Sunday, December 9, 2007

The Naked Man

*Writer's note...it's been a while. I have to admit, it's been fairly drama free for all the girls for some time and there hasn't been much to dish, individually or collectively... but the dating gods seem to have decided that in terms of crazy what-the-fuck incidents that make for great stories, the lack in quantity will be made up for in terms of quality. Quality sleaziness, that is.*



My good friend Matt called me up one day. He had an acquaintance who was in town - a young man who wanted to check out the scene and possibly move here. Being married to a woman who apparently had him practically under house arrest, Matt implored me to take on the role of nightlife tour guide. I agreed. Any friend of Matt's was a friend of mine, right?

We had dinner and then drinks. The guy was articulate, witty and attractive. He insisted on paying for everything which was not expected but nice. I was charmed enough to let him sling an arm around my shoulders as we walked along the harbor and took in the lights of the skyline.

As the time approached to call it a night he began dropping hints of needing a place to stay.

"What happened to your hotel reservation?" I asked.

"I forgot to write down the address, I don't know where it is" he answered feebly. In retrospect that was probably the lamest excuse in the history of lame excuses but at that moment, three martinis in, anything seemed feasible.

"Can I crash at your place?" he asked.

I agreed, saying "Ok, you can sleep on the couch." I made sure to stress the word couch.

As soon as we stepped through the door, his lips were on mine. Giving into the chemistry of the evening and the feel of the three martinis, I let the kiss linger just a minute. I should have known. You give an inch, he takes a mile. In an instant his hand was down the back of my shirt in search of the bra hook. I pulled away.

"Tonight was nice, but I barely know you. I seriously meant it when I said you are taking the couch."

"You sure baby?" he cooed.

"I'm positive."

"No? I'm quite good at..." He flicked his tongue at me and made a slurping noise.

"Um, good for you... But I'm not sleeping with you. Or anything else," I added for emphasis.

He shrugged, gave me a peck on the cheek and made for the couch.

I'm not naive. Guys push their luck, I know that. And maybe it was stupidity on my part for having inadvertently hinted at the possibility of sex by allowing him to stay over. But as I watched him nest on the couch, I figured, no harm done. Just a misunderstanding.

The next morning I got up and checked on my house guest. He was lazily stretching on the couch. "Help yourself to milk or juice," I said as I headed into the bathroom. I washed up, brushed my teeth, combed my hair, etc.

I got out of the bathroom, walked into my room to find my house guest who only a few minutes ago had been on the couch now lying on my bed...STARK NAKED and um, rather... excited.

"What the...!" I stammered.

"It's ok, baby, come lie down with me," he said nonchalantly and patted a spot next to him.

"Get out!" I screamed, as I backed towards my roommate's door.

"Oh come on..." he cooed, making tsk tsk sounds with his tongue the way one does when trying to entice a cat to come over.

I reached my roommate's door and banged on it. My roommate is a fairly big Spanish dude. Say what you will about Latin men and their machismo, but machismo can bring out the best in a man when there's a damsel in distress. Not to mention bring out enough adrenaline in a man for him to unceremoniously toss another man out of an apartment. (In retrospect we really should have just kept the clothes instead of throwing them out after the sleazebag.)

SIDE NOTE: What the hell was he thinking????? What would possess a man to do that???? What could possibly make him think that this behavior would in any way endear him to me?????? Did he think my reluctance to do him was pure laziness. Like I just didn't want to go to the bother of undressing him so he'd save me the trouble???? "Well, now that I don't have to go to the effort of unzipping your pants....OK!" Seriously, WHAT THE HELL?????

I don't know. Maybe a woman showing up in bed naked would be great for a man, so he was thinking, "oh, all I need to do is show a little frontal nudity and she'll swoon with lust." But seriously guys, this sort of thing, NOT a turn on. It's more threatening than anything to a woman... All the China Dirt writers have encountered slime bags before but at least those scum buckets had half a brain cell.... there's seduction, there's sleaziness, and then there's just stupidity.

Anyway, I digress. I called Matt, the mutual friend, a few hours after the incident.

"Matt, you owe me dinner and drinks for life. Not to mention a new set of bedsheets."

Saturday, November 24, 2007

Reader Submission

WE'RE GOING TO POST this up here with the caveat that we realize that there are many sides to the dating scene. We don't necessarily condone this reader's actions but it is indicative of what does happen here in China (and many other places in the world).

Yeah, I'll admit it. I used to screw married guys in Beijing. It's not that I was on the hunt for men with rings on their fingers, but after 3 years in Asia, three years of starry-eyed hoping for That Special Someone (with repeatedly disastrous results), all you want is to get laid, leave a fake phone number and go home smiling. For the jaded, lost and given-up woman, 45-55 year old guys are the jam. Why?

1. They spare you the suffering of having to fake a mid-sex orgasm by – tada! – only lasting about 2 minutes.
2. They deliver a slew of actual orgasms as they go down on you (with decades of experience!) for multiple hours to make up for the fact that they can't "perform". Bank error in your favor, collect 200, um, orgasms. *cough*
3. They precede the sex by paying for dinner with old world charm and courtesy, pulling out your chair, opening your car door, and in general treating you like a lady. Okay, so the whole thing is horrifically corny, but you can't blame them for dancing the dance. Plus, it doesn't hurt to be wined and dined a couple times a month.
4. They only call when they're looking for a nice night out – which is about once a week.You don't really love them, they don't really love you, and everyone's clear on that fact. You can therefore feel free to be yourself in ways you never thought possible on a second date. If they don't like it, meh. You'll find another.
5. And if they had wives… well… none of my business.

The drawback, of course, is having to listen to golf stories for 3 hours at a stretch. I hasten to say that my soul was not in the healthiest, happiest, rainbow and unicorns place that year, and things have changed since then. But this was a time in my life where "The Patented 5:00AM Rule" was in effect every weekend – that is to say, kick them out by 5:00AM and you don't have to suffer through making them coffee. Nothing brings a guy back for more like shaking him awake after 20 minutes and telling him, "I had a great time. Now get out of my apartment." Smile while you say it. Politely affirm that you're not joking. Works like a charm.

Anyway, it was all going wonderfully for a while. A few guys who were infrequently in town, didn't care who else I was seeing and, I was getting on with my life until… well, let's call him Brandy.

Brandy started out OK. We met at my office, he bought me some drinks, he was very polite. But then… oh, but then… Never trust a man that doesn't drink coffee. Slowly, imperceptibly, the phone calls increased in volume. The dinners took on a whining, desperate tone. "See me tomorrow? No? Why not?" He offered to pay for my apartment. I refused. It's one thing for them to pay for dinner, but when they start giving you money, you're tied to them for good. Somewhere in the depths of their tiny lizard brains, they know this. He offered to buy me a boat if I'd be his girlfriend. He'd name it after me. "Don't push your luck," I said. Trips in Europe. "Sure - buy me a ticket and I'll write you a postcard." He offered to buy me a ticket back to the U.S. with him. "No," I said. He asked me to marry him.

"That's ridiculous," I replied."Buy WHY?" he pouted.
"Well," I reminded him for the five-thousandth time, "Because you're *already married*. Your wife is waiting for you back home, and to be honest, I'm not interested in a long-term relationship with anyone who cheats on his wife. Sounds hypocritical, but hey, that's just me."

And then he delivered the line that became my girlfriends' hilarious catchphrase for the next year: "But wives come and go!"

Wait, but you just… but you asked me to… and you still… what? I pity that poor woman. Some would say I should have expected this – after all, he was a douchebag to start with. But even a cheater ought to attempt some modicum of self-respect and respect for the (fourth) woman that currently wears his ring. I promptly left him, he promptly left the country, and I was magically cured of wrinkled pricks and married boys forever.

Monday, September 3, 2007

Drunk, socially inept asshole

Many people's impressions of Americans come from movies and one of those impressions is of the American frat boy. The stereotype being of a loud, drunken douchebag who says things like "WHOO HOO" and "KEG STAND MUTHAFUCKER!!!" And while that stereotype isn't all true, the guy I met a couple weekend's ago certainly fit the bill. The sad part was he was way past the age to be in a frat but somehow missed that fact. By the time I was introduced to Overage Frat Boy (OFB for short), he was in prime form, sweating, red faced and affectionately jockying with his friends by calling them all "Faggots." Charming.

One of our mutual, perhaps thinking it a good joke, introduced me to the ever suave OFB...and then promptly melted into the crowd much like how I imagine OFB's STDs probably melted into one another.

"Hey, how are you?" he slurred as he extended one meaty, sweat glazed hand. "I'm good." I shouted back over the blaring music. "Where you from?" he asked as he scooted closer. "XXXXXX. Where are you from?" I replied. "I'm from Kansas." A long, awkward pause ensued as I desperately tried to find my "friend" but he was infuriatingly no where to be found. Fuck. "So... uh... my friend XXXXX is from Kansas. She's back there now. She's from Kansas, you're from Kansas. You MUST know her right? Ha Haaa..." I feebly joked to keep the conversation going. "What THE FUCK?" he shouted. Confused, I attempted to keep joking, "Uh... you know. It's a joke because obviously why would you know her? But I guess if you do know her, you can say hello to her for me when you're back in Kansas. Haha?"

"My fist can say hello to your face. HaHA. How's THAT for a joke?" He retorted, whilst actually making a fist in one hand and gesturing with the other as to my face saying hello to it.

Our mutual friend, who had apparently been gleefully watching our awkward convrsation turn horribly wrong hurried over with an appalled look on his face. "I don't really think, my face wants to say hello to your fist." I told OFB as I got up. "I would however, like to go to the bar and have someone buy me a drink." I looked pointedly at my slightly sheepish friend.

