she takes you for all your worth leaving you alone with that mysterious, furry mammal that resides on your balding head!

“Here’s your tab…”