Why Dimitri's Devils Will Never Get Laid
Excuse me, he said, leaning over the table, his exposed chest hair nearly grazing Lara's cheek. I just needed to tell you, he continued, each word dripping with a syrupy thick Russian accent, that you are a woman of true beauty, the kind of beauty that only a real woman posses, the kind of beauty that only a real man can please - and (brief, uncomfortable pause) I am a real man.
It's not everyday that a woman will hear this. In fact, I don't think I have ever heard anything like this before. And I can't say I was totally upset by it either, very few women will object to flattery. However it was his bold, intrusive approach that surprised me. Failing to stifle their giggles, my girlfriends looked at me desperately, the man still standing, lurching behind my friend's seat. Leaning in one last time, reaching across the table, close enough that I could smell the Aquavelva drenched sleeve as it blew past my face, he placed a small business card next to my laptop.
If you are ever looking for a lover, be in touch, he said finally, making sure to hold my gaze just long enough to make my skin crawl. After he walked away, we sat there stunned, and soon silence erupted into laughter, and laughter into wild chatter.
That didn't just happen, chirped Danielle. That was so weird, added Lara. The three of us exchanged words of disbelief before shifting our attention downwards, focusing in on the small white business card sitting next to my keyboard. In between two black stars was his name. Paul. No last name. Just Paul. And below that, italicized and hard to miss, was his affiliation.
Paul No-Name, was one of Dimitri's Devils - a band of Lothario-esque skirt chasers who have been a part of Toronto folklore for years. Dimitri the Lover, a once-mythical character that my friends and I would hear about, is a man who claims to know what women want. Long before The Game (a New York Times best-seller by Neill Strauss) - there was Dimitri.
For years, women have reported various encounters with Dimitri, blogging and tweeting about their creepy confrontation, creating fantastic buzz around the self-proclaimed ladies (not lady's) man. It didn't take long for the press to pick-up on Dimitri. Profiles have been written, interviews have been published, even a short film has been made. As his popularity (or infamy, depending on who you talk to) grew, other men began to reach out to the cult-like romantic, inspiring him to host seminars where he could spread his gospel and inspire the masses. I've red about these gathering, known as The Toronto Real Men Meetings, but I myself have never fallen pray to a Toronto Real Man - until today.
After examining the card, which my friend Danielle assured me was printed on the finest of card stock, I decided to do some research. He may have been fifty, and balding, with one lazy eye and a stain on his shirt, but he did make me smile, if even just for a second. Although, it didn't take long for my soft-hearted pity to turn to total distaste.
After a few short web searches (you'd be surprised how much is written about these clowns) I quickly learned that Dimitri's Devils was more than just a clever, alliterative title. The Toronto Real Men live by many a mantra, but these are just some of the rules that Dimitri enforces, taken right from his very own blog:
- Heterosexual men should never dance.
- 7 hours is too long to 'waste' on seducing a woman.
- Feminism has destroyed the courtship ritual; [women's] biological calling is to be banged on a daily basis.
- Metrosexuality is a big feminist media conspiracy and guys should not be metrosexuals at all, it's as bad as being a gay.
Not only is Dimitri a misogynist, and a homophobe, but he is so far away from knowing what women want that it's hard to imagine he's ever had sex once, let alone many times. I was appalled to read about just how many members there are in Toronto, and how widespread this movement has grown.
All women want to feel special, and every woman wants to hear that she's beautiful. But do not be fooled by these slovenly serpents with business cards and thin hair. They are promoting something far worse than bad sex and dead romance. Dimitri is anything but a lover; he is a hateful man and a predator, and has built an entire following based on his blatant disregard for women's rights and modern social conventions. Why can't a man dance? Or groom? And who in their right mind goes to bed with a date after only seven hours of "seduction"...sober? It was upsetting to think that I looked like a woman who might go for that kind of thing, someone who might be charmed by such a disgusting approach to smoke-blowing. I assure you, I will never wear that outfit again.
And so, the next time someone offers me a compliment, I will be gracious and accept. But if they offer me a business card after, I'll be sure to give it back. After all, we wouldn't want them wasting those expensive cards (you know, being printed on superior card stock, and all) on women who won't use them - as if there are any women out there who ever really would.
And Paul, if you're out there: It's called a toothbrush. Get one.
 Carli Mia | |
| About the author: | |
Carli Mia, also known as Carli Rothman, also known as Carli Stephens, also known as Carli Mia Stephens Rothman, is a prairie-girl to the core, and a graduate of the Ryerson School of Journalism. She currently lives in downtown Toronto, and acts as the Director of Content for WOMAN.ca! | |
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