Friday, August 17, 2007

Muhahaha! You've Been Played!! uhh...call me...please?

(Yes, we've been lagging in our efforts lately...with new jobs, new classes, new apartments, Summer travels and visitors storming through Asia, our girls were a bit too busy to date or write. But, we're back!)

The guy and I had been dating for about six months. Two months in I already knew it wasn't going to work out. He was a bit too possessive for my liking. I tried to break it off a few times but each time it was the same. He'd go into a tirade, scream obscenities at me and storm out...but then he'd come back an hour later, begging, sobbing and literally hanging onto whatever limb of mine he could grasp, promising he'd change. And being a fool, I let this go on for a few more months until one day I ended things for good and cut contact with him cold turkey.

A few weeks later I got a text message from him at 2am saying "I have a new girlfriend and we're IN LOVE!" Ok. Good for you. I got a similar message at 2:10 and another at 2:34. Uh huh. If you're so IN LOVE why are you not in bed doing what two people in love do during the night instead of messaging me?

This all took place about a year ago. I haven't kept up on him in the interim except to hear from mutual friends that he had moved back to his home country of Germany.

Today I got an email from him that said "Guess what? I never loved you. I was married the whole time! You were played!!! (Attached is a picture of me, my wife and my daughter.)"

AND THEN....he leaves his phone numbers (mobile, office and home).

After the initial what-the-fuck moment I started laughing. If he really is married, then he's a dirty bastard but also completely stupid because who the hell leaves a home phone number for a mistress? Which leads to the second, more likely possiblity that he's just making all this up for a reaction which makes him dirty, stupid and pathetic.

Nice try buddy. Next time at least attach a picture of a woman who doesn't look like your sister.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

Hate Mail

Who loves hate mail more than us? Here's the latest.

From: XXX@XXXXX.com
To: chinadirt@gmail.com
Date: Jun 25, 2007 2:15 PM
subject: ASIAN WOMEN

"WHITE WOMEN ARE STARTING TO REALIZE THAT YOUR NOT FIRST CHOICE. IF A WHITE GUY HAS THE PICK BETWEEN A WESTERN WOMAN AND AN ASIAN WOMAN- HE MOST LIKELY WILL PICK THE ASIAN WOMAN. OPEN YOUR EYES `LADIES`."

(Email ends)

(New Email)
From: XXX@XXXXX.com
To: chinadirt@gmail.com
Date: Jun 25, 2007 2:18 PM
Subject: ASIAN WOMEN
" ,LIKE MOST WESTERN MEN LOVE ASIAN WOMEN. QUIT WHINING AND FIND AN ASIAN BOYFRIEND."


Uh... now we're not quite sure what we did to this guy to make him SO angry that he apparently had to take a breather in his tirade. Also, please. Give the Caps Lock key a rest. Even if your message isn't so moronic, the fact that it's in all Caps makes you look like an idiot... an idiot that has to take breaks in between expressing a 5 second thought.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Oh the French...

Will the French never stop giving us things to make fun of them about? Not today! Thanks to XXXX XXXXX for helping us pick up the slack.

"My story is when I went to an event for work. at the start of the evening I met a charming French bloke who worked at some kind of bank/financial institute.

After the event we went to the next venue for a private dinner, ie more networking. during the networking we all relaxed (ie got pissed) and much fun was had by all. Making the rounds during the evening I bumped into the French bloke again and we started chatting and got along great. He seemed really fun, friendly, and was easy on the eye. Then, after much flirting and chatting, he noticed my gorgeous (Chinese) colleague and promptly started chatting her up instead. As she looks a bit like a supermodel, I shrugged it off. "Dem's da breaks" as they say and didn't think anything of it.

As it turns out, however, my colleague was interested in someone else, and gave the Frenchman the brush-off as soon as she could. At which point he turned back to me and started smooth-talking again. I clearly looked easier or something... He started off with smouldering looks, then leant closer and asked, "what do you say we go over to that corner there" at which point I replied, "uh ... why?" He then said, in all seriousness, "because I want to pull your dress down and see your breasts." Horrified, I tried my best not to give him the filthiest look possible, and, as I was still technically at work, didn't think it' d be a good idea to thump him. I tried laughing this off and saying, "well, y'know, that's not that good an idea ..." before swiftly changing the subject trying to forget it and cover up any potential embarrassment. But he persisted, "seriously, I think we should get together. why don't you want to?"

I told him that I was less than tempted after seeing him cracking on to my colleague for the best part of the last hour. I didn't think that was very sincere. Then I said something along the lines of someone so fickle would have trouble holding down a girlfriend. He then admitted that he did have a girlfriend after all ... but their relationship was fine. Obviously apart from him cheating on her at every turn. I made my hasty excuses after this revelation.

Perhaps that's not so much of a shocking story, but you said you were running low on material!"

Sunday, June 3, 2007

Walking in the city

Living fairly close to the bar areas of the city, I've taken a liking to walking everywhere especially as the weather turns warmer. Usually, I'm fairly paranoid about safety and back in my home country, I would never wander out into the city late at night without at least one or two friends in tow when walking anywhere. Though Beijing is a big city with it's share of big city crimes, in the bar areas it's crowded enough that I feel fairly comfortable going solo when en route to a destination.

Beijing's catcall to daylight ratio is an inverse one and as the sky darkens, the multitude of catcalls a solitary girl receives goes up exponentially. However local Chinese catcalls and expat catcalls vary substantially in delivery and subject matter. Like my home country, the expat catcalls here hinges on a yelled compliment ("Hey girl, you're lookin fiiiine!") or a inquiry as to your well being ("How you doin'?"). The local Chinese catcalls though are usually yelled out an open window of a car and always involve you joining them for a drink or for a ride in their car. Come to think of it, perhaps the local Chinese catcall isn't so much a catcall but a feeler for if you're a prostitute (hooker-call?).

What's the best catcall (or hooker-call) you've gotten? It's been eons since we last posted so we'll see if anyone really still reads this blog.

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

"You make me wanna... BLAHGHHGHGHHHHH"

In dating, there always seem to an inverse relationship between looks and brains that can be applied to either of the sexes. I had met S at a mutual friend's dinner. From across the room there was this gorgeous specimen of a man who definitely should have been squarely in the dumb-as-dirt quadrant on the brains to looks diagram; however, an hour into the dinner, I found myself bantering along. A couple days later, our dinnertime banter turned into work-hours MSN chatter. A week later, I found myself at a weekday dinner with him again, sans the other people.

Things were going great. Here was a guy seemed like the full package: funny, smart, good looking... So we made plans to meet up for a Friday night dinner and drinks. Dinner went much like all the other times, good food and good company, wherein he tossed back a several drinks. "Hey," I thought to myself, "it's a Friday night. He's probably just loosening up." After dinner we met up with his friends and he proceeded to buy everyone and himself drinks every ten minutes. "Wow, what a generous guy." I thought to myself as I sipped on my first drink and watched him and his friends toss back drinks like prohibition imminent and this was the last night to get their jollies in.

The drinks with friends turned into a game of pool with friends. As I watched him score the winning shot, I'll admit it, I was pretty turned on. After all, in the words of Napoleon Dynamite, "Girls like men with skills." His skill apparently was the ability to maintain good hand eye coordination even after consuming 9 gin and tonics. Hot stuff.

He came over to me with a proud grin on his face. "Good work," I congratulated him and gave him a squeeze on his arm. Then he pulled me closer and for the first time in two weeks, conversation halted. We kissed. It was magical. Birds sang, I felt woozy. Then we kissed some more... and some more...and then we became the couple that everyone (including myself) makes fun of at bars. But I didn't care. He was hot. He was funny. He was perfect. "How about we go somewhere else quieter?" he murmured in my ear. Heady from alcohol and the lack of oxygen during the last ten minutes, I nodded mutely.

He led me out of the rowdy pool hall, away from his buddies and we went in search of quieter environs. At the new bar (which happened to coincidentally be my favorite), we nestled up on a couch. He ordered us drinks. He ordered himself more drinks. He ordered himself more drinks again (I was still on my first). "Mmmm, C" he slurred slightly, "you're a good kisser." It's amazing how being good looking can make tottering drunkeness seem almost okay. "Thanks," I beamed. "No, really," he leaned closer, "you make me wanna...BLAGHGHHGHGHHGHGHGHG." To my horror (and his) instead of sweet nothings flowing from his mouth, there came a steady stream of that night's dinner floating in a river of alcohol splattering all over the floor and on my new Calvin Kleins. He lept up with alarm in his eyes and soundlessly sped out of the bar.

I haven't heard from him since. I have also not revisited that bar. So much for happy endings.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Can anyone read this? Who the fuck knows...

Yes, yes, yes. We've been extraodinarily lazy with blogspot on the fritz in China again. Good thing readers haven't been.

After we read this peice of email we didn't know whether to laugh or cry. So we did both... while eating a tub of Haagan Daaz.

"My name is M, and I would like to write an honest letter to you, with my point of view and life experience here in China.

When I first came to China I did so with a fiancée, but shortly afterwards (as other foreigners) I left my fiancée and began a life of “debauchery”. I guess I changed, or maybe this “dirty guy” has always being with me, but never allowed him to truly show himself until I came here. Or maybe was just temptation.

I am not handsome, and you would not spot me on the street, but I have learned my way in here. I began cheating on my fiancée, and cheating of the girlfriend I had afterwards, lying to whatever girlfriend I had so to sleep around with others, having at one point four girlfriends at the same time. Is nothing to be proud of, but is the truth.

