How I Met My Tatar Bride

Years of scrolling, nothing to show for it

I am a businessman from Saudi Arabia, divorced from bachelorhood late and unmarried all my life — I simply never found the time, or perhaps the right way. What I wanted was specific: a loyal, beautiful Muslim wife of Slavic heritage, raised with real family values. I spent years on the big matrimonial websites and apps. Thousands of profiles, polished photos, the same sentences copied from one account to the next. I wrote to women who never replied, and replied to women who were not who they claimed to be. It was an enormous waste of time, and it left me quietly convinced that what I was looking for did not exist online.

Then a close friend — a man whose judgement I trust in business and in life — told me to stop searching alone and speak to a matchmaker. He gave me NikahCity. I will be honest: I was sceptical. But my first consultation felt different immediately. Nobody tried to sell me a fantasy. They asked difficult questions about my life, my expectations, my faith, and whether what I wanted was realistic.

Five months of careful introductions

It did not happen quickly, and I am glad it did not. Over the following months my matchmaker introduced me to a number of women — never at random. Each introduction came with a reason: shared values, compatible expectations about family, faith, children, relocation. We exchanged questions, we spoke by video call, and several times I politely stepped back, which my matchmaker treated as useful information rather than failure. Each conversation sharpened the search.

Around the fifth month, she sent me a profile with a short note: "Read this one carefully." The lady was Tatar, from Kazan. She was divorced — and I had always said I wanted a woman who had never been married. But her photograph and the way her profile was written caught my eye in a way I could not ignore: modest, intelligent, quietly warm. I decided to trust the matchmaker rather than my own checklist. It was the best decision of the whole search.

From a Zoom introduction to WhatsApp

Our first introduction was organised properly — a video call arranged by the matchmaker, respectful and unhurried, with none of the awkwardness of a dating app. We talked about our families, our days, what we each believed marriage was for. When the call ended I knew I wanted to speak to her again. We continued by messages on WhatsApp, and a few weeks of daily conversation convinced me that words on a screen were no longer enough.

Moscow, or Kazan?

To be honest, I first planned the trip cautiously. I arranged to stop in Moscow to meet one more candidate — insurance, I told myself, in case the Kazan visit did not work out. My matchmaker organised both meetings. But the truth is that by then my heart was already inclined towards Kazan. The Moscow meeting was pleasant and honourable, yet it was clearly unnecessary; I sat there comparing an admirable woman to someone she could not see. The next morning I took the modern high-speed train to Kazan.

Kazan

Kazan surprised me. I expected a provincial city; I found a place where striking modern architecture stands naturally beside centuries of Islamic heritage — the white walls of the Kremlin, the great Kul Sharif mosque, the call to prayer drifting over a clean, confident, thoroughly modern city. It felt, I remember thinking, like a place where my two worlds already lived together.

We met properly, as it should be done: her elder sister was present, gracious and watchful in the way a family should be, and the three of us drank tea while she asked me direct, honest questions about my intentions. I was grateful for it — a family that protects its daughter is a family worth joining. During that week we walked the city, along the Bauman street and the embankment of the Kazanka, and we talked and talked. About faith, about children, about where we would live, about everything that matters and many things that do not. Every answer she gave made the next question easier.

The proposal

At the end of that week I asked her to marry me. There was no theatre in it — we were past that — only certainty. She said yes. Her family said yes. My matchmaker, when I called her, said simply: "I knew on the fifth month. I am glad you caught up."

If you are where I was — scrolling, doubting, wasting evenings on people who are not serious — my advice is short: stop searching alone. A good matchmaker sees what your checklist cannot.

— A., Riyadh, married in Kazan