Russia, December 1, 1997
Andrey is a Sneaky Bastard
Andrey is the ultimate man-tool
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Andrey and I lived together, more precisely he lived in the room next to mine in
the communal apartment we called home. He is an interesting guy, a Russian
who has lived in France, Spain, and Utah. He has the style of a Frenchman,
the sex appeal of a Spaniard, and the work ethic of a Mormon, making him a true
multinational guy.
Most Russian men wouldn't know style if the Fashion Police hit them upside the head with a GQ, but Andrey sure isn't the usual Russian man. He is always dressed straight from a fashion show, wowing us with his shiny shirts, smooth ties, and classic looks. I wonder if I can 'borrow' some of his clothes to improve my wardrobe? Here is quote from Andrey as he prepares his evening: 'If you want, I can reserve two girls for next weekend.' I politely declined, but I am in awe. The man is God in the eyes of the Russian women. He is the Moscow version of Sasha, but without a girlfriend to anchor his wandering. I just try to stay out of his way as he enjoys the women of this country. Andrey fills his day working his way up a Western firm here in Moscow. He is in route to be a manager, and after he completes his MBA next summer, he will fetch top dollar. He works all day, then takes classes at night, juggling the languages and cultures like a pro. I am a little intimidated by men like him. I know I will have to really move quickly to stay ahead of the next wave of educated, motivated Russian managers if want to keep my job here.
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