Fuck!

READER SUBMISSION: Browsing for bimbos

2009-04-07T02:29:00.000-07:00

A submission from our Shanghai sister D. Thanks for the submit!

When I lived in Beijing, I found the place to be crawling with Since I moved to Shanghai, I haven't been really been bothered by any guys who have tried to pick me purely on the merit of him being foreign. Most of them will attempt intelligent conversation or at the very least pretend that they have a lot of money. After not having contact with the I'm Special Because I'm Foreign expat guy for so long, I nearly forgot that they existed until a couple weeks ago when one tried to pick not just me up but my friend all in one, rather unimpressive swoop.

We were intently rifling through a book cart on a street corner. For those of you not versed in book carts, a very Shanghai thing, they are literally vendors towing wooden carts full of bootlegged books. The selection is not that great and consists of a pretty schizophrenic selection of books from either A list (Malcolm Gladwell) or D list (Sophie Kinsella) authors but still each book costs only USD3 so they tend to be well worth a browse.

I had just picked up Huxley's Brave New World when I heard a voice next to me.

"I read that."

I turn and saw a short, squat, 30 something with beady eyes and a balding head.

"Yeah, is it good?" I asked silently wondering why good looking males never seem to browse bootleg book carts.

"It's okay." he pauses and then continues carefully articulating his words as if speaking to a child "Did you know? That author is a verrrry famous author,"

My friend let out a loud snort of repressed laughter and I felt my inner nerd prickling with indignance. "I know he's famous." I glared.

"Thanks for telling us though. That was so... helpful." my friend chimed in, her voice laced with barely contained mean girl glee.

I'll have to give it to baldy. While most guys would have taken the hint from the way I was stabbing him with my pupiles and left he continued, "Oh. Yeah. You girls look pretty smart."

Silence.

"You know how I know you girls are smart?" he continued unfazed.

"How?"

"Your English is so good."

This was so unexpected that it caused us to stop and turn to look at him incredulously.

Finally my friend spoke, "Gee, thanks."

Sensing he may have misspoke, the guy faltered. "Oh, you girls aren't from Shanghai are you?"

"No."

"Are you students?" he pressed on hopefully.

I guess for some people, if you can't be a local, the next best thing is if you're a student. Financial desperation is almost a good a target as passport desperation for a smarmy guy with not many - or any - redeeming qualities?

"No," I replied evenly, my eyes unconsciously narrowing (Y later told me that I looked like I was about to club him over the head with my copy of Brave New World), "are you a student?"

"No, I work for a magazine," bald man said uncomfortably, shrinking away from my gaze.

"Oh really? Do tell us. Which one?" I purred venomously.

"You wouldn't have heard of it. It's a magazine for..." he pauses and on his face, I saw a look that seemed oddly reminiscent and then I remembered - it was that all too familiar look of wheels turning in a dim head that I had seen guys from Beijing get. Memory lane! "...It's a magazine for doctors!" he finished looking at us obviously hoping that we wouldn't question him further.

Much to his relief, my friend and I decided to let it drop. We paid for our books and headed on our way. As I carried that armful of books down the road I thought how funny it was that I had already been treated to a story that night without having to read a thing.

READER SUBMISSION

2009-03-17T20:02:00.000-07:00

We all hear stories about some women's biological clocks ticking down but what happens when a guy informs you that it SHOULD be ticking? Thanks E for the submit.

After a long week at work, Friday night arrives. It’s time for me to dress up a bit and go to my favorite bar - a well-known lounge hangout in the CBD - before joining friends for a birthday party.

I know a lot of people who are already at the bar so I sit down next to them. Then I’m introduced to a guy who I’d never met but was with their group.

He was a European guy, early 40s, who tells me straightforwardly after gallantly giving me his seat, "I like George Bush".

I should have backed off right away, but a bit of paradox ... and actually, why would I care?

Seeing that I’m not biting on his pro-Bush agenda and have instead opened up my Economist, he keeps on after studying my face for a bit before speaking.

"You’re very beautiful."
"Well, thank you."
"All the men at the bar are watching you."

I was the only blond and the male to female ratio was 5:1 with the male contingent belonging squarely to the of 50y old, beer belly in a power suit, 2 cocktails in and balding sect. I don t think I’m butt ugly but I know these factors sure help. But hey, thanks for the compliment anyway, tipsy Bush fan.

