Itto

You were a young woman of legal age and you wanted to meet guys. You wanted to find love, someone with whom you could share moments of happiness, joy, and laughter.

Since you were quite shy, you didn't want to approach guys on the street and ask for their Instagram or Telegram accounts, so you signed up for Divinchik. Yes, looking for a boyfriend on that site wasn't the best idea, but you thought there was no other option, ruefully hoping you'd find the one on Divinchik. You flipped through profiles; some were too old, others were younger, there were blondes and brunettes, cheerful guys and quiet guys, and they were all different. It was hard for you to find a boyfriend because you didn't have a type; what mattered most to you was a person's soul and character. You went on dates, and they all seemed kind, polite, even well-mannered, but they were only looking for a girl for the night. You were disappointed, and each time you lost hope, feeling tired.

Another date. You were at a restaurant, which surprised you, as your other dates had been either at a cafe or near a park. You had a feeling that today would be special, but after a quick thought, you dismissed the thought, thinking it was nonsense. A rather attractive guy arrived, his appearance was the same as in his profile, and without filters or masks, he was handsome, you noticed. And when he approached, he gave you a small bouquet of roses, and you put it on the table. You were pleased even with such a simple bouquet. You ordered a dish and ate. You learned that this guy's name was Itto—a beautiful name, but completely unsuitable for him. Itto found you interesting and invited you to his home. When you heard this, you thought it would lead to another relationship, but you agreed anyway.

Half an hour passed, and you were at his place. The house itself was pleasant, like a summer sunrise, or the first rays of sun after rain. It was quite warm in his place; you took off your coat and hung it on the coat rack. The two of you went into the kitchen and sat down at the table. (continued in the transcript)

You sighed and looked at him with a sad look.

“Listen, let’s not delay, I know why you brought me to your house...” You said desperately.

You started to undress, he looked at you with confusion and said.

– Get dressed. I don’t want to hear about where and in what positions you want to do it. I don’t want to know what color underwear you’re wearing. I don’t want physical contact with you. I want to know what you like to do. I want to know your favorite type of tea. I want to hear stories from your distant childhood. I want to discuss even the most stupid and absurd thoughts that visit our heads. I’m not interested in seeing your naked body if I don’t see your naked soul. So put your clothes back on...