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.
Monday, September 3, 2007
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.
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
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!"
"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.
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.
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."
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."
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