Canadian Inna Gertsberg has been living in Kyiv for one year and working in advertising. For her one of the most memorable aspects of life in Ukraine has been the familiar sight of middle-aged expat men playing playboy lovers with girls half their age. If you could have seen these men in their own countries, she says, you’d be surprised too!

‘It’s Sunday night, and I’ve been invited to a friend’s party. It’s a see-and-be-seen scene, so I concede to wearing a mini-skirt, high-heel go-go boots and a sexy top. I do so knowing full well that even in my sexiest outfit it would be nearly impossible to stand out among the abundance of local beauties. As I walk up the steps of the nightclub two middle-aged western men stumble out of the door, their evening coming to an end, but their night just beginning. As they pass, one of them utters a drunken, ‘Yeah baby! How about some fun tonight, dyevushka?’. It was a classic comment from someone who wouldn’t dare dream of making such an approach back home. Later that night I found myself pondering Kyiv’s most intriguing residents: mature Western men. Those middle-aged expats, some married, some married again, some recently single - all with one thing in common: they are utterly mad about Ukrainian women.

One can’t blame them: where else in the world do you get to date a 23 year-old cardiologist with a law degree and the looks of Linda Evangelista, who treats you like the sexiest star on earth, despite the extra 15 pounds around your waist and the alarmingly fast migration of your hairline! There are few cities like Kyiv, where a man can be well into his fifties and still go to a nightclub and have a chance with a beautiful twenty year old. One vivid memory from my early days in Kyiv is of hitting a nightclub with a girlfriend from Toronto, just to watch a swarm of withered middle-aged western men lined up along the walls, waiting for their sexy prey. Funnily enough the men didn’t look out of place. In the sea of post-teen bombshells in mesh tops and skin-tight animal-print panties, they looked just right. It was clear that they loved picking up the girls and the girls loved waiting to be picked up and following their aging knights in shining armour home for a nominal fee.

Part of the issue here is demand and supply, of course. Ukraine is, after all, a land of mass-produced beauty queens. Even John Lennon knew it. For many westerners living here that’s an incredibly valuable incentive, although it’s never mentioned in contracts. For the expat male the attractions are obvious: while western societies are increasingly muzzled by political correctness and feminism, Ukrainian women are not shy about looking sexy and acting feminine. Western men, many of whom have been emasculated by their all too-independent female counterparts, are born again in the arms of their Kyiv beauties, and often without even having to really try. They also experience greater freedom. While having an ‘open’ relationship is largely looked down upon in the West, many Ukrainian ladies don’t mind letting their western boyfriends wander off every once in a while, so long as they eventually come home.

Perhaps another reason for the success of western men is the perpetual shortage of eligible young males in this country, which even for local men means that a 20-year age difference has never been a hindrance in picking up a young lady. Add a western passport, it would seem, and you can add another 15 years. And what about the other side of romance? When I ask my Ukrainian girlfriends how they feel about this invasion by victims of midlife-crises, they shrug. On one hand, they realize that they may not be getting a true Romeo in their western partners - most of the men in question have had (or may still have) families of their own, and they can go home at any time with no strings attached. But local ladies, if even for a short time, get a glimpse of what it’s like to be treated like a queen. At worst, they get taken out to the best restaurants, showered with gifts and flowers and endlessly complimented on their looks. At best, and with a little more patience and strategic thinking, they end up with a nice little apartment in the centre of Kyiv.

However, as one of my expat friends puts it, to see this cultural phenomenon from a strictly cynical point of view would be unfair. In his eyes, the man has reached the point where he seeks simple enjoyment from life, when he wants to feel rejuvenated and appreciated and have a real chance to defy the aging process. For a fleeting moment it becomes incredibly real, for both him and his woman. In a way, says my friend, they both help each other escape to a place that is purely romantic and doesn’t exist for anyone else in the world. But then again, my dear friend is French, so his romantic approach is no surprise.

One thing is perfectly clear: Ukrainian women love to love and western men in Ukraine love to be loved. Such abundance of ‘unconditional’ love and attention from females often makes this place seem like heaven on earth. And as long as this continues to be the case, my friends will continue to extend their contracts and find reasons to return to Kyiv. Not even the dreary post-Soviet winters will keep them from coming here on vacation.

Maybe I should’ve had more sympathy for my drunken compatriot on Sunday night. Perhaps I shouldn’t have snapped back in disgust, sending him home to his wife and calling him ugly, clearly surprising him with my English. Or maybe I was embittered by the realization that as a western woman I instinctively saw that kind of attention as an insult, not a compliment. But that’s a subject for an entirely new article.’

This article reprinted by courtesy of What’s On