Now I have evolved, I no longer cheat. I currently have several women, and while they don’t know about each other they know they are in a non-exclusive relationship. Some I seen daily, some weekly, some when I feel like. I change them from time to time, because more often than not they develop “feelings” for me and become more attached. Of course, having such stock at my disposal I don’t make space for monogamous relationships. Sometimes I play the gentleman, sometimes I play the bad boy, and at every turn I improve my game. I make women laugh and I make them suffer. Funnily, this combination works like a charm in most girls.

I just turned 30, and when I walk on the streets I realize how even a single smile grant me a one night stand. It happened to me more times I care to remember. How would I want to stop it? In my hometown we always say: Health, money and love, so I want you to think about this: Imagine you are in good health (thank god for condoms) and you have enough money. Now imagine love is all around. Imagine you can virtually have almost any boy or girl you fancy (I had from students to models), free or charge, who will try anything to win your heart, because you seem like a good guy to them. Would you say no to that?

I have a stable job, I cook, I clean the house, I dance salsa, I can speak a few languages and know many jokes, I love foreplay and I enjoy romantic movies. I am also respectful, and never give names of any woman I have been with. I don’t ask too many questions. And I am the prototype of the “new-age” laowai. More like us will come in the future, and more girls will come to mayor cities, providing us with the fun. At the end of the day, when they feel they can not marry any of us, they will settle for an old man or a Chinese guy of their age.

Sometimes I play the gentleman, sometimes I play the bad boy, and at every turn I improve my game. I make women laugh and I make them suffer. Funnily, this combination works like a charm in most girls.

Of course I did not get every single girl I tried to have sex with, but then again I have more chances than days in the week. This is my promise land.

You can not stop this, because nobody is being forced. The only losers are the ones taking things for granted. I don’t make promises, so if a girl thinks that because I had sex with her I will marry her, that is her own problem.

I don’t fall in love, although I occasionally get hurt, but is all worth. I love to have different women and different bodies whenever I please. Is the best feeling in the world.

This is not my only feeling. This is promise land for any man. There is no longer needed to have money or a position. And the best part is, most girls are even grateful. We always tell them white lies “sorry, I can not have this relationship because my mother disagree” “because I am sick” “because I work too many hours”…any noble excuse is enough, or even just disappear. The girl will believe you are a great guy, not knowing that we are already with another one.

I don’t look down on Chinese, or look down on girls. I don’t care. I am here to take as much as I can while I can. I am not evil, just a man. Maybe a man who is good in bed, but that’s all.

I am not trying to make any point. Just hope this letter can clarify things."

Sunday, April 1, 2007

Just a note...

With blogspot being blocked once again and us being incredibly not computer savvy, if you have a comment you're hoping for us to read, you'll have to email it to us directly. By the way, we know about anonymouse and conclude that, like many of the men we end up dating in China, its performance is spotty and inconsistent at best. ZING!

Friday, March 30, 2007

Profound thoughts

Proof that laowai men's brains turn to mush upon landing in China.

Overheard at the airport:

"So, is like the great wall built by humans or something?"

Friday, March 16, 2007

We're sorry for being so mean... HAHAHAHA

We usually post praise and we know we've been saying over and over "Anecdotes, anecdotes!" but this angry email was too good to not share. We left it in its original, glorious form: long winded and devoid of punctuation.

Dear China Dirt,

I must take exception to your comments. It is a basic tennant of logical debate to refrain from generalizations and vast wafting statements of fact with little of no referring or deference to saidfactual source.While there are some dead beats in China and all over the world forthat matter, your summation that all foreigners here are useless isin fact naive and telling of your own insecurities that you vicariously live out in denial while attacking others.

In the past China was a hardship post and jobs here reserved for the career expat worker, in recent times, the shift has moved from one of localization to that of younger self made foreign workers. As suchthe quantity of non Chinese speaking sleazy Shunyi expat men are reducing, so are the local losers who also don't speak or write Chinese and offer little sans teaching.

There was a saying back in HK called FILTH. Failed in London, Try Hong Kong. And while that is a common enough trait in any colonial empire, it is not to be mistaken for China and the difficulties here.The men that you dish dirt on - 25-35 years old, are far more equipped than you could ever hope to meet back home or in China 5 years ago for that fact. They are self made men, successfull at whatthey do, entrepreneurial, bi-lingual and full of potential bothacutal and yet to be realized. They come here because theenvironment is fertile enough for them to spread their seed and watch it grow (keep your thoughts above the gutter her Darling). The career english teacher hippy and the career Shunyi expat may well fit into your definition, but the rest of us don't. And do not lump the others in with the "Ex-Pat" label. They often are not expats but posted here for 1-2 years.

An expat is someonewho has migrated here and lives here indefinately with real roots,residential investments and spousal visa's and not work visa's and/or temporary business visa's. Again, self made men. Entrepreneurs. Wedidn't settle for the institutionlaisaton or "Truman Show Monotony"of home, so don't assume that we settle for your character assassinations or bile breathing beguiled remarks to other grumpy self loathers either. Go find a spaniard voter after a train bomb ifyou need that sort of self defeatism to perk you up.I have lived in China since 1999.

I have been married for 2 years, I hold degrees in Computer Science and Accounting, as well as a HSK certificate. I spend my time working, making money, playing squash and rugby and playing with my wife and puppy and helping my sister in law attend university here in Beijing from her small village inwestern Xinjiang. There are a lot of men like myself, most older,some younger (I am 30 this year). And we are quite capable of living back in our own countries and making lots of money there too and being responsible members of civic society. So why do we stay?

Well unlike you bitter, finger pointing women who have hang ups on Chinaand men here and are still "working for the man" we are off being ourown bosses and not salary whores and earning more and living life more here than back home. Anyway, if you don't like it? Piss off. China is not for everyone. Certainly least generalist nay sayers with chips on their shoulders,axes to grind who are living their lives here the same as they wouldback home - to some guidebook of life expectations. That is why you will not succeed in private business, love and China. You are too myopic, too bitter and too un suited for life in a place like this. There is no demographic for people like you.

You may not be an english teacher or a man married to a broken english speaking local. Yet as evidinced by your regaling of pub trawls and misadventures,you are not living in the same strata that successfull people here do- otherwise you would not have the opinions that you do. Justbecause you are a foreinger does not place you above others. Andjust because you are not an english teacher, that also does not placeyou above other foreigners. You really have little comprehension ofjust how disconnected you are from the real expat and successful Sinophile scene.You are all a dime a dozen. People like you come and go. I have seen it many a time in the past 8 years. You will amount to nothing and you will leave no mark on China or anything of significance thatis attributed to your ingenuity, hard work and creative approach tothis vast fertile land. Life is too short for people like you, enjoy your solace in myopic bigotry spawned hate my darling.

Your blog is being forwarded around through the sporting and China Entrepreneur mailing lists. You have offended and marginalised a lot of honest men here with this divisive racially and socially subjective discourse that your call a blog. How about you state your constructs more clearly with an apology to the rest of us while you are at it?

It is being laughed at and LBH t-shirt discussions and a national LBH t-short wearing drink-a-thon festival is already in the embryonic stages.

If you can't get what your want, either learn what it is that you are messing up, or build a bridge and get over it. Who cares if a bunch of lame arse frat boy wannabe's arse it up around town on a weekend. Good for them. Who are you to judge them and their attitudes. Who are you to complain about it and frame it as a indictment of foreign men formulating their behaviour through the prism of China? People are arseholes, the world is full of them - just don't be one of them.

You think it is bad now. You should speak to my ex-girlfried who I am still mates with on her experiences back in 1997 - why I came to China. And if you haven't been in China longer than 5 years you will have no persective to judge the differences in BJ compared to other cities and how this city has changed so much and how life is different for all, foreigners included. A little bit of research and anecdotal comparisons of 2007 vs 2002 may open up your eyes to the real cause of your apparent LBH trend.

I'll give you a little hint, use the explosion of Wudaokou urban in fill post Solutions bar era and Sanlitun post Qi Lin Da Sha makeover as metaphors for the changing city and demographic.........then think Russia in 1991.

You are a "Tourist" in the Fight Club sense of the word and because of that, you have placed yourself directly in line with these people. That is why you find them to exist everywhere. Try stepping out of your little "me too" bubble of China and experience the full buffet before commenting further.

RF

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

China Dirt Goes International

Not so long ago we received the following email:

Hi,

My expat friend in China sent me your link and I love your site. Especially that bit on Parisians. I laughed uncontrollably as I read that piece. Being a foreign girl, I find from swapping stories with other expat females, many of the stories are similar. (Although, I must admit the expat men that go to China seem to be ATORCIOUS reminders of the slimeball hs kid with too much acne and the 24/7 porno high-look.) I’m an American and Korean girl (horrid combo to be in, my “exotic” foreign look and thick American accent seems to scream, “PLEASE OBJECTIFY ME!” or “FOLLOW ME HOME!”) in Paris and I have never been as objectified or glad to have a home in the red white and blue. I’d love to share some of them and I’m sure other expat girls around the world would love to share theirs too.

-J

We immediately responded with a "mais oui!" and two days later, a nice, plummy story about love (or lack thereof) in Paris landed in our email box. Read on...

Not So Much Fancy Lover as much as Fancy Rapist

Okay, the story isn’t as severe as the title. But, it still is the most appropriate for lack of a better word as you will soon see. So herein begins my first and what I hope to be my only naive sleaze accident with a French man. I had just arrived in France a month ago still trying to figure out the details of culture shock. For the most part, I could tell, in France, hobos on the street and random old men had license to follow you around, even at times physically tug at you, offer you money, and at the very least, drop a line, like, “Vous etes belle, ma cherie. Zoo you hab a bouyfliend?”, which despite an affirmative response is returned with “But, you can hab two.” It also did not help that my cheap craigslist find was in a shady district with neighbors warning me of the drug dealers on the street.