Seeing how his drunken speech (and armpit BO) haven’t sent me swooning just yet he persists trying to engage me in another conversation. Below in our abysmal dialogue that spanned 20 excruciating minutes. I’ve put the my non-expressed thoughts (was trying to stay somewhat civil) in brackets.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"
"Actually no (it’s more complicated than that, as it always is)"
"If I didn’t have a girlfriend already, I’d ask you to become my girlfriend. Do you want to have babies?"
"No!"
"But you re beautiful and you seem kind, you should have babies."
"I m sorry but my biological clock is AWOL, so be it. I’ve a dog."
"I’ve a baby. It’s wonderful. You should have one. When you will meet the right one, you will know immediately (Great, that’s an interesting piece of information I already got from Barbara Cartland, thanks). In Beijing, men only want to fuck (and women never?), you’ll never meet somebody in this bar (Yeah, the more I’m talking to you, the more I’m realizing it). It’s difficult here for women." (No! really? I should tell my girlfriends, that’s a scoop)
"Yes, and?" I turn back to my magazine. It’s my Friday night and I’m getting a lecture only not from my therapist or my mum, but from a drunk, profusely sweating Polish guy. What a joy!
"You re very beautiful, I am talking to you like a friend. How old are you?"
I give him my age, more than Bridget Jones, less than Jesus. He looks at me solemnly and slurs,
“You only have 3 years left to have babies. After 35 ..." he pauses here in a horrified silence with a beer glazed look on his stupid face.

By now I’m fully annoyed and I go off on him.

"Hey, I don’t think I need you describing to me about the guys here in Beijing. I’m actually living it so thanks. As for the rest, it’s none of your business. I’ve worked all week (getting up at 5.30am and studying outside of my working hours, I m very, very tired), and it’s Friday night, my only night out. I want to enjoy my drink without you nagging me in my ear and by the way, it’s Valentine s Day tomorrow, so just don t rub it in anymore. Believe me, I know.

And hey, I don’t know you so thanks for your concern but let’s just limit ourselves to subjects that aren’t so personal. I think it’ll work out better for the both of us. "

He looks at me like I had deeply, deeply hurt his feelings (you got to love the navel-centricity of some males)

"But I m your friend, and you’re really beautiful, but you only have 3 years left."

He’s obviously not getting it so I pointedly turn back to my magazine.

He repeatedly comes back with "I’m your friend", till I raise an eyebrow to which he says,

"Don’t frown, it makes you wrinkle on the forehead."

I’m too polite to make a scene and couldn’t be bothered to try reason him again (an obviously losing battle). I was running late for my party so this seemed like a good time to leave. I guess if you can’t beat them, get the hell outta there.

I excused myself to the other people and left.

I later found out that the guy was actually there, boozing away, because he had had an argument with his girlfriend/mother of his baby. I also heard that this caring gentleman left the bar a bit later, loudly calling all my friends still there, “a bunch of gays” after they realized what he had said to me and gave him the cold shoulder. How charming.

Lost in translation

2009-02-16T18:31:00.000-08:00

Basic premise - girl wants to learn english, girl goes to English First, girl meets teacher there, teacher suggests that mutual groping (highlighted in red) is the way to english fluency.

Thanks S for this email tip and let this be a lesson for all the guys out there: language exchange does not always mean an easy romp in the sack.

--------- Forwarded message ----------
From: S
Date: Sat, Jan 17, 2009 at 18:31
Subject: Re:
To: N******* C*****
I not know what you mean for your prices. And I also not know what mean taht i am pretty i thinkj my pretty have nothing to do with my english lesson. I really just want english lesson. I do not know about what else you mean.

On Sat, Jan 17, 2009 at 17:14,
N******* C***** wrote:
I think we should wait to discuss prices until after we've met. i think that with a girl as pretty and open as you, we could probably work something out. I don't really want to discuss over email what I had in mind, so let's just meet in person and see if there's a connection. If there is then I'm sure the english will just come naturally for you. I think that after we spend time exploring and touching each other, things will feel much easier. I assume that's why you emailed me for "private classes" instead of going to EF, right?

Date: Sat, 17 Jan 2009 12:38:15 +0800
From: s
To: N******* C*****
Subject: Re:
Yes i think that if can help me with the english i can help your chinese. My working is very busy so i should not make the plan if i need to work. I have rest time on saturday and sunday if you want to help me stufy on those days. Can you please tell me the prices of your teaching?

On Sat, Jan 17, 2009 at 04:38
N******* C***** wrote:
No problem S. EF's prices are a bit high, I agree with you. But I didn't just approach you last week because I thought you needed english lessons. I thought maybe we could be teach each other a little something if we just spent a little time together My cell number is 1501******* if you want to call or text and then we can find some time to hang out.

