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...