Needless to say, I was very happy and optimistic when I met, - ohhhh for anonymity’s sake, let’s call him - Slimeball #1. He was in his 20’s, often hung out with a gorgeous model, and in other respects seemed completely sane. He had happened to notice my fluffy dog at the cafe a couple times and eventually, this led into a conversation, wherein he discovered I was from the States and I discovered he wanted to practice his English. He eventually invited me to sit with his friends at the café. Upon discovering I hadn’t toured Paris yet, he offered to be my tour guide on a free weekend, and he expressed keen interest in obtaining a similar tour guide if he were ever in the States. Wow, at this point all seemed like a natural fair deal between two people of the opposite sex with no other intentions than an exchange of language and culture. But somethings are too good to be true.

The tour seemed to be fairly innocent. In fact, in general, he was a nice gentleman and he certainly did make that weekend more pleasant than it could’ve been spent alone battling French bureaucracy. Afterwards he invited me for tea and when I arrived for tea-time at his apt joined again by some other friends. Harmless enough right?

The next night he invited me over for tea again; however this time when I arrived, I discovered it was just me. Great. I knew that it would be extremely rude of me in the French culture to cut the evening short and leave early, so despite being alone, I said nothing and sipped my tea politely; my first mistake.

I was soon to find out etiquette was only part of his dangerous con. It was probably an hour later, I found the room really hot and I could feel my heart beating. As an anemic, I didn’t think it was caused by anything external but my own dizzy inclinations. I asked for some water and as he walked to the kitchen he chuckled and my haphazard French picked up something like, “I purposely put more in, so you’d have to stay over.”

Me: What?!
Him: Haha. I will return with your watah.
Had I imagined it? My French was spotty.

Man, second mistake. Feeling sick I asked him to walk me to my ghetto street but he declined saying he had to wake up early but he said he wouldn’t mind if I waited off at his place. So, instead of stumbling to my ghetto street lined with drug dealers, I decided to wait off the buzz from the “tea”, which found me 30 mins later dozing off on his couch. Unfortunately, 15 mins later I found my hands being caressed, and I mean the unsexy kind, where he’s playing circle circle dot dot from third grade, and his skinny French arms pulling me into an embrace. Gross!

Me: What are you doing!
Him (with the ever so innocent puppy eyes): You don’t like it?

Like it? What the hell? Since when did somnambulism under sleep-inducing tea equal consent?!

Me: What?! I’m leaving.
Him: If you go… I’m not going to be your friend anymore!

Friend? I think we crossed that line when he practically tried to rape me in my sleep. Okay, it wasn’t rape per say, but being cuddled in sleep induced by him isn’t consent.

Me: I don’t care. I’m leaving.
Him: If you go, I’ll take you off my Buddy list!

Oh man… Buddy list? This guy really must’ve been stuck in the primary school years. As if my biggest worry was not being on his list of friends. I bolted out of there and just to rub it in his face, I laughed in his face as I left. Vindictive, but totally justified. If this had been home, I could have called the police.

The amazing thing about not just rapist but French men in general, is that despite the rejections, they keep coming back as if they were the nicest, most innocent gentleman. Primary school slime rapist #1, yeah I feel like calling him that now, still texts me every 2-3 months with something like, “Hello, How are you? You forget me? Missing you. Bisous.” Ewww… shudder. It’s a good thing I screen.

For the record, ever since, I haven’t visited any French men’s homes unless accompanied by a mutual female friend, or for that matter spoken to any unless he was my waiter or my employer. I’ve even earned a couple, “Casse-toi, Bitch!” by angry snubbed men. (What a double standard, huh?) But, even Puritanism gets shady, as slime rapist #1 was followed by slimeball #2, slimeball #3 as well as the additions I can make for my other expat friends. But those are shocking stories reserved for other times. In the meantime, now I understand how a country like France could wait until 1944 to enfranchise their women.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Why I'll never understand men

When I first moved to Beijing, I got myself a boyfriend and was quickly sucked into the expat party circuit. My Thursday through Saturday nights were a constellation of destinations like Kai, Nanjie, Vics, Taku (I was living out in the Wu at that time) and other ever-so-classy spots. One night, boyfriend, me and friends were out in Sanlitun when a table of Americans, two guys and two girls, sat down near us. As the night progressed it seemed that no matter where we were on the Sanlitun strip, the same group was in our vicinity. Finally around 3am one of the girls of the group approached me and I had one of the weirdest conversations I'd ever had in my life.

GIRL (pointing at my boyfriend): "Is that your boyfriend?"
ME: "Yeah."
GIRL (pointing back at nervous looking guy behind her): "My friend thinks you're amazingly cute. You should go say hi."
ME: "Um... I'll have to pass on that. You see I'm already with someone. Thanks though."

As I turn to escape, she clamps onto my arm and pulls me close to her and whispers hurriedly, "No, I mean my friend really likes you. I think he's going to fight your boyfriend."
ME: "..."
GIRL: "Really, my friend wants to fight your boyfriend."
At this point, I looked over to see her friend glowering in the direction of my boyfriend.

I'm a fairly tolerant drunk having done a fair amount of silly things when under the influence but even my alcohol blitzed mind, I was bowled over by the ridiculousness of the situation. The whole thing was a flashback to middle school minus the note saying "Do you like me? Circle Yes or No" and dripping with a John Wayne machismo that I never find attractive.

I was actually at a loss for words and, if you've read the posts on this blog, you can probably guess that rarely ever happens. As my alcohol-soaked, mind slowly chugged away at what to say to duck out of the situation, I see her friend coming at us as his friend's hand held me firmly in place.

HIM: "I'm from California. I like you. You're too good for that guy you're with."
ME: "Oh, you gathered all that from stalking us tonight? I gotta go."
HIM: "... Ok, but you want to get my number just in case?"
ME: "If we're meant to be together I'm sure I'll see you around."

I then yanked my arm out of his friend's grasp and walked quickly away. Where was my then-boyfriend during all this? Downing shots in the back of the bar oblivious to what happened. I soon tired of doing the 10pm-6am drink fests and decided to drop that lifestyle and the boyfriend. As for the guy at the bar who wanted to fight my boyfriend, I never saw him again so I guess it wasn't meant to be. Darn.

Monday, March 12, 2007

numeration and clarification

Sorry we haven't been posting. With all the emails and comments, it's been far easier and more time-efficient to just kind of let the comments and emails run their natural course. However, with reading the comments and our slew of emails, we at China Dirt feel compelled to remind everyone what this blog is about and what it is not about. Read on...

1. We are not here to try and get dates. Please stop sending us emails with "advice" about how we're never going to snag a man.

2. Guys get away with a lot in China, moreso than in their home countries. Once again, this is a fact, not something that we fabricated. Given that point, guys in China also oftentimes act in a way that they would not act in their home countries given the social constraints and standards of decorum there. We're not quite sure about why some people may think this blog is meant to be illuminating on China as a whole or provide some sort of insightful commentary on the culture of the country.

This blog is meant to give anecdotal accounts of idiotic guy behavior in the context of China. If the story is about a guy and he acts idiotically and this something we experienced in China, then it ends up on the blog. If you want to read blogs that delve deep into the psyche of the Chinese culture and history, you've taken a wrong turn and took yourself to a dark, dark place. To escape we suggest visiting this site.

3. Please stop with the "common denominator is you" and "why don't you look at yourself" emails and comments. A. We never had this much trouble finding a decent guy in our home countries yet in China it's one loser after another. *

B. As for the, "look at yourself before you start blaming other people," we'd like to refer to a scene in Bridget Jones' Diary. (Once again, if you were looking for a complex and riveting social commentary on China, please stop reading now.) It's the scene where Bridget tells Mark Darcy something to the effect of, "You neednt make me feel stupid, I feel stupid on my own most of the time."

Do you really think we bounce from relationship to relationship pointing the finger at the other person shrieking, "It's you DAMMIT, It's YOU AND NOT ME!"? Well, maybe. We're here to tell you that's not the case. Often we find girls painstakingly analyzing how she can make her relationship work. How she can modify the way she acts, how she should loosen up and go with the flow more. A girl who is rationalizing lowering her standards. We at China Dirt say No More Rationalizing. So you want someone who's life ambition goes beyond getting trashed every weekend, you want a guy who stays not just when things are going well but when things need to be worked through. Why shouldn't you get one like that? It's not impossible to find someone like that in China, but it's pretty fucking hard.

*To preempt the comment that goes "Well if you had such a decent guy in your home country, why are you alone and dating in China?" We're dating in China because obviously, for whatever reason, those relationships didn't work out; however, our home country relationships ended because it just wasn't working out and not because a. the guy was an alcoholic b. the guy had an over-inflated ego c. the guy bolted at the first sign of difficulty or d. mix and match choices a through c.

4. It's our blog and we'll bitch if we want to. This site is how we deal with our frustrations about the dating scene in China. Anyone reading has probably experienced the pain of a break up or complained about a unreasonable significant other. Some girls deal with break ups by sobbing into pillows, some burn the ex-boyfriend's posessions, some (true story) stab the guy with butter knives, we've decided to make a snarky blog. We know that we're all taught to hold in our emotions, to play off the hurt, to keep the pride. Sometimes you need to be messy before you can start playing it cool. This site lets girls do that.

5. Girls with personality and who know how to speak their own minds are a "pain in the ass"? China is too fucking easy for you guys.