Date: Sat, 17 Jan 2009 04:31:34 +0800
From: s
To: N******* C*****
Subject:
Hello n*** it was very nice to meet you at the EF place this last week. I very want to have the class there but i think the price is maybe too high. I hope we be friend so we can have the english lesson. Thanks you for your helping me.

A pat from down under

2009-01-22T02:16:00.000-08:00

While the icy, winter air may put a chill on some people’s amorous advances. It’s done nothing to slow down this Cop-a-feeler from Australia. Thanks P for the share.

"As I am a young, mid-20s Asian-American professional living and working in Beijing, I’m oftentimes mistaken as a young, local Chinese woman. This means frequently being asked "where have you learned such good English?" even AFTER introductions (where I repeatedly say that I was born and raised in the US) have been made and getting completely ignored at networking events where Western men introduce themselves to one another yet do not bother to introduce themselves to me (and, to add insult to injury, pass me over when giving out their name cards).

S, a tall, dark-haired Australian wine distributor, introduced himself to me, shakes my hand, and slings the other arm around me, hand planting nice and hard on my right but tcheek. The shock and indigence on my face must have given away my reaction, as he says "Lighten up, honey, this is the way us Ozzies are!" I shake my head at him and say "Yeah, but I’m not Australian. I’m American", extract my hand back from his viselike grip, and start to walk (more like run) away.

But the fun didn't end there.

As I try to calm my nerves waiting for a cranberry juice (no alcohol - New Year's resolution to lose weight) at the bar, he comes up behind me AGAIN, pats me firmly on the behind (as I am facing the bar, waiting for the bartender to pour my drink). This time I utter a loud yelp of surprise, and he mimics my outcry, then disappears back into the crowd. Good thing too as my hand is ready to land across his pretty little face.

I managed to tell a good number of people at that networking event of these delightful incidences, and received the small consolation that they would most likely report this man to the folks involved at this event.

Unfortunately this is not the first (nor probably the last) time this sort of thing has happened."

Ratings plummet

2009-01-12T21:59:00.000-08:00

So we’ve all heard of the 10 point rating scale for sizing up a member of the opposite sex. Apparently for one man of the world in China, 10 points was 8 points to many. Thanks to C for the tip.

“Call it laziness, drunk goggles, or whatever you like, but I have a friend who decided that the only way to rate girls was on a binary scale – 1 or 0. Do her or don’t do her.

Of course he wanted my opinion on this scale and whether I'd rate guys the same way. After being in China for a bit, I realized that I had thrown my 10 point scale away because let's be honest, if we were to honestly rate the guys here on the same scale as we do those in Australia, Holland, Canada, or Sweden it would just be sad. Instead I've started rating guys on this four point scale:
1) Not a chance in hell
2) Maybe a make out if I’m blind drunk
3) Cute enough to make out when sober
4) Let's skip dinner and just go to my place”

Oh Jersey. We love you so.

2009-01-08T19:53:00.000-08:00

HAPPY NEW YEARS EVERYONE! Onto a reader submission:

"I have alas left Beijing but the memories of complete otherworldly base behavior still boggles the mind even if it's not a physical presence in my day to day life. Before I get into the biggest douchebag I met in my three years in Beijing (if not in my life), I do have to say that I think the dating scene is gradually getting better. The massive influx in foreigners over the past few years has meant a surge of men who have no attraction to Chinese girls and a huge downfall in the number of disgusting pricks with a girl they clearly have no business with. The problem with white guys in China is that most of them don't realize that, despite how awesome they all of a sudden feel they are, most Chinese girls actually aren't attracted to them. Put simply - more white guys and a constant number of girls who are interested in them means less leeway to treat girls like shit. Though of course, that's just one man's opinion.

So yeah, I know I don't have to live this shit firsthand, but as a guy I get to hear a lot of stories. It's sort of amazing because a guy you barely know will open up to you based on the simple premise of "hey, you're a guy so you must also secretly not think of women as equal human beings and enjoy a good 'objectifying' story." So, onto the biggest douchebag I met in Bejing.
Let's call him New Jersey John.

