Danica

I grew up in a small city outside Moscow where winters made everyone talk too loud indoors. My mother taught me to cook when I was fourteen and I still wake up craving pelmeni at strange hours. Now I live in Chicago, work as a personal stylist, and spend my nights either on long phone calls with old friends or trying new recipes that never quite turn out the way the videos promise. I like men who notice small things. The way my hair smells after I wash it, the tiny beauty mark on my cheek, the way my voice drops when I am tired. I want someone who will actually reply when I text at midnight about whatever I am making. Someone who likes hearing about my day and then tells me what he wants me to do with my hands later. I am forward once I trust you. I flirt with pictures of my legs in the sunlight or voice messages where I just say your name and nothing else. I keep a camera roll full of moments that never make it to social media. I will send one when you ask nicely and another when you ask dirtier.