6. We realize that we've been throwing a lot of 'tude around in this post so we'd like to take number six to thank all our readers (even those who are vocal in their disagreements). We appreciate and are a bit shocked by the attention this blog has gotten. We're glad that the blog has taken a life of its own and hope to keep up the momentum. We also hope that people keep sending us more stories and this site can be a collection of anecdotes rather than just general rants because generally ranting tends to get boring and old rather quickly.

A reporter recently asked us how we feel about the "personal attacks" we've been getting on the site and our view is that everyone is welcome to their own opinion. We've certainly stated ours and most of them are quite unflattering so of course we expect emails that are unflattering towards us. That being said, take the blog for what it is and judge it on that platform. Thanks for all the feedback and like typical girls we hope to get more, more, more in the future.

Keep Dishing,
China Dirt

Thursday, March 8, 2007

Hardass Western Girls

Yesterday, I met a man. Not in a bar, not in a club, not somewhere sleazy. We met at 798. I'm giving out this detail to indicate why I was more receptive than usual to chatting with this guy since we weren't in a cheapie, hookup joint. He seemed nice so I agreed to meet him that evening for a quick drink at Centro. Ok, not the most creative location but hey, it's down the street from my office and due to the sad lack of chivalry in this town, I considered his willingness to brave traffic down from 798 to CBD as a grand gesture. (Hey, when you're starving, any crumb of bread looks delicious!)

He paid for the first round of martinis. I insisted on covering the second round. "Ah, you Western girls," he said appreciatively in his sexy northern European accent. "Nice to be out with a girl who can treat me." I smiled, pleased.

Two martinis for each of us later, the mood was relaxed and the chat was getting flirtatious. But it was a work night so around midnight, I indicated that I was ready to go home. "Your place or mine?" he asked, patting my bum.

I scooted away from his hand. "I'm going home to sleep."

"Sure you are," he laughed and winked.

"No, really."

He looked shocked. Shaking his head in disbelief he walked off, but not before muttering "Damn hardass Western girls."

Since when did buying a girl one martini entitle a man to public groping and an assumption of sex? Oh yea, in China.

If "western girl" means having enough self-respect not to hop into bed with a man I've known for less than six hours in gratitude for one lousy 60 kuai dry martini, then I'm proud to be a hardass Western girl.

Wednesday, March 7, 2007

Reader Submission

We've gotten off our lazy asses and have managed to hit Ctrl+C and Ctrl+V in that sequence. Thanks for the entry M. Keep them coming girls! While we don't advocate racial stereotyping, we figure the Parisians have already been made fun of so... why not add another country into the melee?

"I'd like to make an addition to the China Dirt lexico - Former Eastern Bloc Sleaze, or FEBS for short. Don't get me wrong. I'm not racist or anything (I'm half Polish/half Czech, by the way), but there are so many of these guys around town (apparently all here on "beesneez") that it definitely deserves a category of its own.

Ladies, you know what I'm talking about. You've been FEBBED if he:

a. his wardrobe consists of mesh muscle shirts
b. sounds like Borat's cousin
c. hits on anything that has a pulse

I've been seeing a FEBS for about a month now, after a disastrous relationship with another for about two years (okay, so I have soft spot. shoot me). Granted, some FEBS are pretty charming at first (it's like finding really cute vintage Italian or French designer at a second hand store). And they're really good at chess and stuff (no joke, all of them are like Superduper grandmasters or something). And, to be fair, they can be pretty chevliarous. But after a while, Count Dracula shows his true face. The FEBS they start expecting you to behave like you're thier property.

So being the redblooded southern girl that I am, I'm like, "Fuck. That. I'm AMERICAN. You can't treat me like your serf!" And then the FEBS accuses me of invading Iraq or ruining his culture with McDonalds or some bullshit. Ugh!

Example: We went to Nan Jie last Friday with some of his Euro/Latin friends. We get in and he literally pats me on the behind and tells me to "go graze." Maybe his English is not stellar, but am I his goat or something? I give him the benefit of the doubt and I go get a few drinks at the bar. I'm talking to this really cute Chinese guy, and my FEBS gets really jealous and start making fun of the guy by going "Chingching chongchong" and pulling his eyelids like he's Asian. Uhh... I couldn't believe how insensitive/stupid he was. Is he in seventh grade?

Here's the kicker: my FEBS tells me, verbaitim, "Man, talk. Women, listen." Earth to FEBS: Misogyny does not get you laid.

PS. I haven't spoken to him for five days. I heard he was hitting on drunk girls at a party on Saturday night. ugh."

Tuesday, March 6, 2007

The Running Man (or as commenter Meursault says, "The Gypsy")

Dear Running Man,

You came along when I was slaving away at a job in which each day felt like a tour through every layer of Dante's Inferno. You were like a breath of fresh air rushing through lungs that were drying out from ten hours a day in hell. You taught me to relax. You taught me there was more to life than work, work, work. You assured me that it was OK and even noble to enjoy life.

You seemed to live life so well. "He seems so calm, so happy, so Zen," I thought to myself, "whereas I'm always frantic and stressed." Looking around at the stacks of reports and screen full of unanswered work emails that made up my life, I realized that my long hours in the eternally 23 degrees celsius office had robbed me of the knowledge of even what season it was outside. I decided you, with your carefree manner, jovial laugh and long nights spent bonding with friends, had a better way. Almost spiritual.

I learned a lot from my time with you. I learned to live in the moment. I learned to put friends ahead of meetings. I learned that an extra hour of intimate late night conversation is well worth being tired the next day. I learned to leave work behind when I exit the office.

But the biggest lesson I learned is that you're not the deep, spiritual, life-embracing man I thought you were. You're just a scared little boy.

Your call for another round of drinks may seem to everybody else simply merrymaking but I've learned it's a way for you to numb whatever is hidden deep inside. Staying out with the boys for just a little longer is a way to avoid being alone, and later, avoid dealing with problems at home. Your disdain of being tied to an office, or any job, isn't a noble rejection of "evil corporate culture," it's a refusal to acknowledge that there are responsibilities in life.

I admired the way you seemed to embrace life. But life consists of more than just what's happy, easy and carefree. Truly embracing life means accepting the difficulties as well. It means recognizing that there are obligations to fulfill, bills to pay, arguments to work through, illnesses to battle, jobs to lose and jobs to gain, hard times to comfort one another through, unexpected circumstances to contend with and problems to solve. It means recognizing that a fulfilling life is not handed to you on a platter but something you work to create.

You're quite the traveler. The pins upon the world map you have on your wall, marking where you've been, are so many that if I squint a little, the numerous metallic pintips blur the whole paper into a sheet of gray. But you don't travel just to see new places. You travel to run away from an old place whenever the realities of life catch up there.

I have no doubt what you will do. Another place. I've already heard you mention the plans. And don't think I haven't heard the rumors of the lovely new travel partner. It doesn't matter. Real men don't hide by roaming distant streets or finding comfort in another's arms. Real men stay and embrace all that life offers-the good, the bad, the easy, the difficult.

They say you can run but you can't hide. I don't think that's true. You've been doing both successfully for so long. But if you ever stop running for just a moment and look around, you'll find that all you have are quirky travel stories, boxes filled with pictures of exotic lands, a map punctured with holes, but nobody real to hold while you stand still.

Monday, March 5, 2007

Love us or hate us

Everyone is talking about us. Our ears are growing warm from all the attention.

We apologize for being so lax in responding to comments and emails but it seems like our readers are doing a good job picking up our slack.

Thursday, March 1, 2007

In reference to the previous entry, "J" commented: Apparently your website is working, you've civilized every expat male in the Beijing area. Congrats!

Oh J! I wish! I so wish! Sadly that was a culture shock story involving a place that most certainly isn't Beijing.

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Bizarro Land

The whole evening was so civilized I hardly knew what to do with myself. Not once did an overweight, balding, white man twice my age try to drag me onto the dancefloor. In fact, there wasn't even one of those around! Not once did I trip over an adolescent kid passed out on the floor. When making small talk, I was shocked to find that everybody had a job! Not once did I hear the words/phrases "chic," "hot mamma," "pussy," "fuckable" or "get me some tail tonight." No Frenchman licked my arm! No Frenchie stalked me into a cab! No guy tried to impress me with the fact that he knew how to say hello (badly!) in the local language. The man who offered to buy me a drink actually had enough cash on him to pay for it!

Oh, Toto, we're not in Beijing anymore!

Thursday, February 22, 2007

The Alcoholic aka Many Expat Men in Beijing

I had a harsh epiphany about my on again, off again boyfriend/ex-boyfriend the other day. These exact words crossed my mind:

"He will never love me as much as he loves beer."

Ok, you can stop cracking up. Hilarious, yes. But it was a completely serious and honest thought. Sad, isn't it? I know, I know, there are those sayings about why beer is better than a girlfriend and the female response about why cucumbers are better than men, but all kidding aside, it's maddening and sobering to realize that no matter how sweet and warm I am, or aloof and challenging, no matter how much or little love I shower on him, no matter what memories we create or experiences we have, his greatest passion in life will always be another round of beers at Kai. This is a man who was unconcerned about how he would pay the next month's rent but nearly had an anuerysm when he realized the bar down the street no longer gave discounts for Yanjing ordered in bulk.

It's one thing to realize you can never live up to an ex-girlfriend who broke his heart, or his perfect mother, or know he'll never be more devoted to you than to his job, but it's truly frightening when you realize his search for the meaning of life ends and begins anew each time the bar closes and opens.

This didn't seem so clear to me when I was in Beijing since drinking is such a big part of the expat culture. But every once in a while you travel and being away from that scene and seeing how men in other parts of the world don't equate blacking out at brothels filled with Mongolian hookers to a successful weekend has lifted the haze from my brain.