He was living with a friend of mine and holy shit this kid was a complete liability. The first night I met him we were out at Souk where he openly bragged about cocaine and delighted in talking to the fuwuyuan like she was a peasant. We then headed over to the nearby Black Rose where my friend assured me that we're in for an epic game of darts since NJ John dropped out of uni for a year to focus exclusively on the craft of darts. This cat had been working on his bachelor's for something like 6 years already and according to him "if i really bust my ass I can probably finish in 3 years." Well that year off focusing on darts was well spent since me and my friend, who never play, beat him pretty easily. NJ John proceeded to get incredibly drunk then headed off with his friends to Mix while me and my friend hung back to have another game. About 15 minutes later the kid comes knuckle-dragging back in with a look of utter disdain. "Fuck those kids," he callously utters in reference to his 'friends' who left for the club without him.

Apparently they weren't happy with him stealing a jacket from the bar and made him return it. We walked out to the street where he proceeded to explain to us that this jacket clearly belonged to a drug dealer and had hidden gold coins secretly sewn into the sleeve. As such it was fair to steal it. While he's bitching about the injustice of being forced to return it, he stops, mid-sentence, feeling the presence of two western girls walking by and shouts "hey ladies, show me your pussy," before seemlessly returning to the story of the gold deblooms in the sleeve.

Not that bad considering the people you meet in China, but the stories from this kid continued to compound almost daily. My friend had his girlfriend over one night and all her friends. He stumbles in, wasted, and immediately gets on the phone to the nearby brothel and asks for their youngest girl. When he learns the youngest they have is 16, he demands a 14 year old. Having placed his order he tells my friend he's going to run off and get some McDonald's and will be back in a little bit.
NJ John was unemployed and aspired to write a travel guide of all the prostitute hangouts in Beijing. Luckily he teamed up with some shady dude who shared his love of employing prostitutes and filming their acts. It was comforting to hear his theory on how one should "bust in a prostitute's face". "See what you do is, right before you cum, you take your arm and pin down the girl and then cum in her face." Luckily he heard one day that Wuhan has the best and most affordable prostitutes in China and just packed up and left, leaving us all to breathe a massive sigh of relief. I could honestly go on for another hour on this fucking asshole."

xoxo's to A for the submit.

Well, Christmas is the time for families...

2008-12-27T07:49:00.000-08:00

Spotted: Old Serbian Man, squeezing my friend's shoulder: "You have strong bones. Good for bearing children!"

Thanks S for the submission! xoxo.

Merry Christmas everyone!

2008-12-26T00:11:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone. Apologies for the slow posting. It's Christmas and we've spent the last few days too drunk off of turkey and wine to do much other than drink and eat more while massaging our swollen stomaches. Lovely image we know. Luckily for everyone, we've finally emerged from the haze of gluttony that defines this holiday season and are able to write and talk somewhat more coherently. Enjoy the following:

It was a Saturday night at Aqua. I'm not a big fan but I had out of town guests and say what you of the snobby clientele and shady service (they've "accidentally" overcharged us everytime I've been) but it does have the best view of the Central skyline. That particular night, the lights were especially bright because the skyscrapers were decked out for the holiday season. I was hoping that the flashing bulbs would be enough of a distraction to allow me a quick getaway. No such luck.

"Wait..I'm one of the richest men in Hong Kong," exclaimed Mr. Subtle, puffing out his chest as he grabbed hold of my wrist. Annoyed but curious to see how he'd work his way out of his bluff, I sat back down. "Oh, really? I thought you said you worked in a textile company?" I asked, hiding my amused and incredulous look behind a slow sip of my lemon-grass martini.

"Well, you know, I was in finance and did really well with that, I mean, after all I am one of the richest men in Hong Kong now. But I decided to try something new. I called up a textile company and said I want to work for you and when they saw how much experience I had they rushed me straight to the top and made me their head guy," he said, beaming.

Mr. Subtle pulled out a card. Honey Textiles it read in neon green print against black on one side. I flipped it over. The other side had his name and mobile on it....filled out in blue ink.

Apparently "one of the richest men in Hong Kong" couldn't even afford a card with his name printed on it. Instead his card was a fill-in-the-blank, with the word NAME printed on followed by a space and the word PHONE followed by a space, onto which he had dutifully written-in his name and number with a ball point pen.

Wow, lying is hot. But being a bad liar is even hotter.

"You're FAT! I'm charming!"

2008-12-22T18:48:00.000-08:00

Beijing is one of those places where there never seems to be an age limit to groups mixing. As a result, you get 20 somethings joking and chugging down Tsingdao with friends twice their age. Our friend J had somehow secured a friendship slot in Beijing's elder, well-to-do set. Her friend H was one of those wealthy divorcee's who spent their entire China existence getting as many Chinese girls as their Viagra supply could handle. Taking a page out of President Bush's "How to be Successful Handbook" you could always count on H pulling the "hand on small of back move". Despite his faults - smarminess, dull wit, constant and unecessary touching, he threw amazing catered cocktail parties with a delicious spread of food and copious amounts of alcohol.

