He who doesn’t take risks, doesn’t drink champagne

Кто не рискует, тот не пьет шампанского
(Kto ne riskuyet, tot ne pyot shampanskovo)
He who doesn’t take risks, doesn’t drink champagne.

It may not surprise you to hear I have Russian-Ukrainian roots. I was born with a Moscovite’s instinct to dress well and enjoy ballet and poetry with fervor, yet I’m known to be a very silly person. My Eastern-European sense of humor can be edgy and sarcastic, but underneath it all, I’m a total softie. Yes, I enjoy some playful ribbing, and yes, you will often find a mischievous glint in my eye when I find the perfect way to tease you, but hey, you can just blame my Jewish cultural background. It’s all in good fun, and full of affection. Underneath all this softness and edge is a born and bred risk taker, someone not happy with the status quo, someone who always wanted something more, something new.

When I shipped off to college, I took my first big risk: moving across the country from my family to a city where I knew nobody. This propensity for risk and challenge has never wavered; in 2020 I set off on a solo road trip across the country and back. I spent endless hours alone in my car, blasting Lucinda Williams and The Chicks down long, desert roads, camping in nature when I found golden, hidden spots, and meeting so many new friends along the way. And then, again, in 2022, I took what felt like the biggest risk of all: moving back to the Bay Area to start grad school — an endeavor I swore I’d never undertake. It’s turned out to be the best decision I could have made, and I couldn’t have gotten there without all my other preceding risks. It turns out, simply jumping off into the deep end is the best way to go (speaking of — you can add “open water swimming on the most dangerous beach in San Francisco” to my list of maybe not so great risky choices).

Making decisions like this may look spontaneous, but they actually take quite a bit of time. Moving for grade school was years in the making, I just didn’t always know it was percolating underneath the surface. I believe in slowing down. I believe in getting where we need to be when we’re meant to. Side note to my fellow chronic over thinkers: this is a huge saving grace when you’re keeping yourself up late at night with racing thoughts of all that needs to get done. It’ll get done, I promise. Just not right now.

Time is the most valuable gift; I don’t believe in rushing. Accordingly, I am my best bright-eyed self in long, unwinding dates, where we can give ourselves to each other willingly. To reach the precipice of intimacy and dive in, unafraid. To be ok with getting a little lost sometimes (which yes, definitely happened a few times on my road trip. Maybe while naked in the desert? Ask me about it over dinner…).

I want to know who you are. Who are you? I am a flâneuse in the streets and a hunting panther in the sheets. An enthusiastically artful storyteller. Self-assured. Wild, yet kind, deliberate, humorous, and compassionate. Where can we go together, when we have the time? What will we learn?

I propose a toast, to us: to take risks, to drink champagne, to discover all our secret proclivities, and to surrender to getting lost in one another…again, and again, and again.