Suddenly, I'm free. With this epiphany, I can stop wondering what's wrong with me because it's obviously his problem. "Problem" is a nice way of saying "raging alcoholic in desperate need of an intervention." But of course, in Beijing expat life, where a Monday isn't a Monday unless you hear the sentence "Man, I was so fucking hammered this weekend," or "Dude, I don't remember a thing after the 5th rack of shooters," or "I've never puked that much in my entire life," any suggestion of moderation would get you blacklisted as a party-pooping Mormon.

In reference to a previous entry in which a girl ranted about how her man left her in search of God, well, at least your ex-boyfriend is not worshipping at an alter that looks suspiciously like a keg.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Angry Reader Submission

In the course of writing this blog, we've realized that we can't be beloved by everyone. Apparently our rantings have hit a nerve. Here's D's own rants against ours. Usually we've been waiting at the end of stories to add our own little tidbit but as D's email was full of questions and firm statements, it makes sense to retort in a more timely manner:

"I am getting tired of hearing women rag on expat men all the time. I know this is meant to be a way of women to cope with problems they have with dating men in China but why do I an expat man keep being told."
Hm... even though you did not end that in a question mark, you do indeed mean it as a question. The answer to your query is that men do stupid things. The trend in our circles happens to be biased towards EXPAT men doing stupid things. We'll be the first to point out and openly invite stories targeting at all races and not just expat guys but you have to admit, this particular group makes themselves an easy target.

If you are a decent human being, then our posts should be mere vicarious stories for you to gasp in horror to just like the rest of us. If you do, indeed feel like we are addressing you personally, then well... what can we say? Perhaps a deeper, introspective look at your own flaws would be better than asking rhetorical questions and not punctuating them correctly.

Yes, a female friend of mine sent me this link. All this site does is stereotype. For example, That Chinese girls are submissive and do what you want.
Um... D. We've been trying very hard NOT to stereotype but if you have to get down to it, stereotypes exist because deep down there's a basis of truth. We have never said that ALL Chinese girls are submissive; however, we will stick by our statements that a number of them probably do not stick up for themselves the way they should. Our own guy friends who have dated Chinese girls have reflected this back to us so you know, if other people think it too it MUST be true.

I having a relationship with a Chinese girl she is good looking but I have dated women at the same level back in the states. To be honest she is so much more work than any American girl I have ever had. First of all just randomly she is mad because I broke some Chinese dating custom that I had no idea even existed.
Ok we'll give you this one. That does happen quite a bit, but did she blow up at you and straight up tell you to your face or did she just seethe silently and swallow her anger?

Also, she was raised by an upper middle class family, just like mine, but her parents spoiled the crap out of her so she tried to act like a spoiled child and I have to stop that. I have never put this much work in a relationship in my life.
Agreed. Acting as a parent and a significant other is a pain.

You guys always complain about expat men sleeping with Chinese women but most of you won’t even touch a Chinese guy because I don’t know why. I met many Chinese men that are great guys in any country but no expat women will date them. I know 50 expat women some friends some you just see at a party and I only know one who dates a Chinese man. He a good guy sometimes they have problems but who doesn’t.
Um... was that a question again?

If expat men are so terrible why not find a good Chinese man? There is like 700 million of them so even if 1 out of 100 of them is good there are enough men in china for the expat girls.
Hm... right 700 million. There's 1.3 billion Chinese total. I'm not sure if your number is correct there D. If we take out all the people living in the countryside because we love nature but that doesn't mean we want to be wives of farmers, old people, young kids, married men I'm pretty sure your 700million gets whittled down quite a bit.

Not sure if you've tried it but finding a good Chinese man is pretty hard. It's not like the streets are exactly filled with good-looking, funny, socially adjusted Chinese men are they? We're not against dating Chinese guys but you're attracted to who you're attracted to. Lets be honest, Chinese women are often MUCH better looking than Chinese guys. We'd dare say its a 10 to 1 ratio of hot Chinese women to hot Chinese guys. Yeah, you can blabber on about how that's SO superficial but attraction is important. More often than not the hot, funny, cool Chinese guy, already has an even hotter, cooler and funnier Chinese girlfriend so how can we even compete?

Personality is important too and oftentimes many single Chinese guys (and expats) are lacking in that arena as well. If there is a hot, available non-douchbaggy Chinese guy please let us know. We'll be more than happy to date him.

Lets look at the post for January, “Bad Kisser”, your going to give us shit because one 20 something can’t kiss.”
First off: your, you're

Did you finish reading that story D? Because, not only was he a bad kisser, he said he wanted the opportunity to "fuck her"? Perhaps the derision towards this guy lies more in his tactless request of pussy rather than his lack of skill. Then again, if you're kissing so hard that a girl's lip ring pops out you're a terrible kisser and all her friends and your friends know. Random strangers on China Dirt laughing at you is kinda moot at that point.

The Finding Himself Man”, you dated a lazy fucker, there everywhere.
And an unsually high concentration reside in China!

Where were your friends? If you were my friends I would have told you he was a lazy fucker.”
Good for you. Your friends must love you for your honesty and bashing the people they care about. Of course we told her that her boyfriend wasn't the best for her, but in the end, its her choice isnt it? She chose to put up with it until she couldn't anymore. Being a friend isn't forcing other friends into your point of view, it's being there when they're ready to admit to themselves that it's a mistake.

A Cynic’s View of Sexpat Men: The Sleaze Ratings (Low to High)”, this is ok because it at least admits it is meant to be stereotyping. Also, a little funny. My wraith is waning so now I am going to stop typing. Answer the question why only a few expat women date Chinese men.
Whew, thanks for that email D. We're glad your "wraith" is waning.

Monday, February 12, 2007

The Latter Day Saint (LDS)

Thanks for the plug That's BJ!

Ironically, just days after you published that blurb, I was having dinner with a girl friend of mine when I noticed she was looking slightly off color and frazzled. "What's up with you?" I inquired as any good, girl friend who notices frazzledness in another would. "I'm frustrated," she replied sourly.

I clucked sympathetically "Work's got you down?" I asked throwing in an "I'm sorry" headtilt in for good measure to make sure she knew I was feeling her pain.

"No." she snapped, eyes aflash with annoyance, "I'm sexually frustrated."

"What?! What happened to your boyfriend of four months? Did something happen?" I was stunned. Here was a girl who, out of all the slimeballs covering the city managed to actually get what seemed like a decent, functioning guy. Of course the only snag to this guy was his love of the Good Book and the Lord's word and Jesus Saves etc etc while. my friend took more of a Switzerland approach to religion. That is to say, she just stayed uninvolved. Despite the religious chasm, the relationship blossomed and for a bit it seemed like God was smiling on the pair.

Unfortunately for my friend, God had recently decided to stop smiling down and rained down a wrath that manifested itself inside her boyfriend as a form of intense guilt over performing months and months of carnal sin. Oh the horror! Well that was enough for was for him to repent his sinner ways. And for the last two weeks, he had abruptly stopped all amorous advances. Think 1950's, I Love Lucy, two beds in the bedroom bad and that's what my poor friend was enduring.

"I mean for Christsake, I touch myself more than he touches me!" she wailed miserably into her mint gelato stabbing it with her spoon. "This fucking ice cream is getting more action than I will probably."

What could I say? I mean is there any words of comfort to soothe the sting of sex denial? Stupid boyfriend of my friend, couldn't you have figured out your moral convictions before happily jumping in the sack with her for the last four months? Jesus Christ.

Friday, February 9, 2007

Check Please

Here's a reader submission from T.

"Good Grief! Thanks China Dirt for pulling the curtain on the sham that is expat men in China! It's so good to have found a kindred spirit.

In fairytales, the toad turns into a prince after a kiss. In Beijing, the prince turns into a toad.

In the most recent installment of the horror flick that is dating in Beijing, I met this expat guy. Let's call him "The Pretender." I met him at The Bookworm through a friend. At first I thought he had "dating material" written all over him. I mean, cute smile, great sense of humor, and maybe the only guy in this city who doesn't smoke (I hate a guy who smells like an ashtray!). We texted a few times, and the banter was pretty hot. So I was happy to go to a dinner with him the following weekend. THAT was a mistake! I mean, it started out pretty good. I'm a vegetarian and he was pretty respectful of that. We settled on Hatsune. We talked about him, mostly. He is an English teacher, but making a documentary about AIDS in China (I wish I'd only read your post on FHM's). He recommend a pretty pricey glass of wine for me and a beer for himself. I found that to be sexy because I like a take charge kind of guy.

That all changed, however... (For all you guys reading this, there are some things you SHOULD know! If you ask a girl out on a date, you should pay. Period. I believe in equal rights and everything, but it's not rocket science that a little chivalry gets you a long way)
So the check came and the following conversation was had:

Me: "So thanks for dinner! That was great"
TP: "Uh... so you owe like 150?"
Me: "Ex...Excuse me?"
TP (showing me the mai dan):"Yeah, so you had a glass of wine, which was a little bit more than my beer"
Me: (thinking) "Are you being facetious, you cheap bastard?"
Me: (actually) "Um, okay?"

I shoulda taken this as a warning sign. But like the romantic masochist that I am, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. So he invited me back to his apartment to watch "Apocalypto" (which is the worst date movie EVER, btw), for some reason I agreed. And by "apartment," he meant skanky dorm room. Almost immediate upon entering his v. humble abode, he almost toppled me over in an attempt to marry his tongue to my tonsils.

Me: "Umm, hello?"TP: "shhhh."
Me: "What's the rush?"(let's just pause for dramatic effect here)
TP: "I can't have girls over in my dorm after 11, but I just wanted to express my feelings"

WHAT? Did that just happen? Are we in boarding school? I am utterly mystified by how guys like this are allowed to exist. If you're going to be this lame, at least lie about it."

