Hello, I have visited a site: quechup_com. And saw yours profile, I has decided to write to you.
My name is Maria. I the lonely woman. To me 34 years. My growth 178. My weight of 70 kg. I never was married.
I live in Russia. And I have not found the love in Russia. And I have decided to try to find the love through the Internet.
I quiet counterbalanced, optimistical, with good sense of humor, Sincere, frank, fair, true, very romantic, passionate, loyal,
here this all high qualities, at me all depends on mood and the mood most of all depends on weather, I do not smoke i do not drink
I do not accept narcotic tablets, but I can sometimes be very quick-tempered this one my bad quality, I think that any more I have no bad qualities.
My clothing style - modern or casual. I think it while will suffice. Details at correspondence. If you are interested by me then please write on my e-mail.
I shall necessarily answer you. I send you my photos. I shall hope that you write to me and also will send me your photo.
Tell me about itself. Yours faithfully Maria.
"Maria" attached the following photo to her e-mail:
Okay, first of all, like many people I was duped into signing up for Quechup, the networking site that's really a phishing scheme/spam/Trojan virus in disguise. I don't really know what Quechup is, only that I've heard people say that it wasn't genuine, so I avoided it like the plague. This was the first time anyone had contacted me, and I'm pretty gobsmacked. I mean, its not every day that a lovely Russian woman contacts me. Most women run away vomiting when they see my photo, and running while puking is a very difficult maneuver to pull off, so I give them credit for that. I'm pretty suspicious at the authenticity of Maria's e-mail and her query to want to get to know me.
So I've prepared a response of my own to Maria, just to let her know where I stand with anonymous contacts:
Privet! That means hello in Russian, but I'm assuming you already know that. Thank you for finding me on this massive electronic labyrinth called the Internet. I'm glad you found my meager profile on Quechup and not the photos from 1993 of me pledging my fraternity. That would have been embarrassing and I've hired a lawyer to purge those pictures from the Net.
So you want to get to know me? Dangerous move on your behalf, because I'm such a rebel. I don't play by the rules. I'm into things that are illegal in most states and countries. I'm banned from Senegal, Kuwait and eight other countries. Don't ask, it's a long story that involves caning, Dutch schoolgirls and a drunken goat.
Maria, what can I begin to tell you about me? To be fair, let me say that I enjoyed your e-mail. It's clear that English is your third or fourth language, but you write better than most Americans. Writing in minute fragments conveys information in easily-digestible blocks instead of long-winded sentences, great for sufferers of ADD or people from Alabama. So what if you write like Borat speaks? I'm sure I can teach you many things, like basic sentence structure.
Good news, Maria! I, too, am counterbalanced and highly optimistical! What a coincidence, Maria, because my mood also depends upon the weather! When it's sunny and bright, I am sweeter than sugar pie, but when it's overcast or when there's precipitation of any kind, I fly into a wild frenzy and punch infants and kittens.
I also have a zero tolerance for narcotic tablets, preferring to shoot up with needles or ingest liquids. How many good times have I forgotten because of the absinthe and heroin!
While your clothing style is modern or casual, I prefer women who wear medieval peasant's garb, Victorian corsets or lingerie from the 1920s.
I understand that you could be bad-tempered, being Russian and all. I grew up during the Cold War and you Soviets really were pricks. Sorry, but if we're going to embark on this adventure called love, I should at least be honest with you. I mean, what's the deal with all of those gulags and interment camps? Did you really think that by resisting capitalism, your country could thrive? Now that Russia is run by organized criminals, just like in America, I guess there has been some social and economic progress there since 1991.
I must admit that I'm flabbergasted you want to have a relationship with me. I know about the only thing I can offer you besides hot American love is probably a green card, so you can haul your family's asses stateside and begin gorging yourselves on nachos, iPods and designer jeans.
From your photo, I can tell you're beautiful, sexy and probably a nude model. I've seen enough Russian girl websites to know that stripping down and posing is a good way of earning a few rubles. If we start dating, you're going to have to put your nude modeling career aside, as I do not want other men to be spanking the monkey to my woman.
I'm a considerate yet jealous lover.
Tempting your offer may be, I'd have to respectfully decline. It's not you, Maria. It's me. See, I can't stand Internet dating. I have problems with receiving unsolicited e-mails from strange Russian women who send me photos and fill my fool head with notions of rubbing uglies for Mother Russia. To be honest, I think you are nothing but a scam, too good to be true and full of bullshit. You're like the Nigerian Lottery or Spanish Lottery or South African Royal Consulate for Lotteries. You're infecting the Internet, a disease multiplying and dividing, spreading like a pandemic and infecting the inboxes of every red-blooded American male with a Russian girl fixation. I know this might sound harsh, but fuck it - I'm honest here. I don't dwell in the realm of deception and trickery, viewing others as rubes who'll fall for my Ponzi scheme or mail-order bride factory.
You know what I find distasteful, Maria?
It's the lying that hurts. If you are truly a Russian serf dreaming of a strong, American boyfriend, why didn't you contact me through Facebook or Craigslist? Because you used Quechup, I could see right through your scheme, a house of cards meant to lure me into donating money or precious bodily fluids to you for whatever nefarious plot you're brewing in that evil Russian brain of yours.
Did Putin put you up to this? Are you really interested in me, or are you deliberately jerking me around? Sorry, comrade, but this Yankee is tired of your minx-like sex games. You can take your 34-year-old, lithe, 70 kg body back to Siberia.
I'm not interested in a relationship built upon bullshit.