"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.

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."

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!

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?"

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

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.

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.