Guys like this ARE allowed to exist. For about a week, I was having a really terrible time at work and the boy I had just recently started dating called me up and said he wanted to take me to dinner bc "I was having such a rough week." Apparently his interpretation of taking me out was to pay for the taxi but split the final check.

Wednesday, February 7, 2007

Reader submission

Hello loyal fans and our ever-growing circle of people who hate us. You may have notice that activity on China Dirt has been rather sparse but we opened our email box the other day and lo and behold, we see emails! So, it seems that though we've gotten lax and sedentary, others have taken up the call for us. We will be posting reader postings every other day (we have to space them out you know so it seems like we're actually doing something other than being lazy bitches).

Here's the latest atrocity from E:

"This the latest in appauling expat male behaviour...my housemate was sleeping around while his Chinese "girlfriend" was in hospital for a week being treated for CANCER. Incredible. "

Incredible wasn't the word that popped in to our minds. The word that we thought of starts with a douche and ends with a bag and maybe has huge thrown up there at the front.

Monday, January 29, 2007

Reader Submission

Here's a post by Margot. Keep sending those emails ladies!

Thanks for a great blog - I've been really enjoying it, and given the dating scene here, you'll never run short of material.

My greatest piss-off these days is the aggressive expat males down at the nightclub, who seem to think that any Asian girl is fair game for their pathetic advances.

I take a lot of my Chinese female friends to the nightclub to have a good time and dance, but unfortunately I'll spend most of my time protecting them from the unwanted physical attention of these expat losers. Because of a few loose Chinese girls, these guys don't seem to recognize that their attempts at leg humping or butt grinding on the dance floor aren't being appreciated. A note to these guys: When the girl is shrinking away from you, looking at the floor and protectively crossing her arms over her chest and looking scared, she's not into you! She's just too polite to tell you to fuck off! So don't give me the evil glare when I have to physically interpose myself to get you off of her - you never had a chance anyway!

Oh - and to the 50+ something geezer who physically hauled my friend (25 yr old law graduate) on to the dance floor at Alfa, against her continuing protestations, so that I actually had to push you away from her so she could go back to her table, at which time you smirked at me and said, "Oh, is that not allowed?": NOT ALL CHINESE GIRLS ARE PROSTITUTES, YOU PATHETIC LOSER!! Go back to the all-service massage parlour where at least the girls get paid to put up with you!

Sunday, January 28, 2007

The Cry on my Shoulder Man

We've gotten a lot of questions lately about the purpose of this blog...it all began when a few disheartened and disenchanted young women got together and began venting our frustrations about the men around us. As we shared our stories, we noticed common threads of loserness, (yes, in our world that's a word) among the male characters in our lives. We felt the need to document the phenomena, in case anthropologists in the future ever decide to study the mass exodus of expat women from Beijing. But seriously, we all found great comfort and strength in our sisterhood and realized there are some things that only other women can understand. There are indeed some great guys out there who make wonderful friends but as hard as they try they can never truly empathize and relate the way girlfriends can. So this site is an extension of our sisterhood for all the down and out women of Asia (and our male supporters). We hope the site will grow to contain a good dose of humor as well as heartfelt submissions. Thanks for your support.

So, speaking of guy friends who are there for you in your time of need....here's a story we heard recently...

The Cry On My Shoulder Man

"So I hear you two broke up," the guy friend says over the phone. Funny, I hadn't told him. Guess word got out. That was fast. Is there a BBS somewhere documenting my relationship status?

"It's going to be ok. I will be right over," he cooes into the phone.

"But it's 1am and I'm actually about to sleep," I protest.

"No, no, you must not be alone at a time like this. I will be there for you."

That's awfully sweet, I think. Maybe not all men are pigs. I prepare my flat for company. Throw the mound of wet tissues into the basket, take down the dartboard mounted with the ex-boyfriend's head shot, etc.

The friend shows up with a bottle of Great Wall red wine. "To calm your nerves," he says.

Barely fifteen minutes and a few gulps of acidic wine later, my stoic mask cracks and I'm sobbing on his shoulder. He holds me tight. Somewhere in between hysteria and hyperventilation he takes my head in both hands, looks me straight in the eyes and says "Listen, you're too good for him. You're beautiful and smart and sweet and funny and he doesn't deserve you."

I perk up, the way a starving cat perks up upon hearing the distant chime of a dinner bell. After having my ego sliced and diced recently, it's a relief to hear something like that. What a great friend, I think again. I give him a little hug and am about to release to blow my nose when suddenly, he was on top of me like a wrestler going for the final pin. His mouth is on mine, trying to suck my lungs out. I flop about under him like a dying fish until I manage to slide out from under his roving limbs.

"What are you doing!?" I scream.

"I just want to help you feel better, " he says, disturbingly calm. He reaches for me once more. "Come here, baby."

"If I wanted this kind of comfort I'd be sitting at Bar Blu in a push up bra and tank top right now! Go, just go!" I seethe.

After he leaves I pull out the dart board. I wonder if it can fit two pictures...

Friday, January 19, 2007

Not all men in china are... dirtbags?

This is in response to James A's comment in "Myspace is for Creeps and Wierdos" post:

Dear James,

Thanks for your comment. Being our first male commenter and a laudatory one at that, you are now the darling of the China Dirt posse. Praising will get you love! Criticisms will be met with scathing retorts! Just kidding... or are we?

Anyways, after receiving some suggestions, we're opening the forum for China dating stories from both sexes, although we'll still be most partial about ones about assholes of the male variety.

Even in our bitterness, China Dirt admits that there are a few good men out there. Unfortunately, it always seems that 70% of the few are in rewarding relationships already. Well, I suppose with every loser there's an even better rant. Silver lining girls, silver lining.

Keep on dishing,
China Dirt

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Myspace is a place for creeps and wierdos, Series One

This isn't so much China related as it is just creepy guy related...

Being embarassingly vain we all want to put our best faces forward even when it's only on a internet networking site like myspace.com; but as soon as you put up a halfway decent picture of yourself, you're flooded with the slimy messages from slimy men. It's funny how similar most messages are to one another yet the sender probably thinks they're being incredibly smooth or original. Heads up Myspace messagers: If you send any messages like the ones below, you are neither smooth nor original. You are a douchebag and there's no way in hell I'd ever respond to you as you probably have a nice little repetoir of STDs to accompany your repetoir of come ons. That being said, we will reply here on blogspot so the whole internet world can see what we really want to say.

SUBJECT LINE: beautiful
MESSAGE: You are so beautiful. I am coming to China in a month and would love to meet you. I find it ironic that as I leave for China I see the most beautiful girl in the world. -T

OUR REPLY: Oh how ironic it is T that you happen upon my Myspace page just as you're about to fly over here. I'm so overwhelmed by both of our lucks, I KNOW it must be yuanfen. Oh wait, out of your 300 friends about 299 are scantily clad Asian girls. As much as we would adore being part of the Asian fetish orgy you seem to be having on Myspace we're going to have to politely abstain from your invitation.

SUBJECT LINE: hi beautiful
MESSAGE: hi beautiful, are you still in Beijing or back in the US? I am looking for nice people in Beijing cause I am new there (just started a new job): I need a social life and some action.

OUR REPLY: Gee thanks! You're here for some action? By "nice people" would you possibly mean "easy girls"?

More to come later. Send in your Myspace messages! The spite-fest can only get better...

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Reader Entry

Here's a submission by a Ms. Jess White to aid our men profiling. Thanks Jess!

A Cynic’s View of Sexpat Men: The Sleaze Ratings (Low to High)

Students - 18 upwards. Innocent, conscientious and game, but gone before you even know their name.
Sleaze factor - Low (sleazy is not a word to describe these ambitious young things)The

Divorcees that Do Look Back in Anger - 40s upwards. Divorced their 'bitch' of a wife back home. Bitter but bold, they arrive in China to start a afresh, disguising the move as 'exploring business opportunities.' True to a degree when they find themselves entering (quite literally) into a mutually beneficial trading contract. They realise they can get a Chinese wife way out of their league who is half their age + 5 'cause that's the result of the 'acceptable calculation' apparently? She gets money and more than one child and he gets a cum receptacle who never answers back - normally cause they cant communicate in the universal language of English, or love for that matter.
Sleaze factor - Low (they've accepted that life for them now is better than ever)

Yellow Tinted Glasses - late 20s upwards. Normally average but reasonably nice guys. Came out here cause they needed a life change but announce they're not into Chinese women. In an innocent attempt to learn some Chinese they find themselves hanging around with a language exchange, who usually comes in the form of an attractive Chinese student who is young, single and white-cock hungry. It doesn't take long then for this category to get 'into' Chinese women. When questioned on they're change in attitude, they claim to be suffering from 'yellow fever.'
Sleaze factor - Medium (they're blinkered to yellow on the colour chart, but there's always a twinkle in the back of their eye for a Western girl)

The Serious Sex Tourist - 50s upwards, and upwards. Complete social misfits back home. If they’re really serious they'll try to avoid metropolises like Beijing and Shanghai for there are too many harsh reminders of reality. Normally head to less obvious places where the local women are (more) wowed by their white, wrinkly skin and deep pockets. Take G, a sex tourist. Claimed to be 30, but on observing his dyed brown hair and comb-over a more realistic estimate puts him at nearer 60. He claims you’re no fun if you don’t allow him to grope your breasts. He has been observed trying to hit on a young Chinese girl who was passed out at the time from too much Baijiu. When told to get the hell off her and he responded with 'What? There are rules here now?' Apparently not, for people like him in Chongqing. He left that night to go home with his 19 year-old girlfriend.
Sleaze factor - High (they'll try their luck with anything that moves)

