American Bachelors Go Looking for Love in Moscow

Marc Hasara, an American bachelor determined to find a wife, is giddy with anticipation. Running on adrenaline, he has barely slept for days, knowing he’s about to meet the Russian woman he intends to marry.

Though he’s never set eyes on Tanya, his prospective bride, he’s brimming with confidence based on the barrage of letters, photos and phone calls they’ve exchanged since connecting through an American-Russian matchmaking service.

“There’s a 99 1/2% chance this will lead to marriage,” Hasara says.

A handsome, athletic, 42-year-old gas company worker from near Los Angeles, he is among 30 American men who flew to Moscow for the chance to mingle with several hundred Russian women equally eager to check them out.

Russian-American matchmaking services have flourished since the Soviet breakup. Dozens of firms in both countries link up American men, mostly middle-age, prosperous and lonely, with Russian women, mostly 10 to 20 years younger and struggling financially.

Asked why they want a foreign husband, Russian women tick off a long list of shortcomings among Russian males, with drunkenness at the top. Tired of insensitive Russian men, the Russian women will bluntly ask an American man they’ve just met, “How do you kiss?” Correct answer: softly, passionately and often.

For their part, the American men invariably cite the striking beauty of the Russian women, their demure femininity and willingness to assume a traditional role of wife and mother.

The men, who pay about $5,000 for the trip, also express a strident hostility toward American-style feminism.

Dave Besuden, the head of Anastasia Tours, which organized the trip on the American side, says he always tells his clients a good news-bad news joke before they come: “The bad news about Russia is that women’s lib is coming. The good news is that it’s still 100 years away.”

At the Manhattan Express nightclub, set in the shadow of the Kremlin, the men and women socialize for three days and nights as best they can, considering most don’t share a language. It’s an odd scene, tinged with desperation and a sense that dreams will be dashed rather than realized.

In the cavernous club, the Russian women outnumber the American men 4 to 1. While the men stroll about, most women sit silently along the walls, beneath the leopard-print curtains, waiting to be approached.

The rock music is deafening. Introductions are awkward, usually requiring an interpreter. A dinner date afterward automatically becomes a threesome.

Peter Draper, a 48-year-old firefighter from outside San Francisco, is on his third matchmaking trip to Russia, still searching for the right woman.

He spent all of February in Tver, north of Moscow, dating more than 20 women. He’s asked several to come to the United States, but all turned him down. Other women have offered to be his wife, but he has declined. Still, he has faith.

“I think I’m going to find somebody this time,” Draper says. “In fact, I know it.”

The odds of a successful match may be long, but the matchmaking firms say they have produced thousands of Russian-American marriages in recent years. They help the lonely hearts make long-distance contact through letters, e-mails and videos, then face-to-face at the “socials.”

Nina Rubasheva, who runs Vesta-Fortune, the Russian group organizing this event, says she has married off hundreds of clients over the last five years and has 1,000 single women in her files.

“Some men only want leggy blonds that look like models,” Rubasheva says. “We try to convince them to consider other women as well.”

When she launched her company five years ago, it was more of an “emigration service” for young Russian women desperate to leave. And at that time, many of the women were leggy blonds.

Now there’s a greater cross-section. All the women are well-dressed, most are educated, some speak English. A fair number are divorced and have a child. If they hit it off with an American man, they can go to the United States on a three-month “fiancee visa,” but at least 25% decide not to marry and return home.

When Hasara first learned about the matchmaking tours, he was searching for a certain type of woman--Pamela Anderson, the buxom, blond lifeguard on TV’s “Baywatch.” But when he flipped through the catalog of women provided by Anastasia tours, he locked in on brown-haired Tanya, who’s 40, divorced and the mother of a 14-year-old daughter.

He sent Tanya a 13-page, hand-written letter, including a copy of his W-2 form confirming his annual $60,000 salary.

“She satisfies my first requirement--she’s extraordinarily beautiful,” says Hasara, a lifelong bachelor.

While waiting several days for Tanya to arrive from the Siberian oil town where she lives, Hasara has been unable to sleep in Moscow, rising every morning at 4 a.m. to call her.

“I can’t wait to become part of your life,” he told Tanya.

She replied, “I think I’ll just die when I meet you.’ ”

When Marc Hasara meets Tanya for their first date, they are the only people in the restaurant, but they wouldn’t notice if the place was packed. “It was the most exciting night of my life,” Hasara says.

Before they receive the bill, Hasara proposes, and Tanya accepts. Since neither drinks, they celebrate their engagement with a cup of tea. They will have five days together, touring snowy Moscow and planning a life together in sunny California.

Before Hasara returns home to await the arrival of Tanya and her daughter, he offers a piece of advice: “I’d tell all the men who can’t get dates in America to come to Russia. There are diamonds here, and I found one.”