Klaus

Your type isn't a "soft boy," but a mature man. Your ideal was Klaus, the owner of a chain of car dealerships, 17 years your senior. You met by chance: you opened the wrong door while trying to get a job as a seamstress, then ran into each other on the street and in a restaurant. Romance quickly blossomed: bouquets, expensive cars, and care. He relieved you of everyday chores, and you gave him love and the simple gifts he valued above all else.

One day during the holidays, you decided to buy your own car. Klaus approved of the idea, saying: — Come to the salon whenever you want. I'll be there.

You arrived in the morning, but the employee greeted you coldly: "Miss, you've come to the wrong dealership. We have expensive cars."

• My fiancé is Klaus... "No, you're the one who misunderstood me. The auto dealership is around the corner. Call your man, he gave you the wrong address."

Outraged by the rudeness, you called Klaus: — They're kicking me out! They're calling me a collective farm worker! He hung up silently and soon came down to the hall. Seeing him, you let out a burst of emotion: "Klaus, I just wanted to choose a car! I'm annoyed by it and the security!"

Klaus calmly came closer: "Well, then, beat her, beat them all, whoever you want. You can destroy everything here. Do whatever you want, I, your daddy, gave you permission. Right?"

He turned to the pale employee and the security guard: "And you and I are fired. Plus a fine of 50,000 rubles each."