What Goes on Tour Stays on Tour - Mid-20s upwards and seemingly nice. Normally out here on a secondment or chose to come out here because there's something they're trying to get away from back home. Home being the place where they're holding a girlfriend hostage (with the help of his mates), with the promise that they'll be back in a couple of years for her hand in marriage. It's selective as to whether you get told about her or not. They behave as though they are single, but too pussy to dump that special someone for fear of returning home to a life of bachelorhood. Some of these deludedmiscreants think that praying after sex will counter their infidelity. They normally also claim they'll never go near Chinese girls, but prostitutes don't count apparently.
Sleaze factor - high risk (Choosing to utilize subtle strategies in the form of complex mind games, in keeping with the game of self-denial they're playing with themselves, in order to bed their targets)

Parisians - 20s upwards. 'Papa' has encouraged them to move to China to further the family business. What you see is what you get with this category - womanisers whose only experience of English women is misspent holidays in Majorca. Will try to charm your pants off with their wining and dining and shocked when you fail to put out. "Bot I do not understand?" exclaimed E after a date with an English girl "I sort all English girls are slugs. Bof!"...maybe he meant slags.
Sleaze factor - High (really amusing to laugh at though, but also risky because if you hang around them for too long you become intoxicated by their garlic breath)

Tuesday, January 9, 2007

The Finding Himself Man

“What do you do?” That’s a question thrown about at all networking events, dinner parties, post dinner party parties, and other hook-up activities thinly veiled as something more socially acceptable. It’s asked all around the globe. In most NORMAL parts of the world, when posed to a man, they’d reply promptly. But in Beijing, when you ask an expat man this, you’re more than likely to get a) a blank stare as his brain slowly putt putts away trying to figure out what response would make him sound like he actually does SOMETHING respectable b) a frantic caught-in-the-headlight look as if you just asked him to explain the meaning of life c) a slick, well-rehearsed monologue about how China is the future and he wants a part of it, which sounds acceptable until you realize after listening to him ramble on for 30 minutes that he still has not actually told you what he does d) a list of jobs which include the words freelance, writer, artist, actor, filmmaker, DJ or English teacher (no offense to the decent guys of these professions but sadly your lesser brethren have given you a bad rep) or finally e) muttering and stammering with the phrase “finding myself” thrown in repeatedly. Girls, if you stumble upon one of these fellas, and you inevitably will if you spend even 30 seconds in Nanjie, Kai, Shooters, Bar Blu, Browns, oh hell, ANY BAR in this city, run! You have just met the “Finding Himself Man” (FHM).

The FHM can initially seem deep and philosophical. He will undoubtedly spend hours expounding on the alienation he felt in the materialistic and superficial surroundings back in his home country-the alienation that drove him to search for something more in China. Sounds beautiful doesn’t it? A modern day TK of your very own. Who cares that he doesn’t have a real job? Or dresses like a slob? Or never gets up before noon? He’s above silly social constraints like ambition, a clean wardrobe, and daylight hours, right? “Oh, he’s so deep,” you think and even begin to question your own sensibilities. Maybe I should quit my job and wander about aimlessly? Maybe I too should stop showering. Maybe there is something to living like a vampire? The months, maybe even years, will drag by, as nothing seems to change. The finding himself process can’t be rushed, right?

But one day, the light will go on. You will start asking, “Just exactly what do you expect to find night after night at Nanjie?” “Are the answers to your questions written on Qingdao bottle caps?” “Do the lyrics of Chinese punk rock songs at D-22 say something to you? I find that hard to believe since you don’t’ even speak the language after 2 years here!”

To the FHMs out there I say:

FIND some maturity by getting a real job. And no, filing one story a week to an unnamed newspaper back home, occasional modeling as the token white boy in some baijiu billboard, and “tutoring” Chinese college girls does not count!

FIND some decency by appreciating your girlfriend-the one who cooked for you after 10 hour workdays, ironed and laid out clothes for you when you had interviews, who puts up with your equally immature friends and pretends not to be lonely when you leave her four times a week to go find yourself on Sanlitun.
FIND some courage to tell your girlfriend the TRUTH about the other woman you’ve been seeing so that your girlfriend doesn’t have to hear about it from other sources and suffer a near anxiety attack in the middle of a dinner party being thrown by her boss.
If you were a real man, you’d FIND a doorway out of this little box of selfishness and oblivion in which you live. You’d FIND a way to recognize that living like a nomad does not make you deep, only pathetic. You’d FIND out that responsibility and commitments aren’t evil constraints but realities of life. You’d FIND that you can’t live like a teenager forever!

Ringing in the New Year

Hooray! It's our first submission thanks to an email from "Betsy".

Guy: Expat
Age: 21
Flaw: Bad Kisser

"I spent the early hours of 2007 getting the WORST kisses I have ever got in my LIFE from a boy born in 1985. He somehow kissed me so hard he popped out my lip ring. then, when I made the mistake of kissing him again, he ran his hand through my hair, made a fist, and then PULLED MY HAIR. Obviously, I didn't take that silently, and told him to stop it. Later in the night when I was leaving the party he asked me for my number because "Betsy, given the opportunity I'd really like to fuck you." Ugh, ugh, ugh. UGH!!!!"

LBH: Loser Back Home

Sometimes I feel like one of the main reasons expat guys come to China is because life back in their home countries had gone drastically wrong. What? you're over 30 and have never held a real job? Oh? You failed out of university in your second year and don't have any direction in life? Hm? You're addicted to cocaine and are exiled from your home country? Ah? You have mysterious twitches and smell a bit funny?

All these Oh-so-appealing guys are known as LBH's or "Losers Back Home." These LBHs however find sanctuary in the welcoming (and not-so-picky) arms of the Chinese girls here. A big "I'm Sorry" to all the sensible and awesome Chinese girls out there but you know that it's the stupid ones that ruin it for everyone. It gets so bad in China that after awhile, "Does not cheat on me" becomes an actual quality that boosts up a guy's rankings rather than an unspoken given when entering a relationship. "Will not fuck me over", "Does not have a bloated ego and a head up his ass" become moved up above the traditional "Good sense of humor" and "Smart and interesting." Rarely do you hear of a girl finding an expat guy who has achieved all these qualities at once here. There's always one. critical. flaw. But after enough time, the China goggles get foggier and foggier and standards drop lower and lower.

QUICK SEGUE
I once dated a guy who would announce every single time we fought that I should thank him for being such a good boyfriend because he could "go out and find a girl tonight" but thank GOD, he was so moral and so wonderful that he wouldn't. To that I wanted to scream "THANKS YOU GIGANTIC DOUCHE. Do you realize that back in our home countries I'd totally be out of your league?" But instead, I kept quiet because he was loyal and in China, that's a quality that is rarer than finding a blue diamond. It wasnt until 5 months of that shit before I realized that I would rather be back in the fray of shit guys than put up with this guy's shit one, minute longer.

So welcome to China ladies where a obtaing that healthy monogamy is apparently like getting a cool, decoder ring nowadays as your Cracker Jack prize. That is to say pretty much impossible. I mean, I can take tradeoffs: an uglier guy for a better personality, an amazingly hot guy who's brilliant but cheats because he has a low ego but FUCK! In China you have the 'tards that are both ugly AND stupid AND have the worst personalities AND yet still walks around like a pompous jackass, frontin like he's God's gift to women. I know Eve may have eaten the forbidden fruit and damned humankind for all eternity, but it's time for the punishment needs to end. It's getting to be cruel and unsual.

BACK ONTO LBH'S
So these Loser Back Homes seem to come to China in droves. Upon arrival they will inevitably get an unfairly pretty Chinese girlfriend. They will then choose two paths: attach themselves to the girlfriend with the despearation of a dying leech or treat girl like shit and then cheat on her with multiple other girls that are also out of his league lookwise but are obviously on the same mental wavelength since they are too stupid to realize how much the LBH sucks.

I heard from a friend in Korea that, in Korea, expat guys usually go for the first option with then Korean girl then cleaning up and dressing him in something decent so that he then at least looks like a well dressed LBH. Hey, if you're going to be a loser, you may as wear some designer brands to make your girlfriend happy. In China, guys seem to gravitate towards the later option. It's as if they step off the plane and their brain becomes addled with the smell of cheap perfume and cheap sex in the air.

I came to China with standards I swear. What those standards were seem awfully hazy and nebulous now. I won't go as far as date LBH's but I will find myself scraping not too far from the bottom of the barrel. After all, it holds all too true that, in China, high standards won't keep you warm in a cold bed. And so I find myself dating guys whose behavior would make girls back home cringe and vomit violently with only wince and a resigned shrug. "Oh well, they are in China."

Sunday, January 7, 2007

POINTS OF FUCK!

China's a rough place to live if you're a girl. Sketchy, gross, clueless or just plain idiotic guys seem to cover the entire country like a bad case of the pox. A pox on the dating scene of the East!

This blog is to tell the good, bad, ugly, funny, horrifying aspects of dating in a rapidly developing country that says its adheres to traditional views of chasity but, in reality, oozes a hook-up culture. It's a forum for the women of China to rant. It's a space where we encourage you to be your bitchiest. It's a platform for you to say all the nasty things you wanted to say to that fucking asshat you were dating but couldn't because you had to seem like you were taking the break up with grace and poise (who wants to be known as the "insane ex-girlfriend?").

So after you're done bashing him to all your friends, email us and dish away. Just think of how much you can potentially save on therapy... and how much you'll be helping others who are going through the same China relationship crap.