He enjoyed having us at his parties because we lent him some street cred as being in tune with the youth crowd and perhaps, when it came down to it, our breasts were perky. We enjoyed his parties because, we could bring as many of our friends as we liked, squat in an immaculate apartment and eat and drink for free. As a result, his parties ended up being segregated groups of 20-somethings drinking furiously and old, white expat men trying to seal the deal with Chinese girls half their age. During one such party, the douchiness level amongst the old, white expat men seemed higher than usual.

My friends and I looked on as the mid life crisisers raced through the bottles of wine as if they secretly believed that their rate of alcohol consumption directly correlated with how youthful and virile they were. While the alcohol did little to reverse the forward march of time (except maybe in thier own minds) it did make the men sloppier and louder. So loud in fact that even from across the room we could hear the contents of their banter which seemed centering on critiquing their Chinese countparts' physique which seemed a bit hypocritical seeing as all the men had decidedly apple shaped bodies.

"OH YOU'RE A LOVELY ONE," roared drunken old man one boisterously creeping a lecherous hand around his friend's companion. She tittered nervously and tried to pull away. "YOU'RE A GOOD LOOKER TOO HONEY," yelled drunken old man two a decible higher, intent on not being shown up by his friend. "OH THIS ONE??" sputtered drunken man one. "SHE'S HOT NOW BUT SHE DIDN'T USED TO BE." He then turned to his Chinese lady friend and said something that if any man uttered in the West would have landed him a punch to the face, "GO ON HONEY, TELL M HERE ABOUT HOW YOU USED TO BE FAT." The Chinese girl in question's face reddened. Her friend tried to laugh. The men, oblivious to their discomfort did another vodka shot.

Spotted: Eat and Runner

2008-12-21T07:56:00.000-08:00

The Christmas season is upon us. Due to global financial crisis hitting all corners of the globe now, people maybe finding it harder to give in this season of giving. Take this story as an example:

I am writing this on behalf of a friend of mine who recently had the unpleasant experience of meeting a guy named [bleep] from America. They met via an online ad my friend had placed ( I have advised her stop placing ads as she becomes a target when she does) I realize that I only have half the story, but as an American I feel bad that this girl was cheated and lied to by another American.

This guy met this girl and they emailed back and forth for a few weeks. Then he asked her to dinner,ordered a lot to eat and then proceeded to eat most of the food. He then excused himself to the restroom where he leaves the Chinese girl with the bill. He is from New Jersey I believe, and in his mid 20’s. He claims to be a wealthy consultant in the hotel industry. I have his pic, name, and contact information for anyone that might be interested.

An asshole coming from New Jersey. What are the odds?

Pow.

2008-12-17T05:18:00.000-08:00

Thanks to a reader tip we were able to find quite a nice story of an expat man getting his comuppance in the form of a punch to the face for his douchebaggery.

Here's the article in a paraphrased and edited form. To read the original please click here.

Last night I was sitting at a bar in Yangshuo and a Canadian bartender from a bar across the street comes in completely hammered, sees all of us sitting around and asks us why we were all there. He tells us that he knew a bar up the road packed full of beautiful girls and that we should all go there. He then leaves.

Ten minutes later he returns holding his bleeding bottom and told us that someone had just punched him in the face. When I asked who punched him his reponse was classic, "a girl who apparently doesn't want to have sex with me!"

Ouch.

Reader Submission: The Play Gay

2008-12-16T06:43:00.000-08:00

If TV has taught us nothing else it's that the best gal pal is a gay pal. Other than roofies, nothing will make the modern girl drop her defenses faster than a sassy, sashaying man. But what happens when a guy you meet is just pretending?

READER SUBMISSION
A friend of ours has been known to tell girls that he's gay while out at a bar. After he's gained their trust he baits girls by telling them that if they let him squeeze their breasts he can tell if they've been ahem... enhanced. When they look aghast the assures them with this line, "It's totally okay, I'm gay. I won't even be turned on. I'm actually grossed out by breasts." Wierd part is is that it actually has worked more than a few times.

And you thought this only happened in C-list movies. Caveat emptor ladies.

The One Man Mind Fuck

2008-12-16T06:38:00.000-08:00

It was our fourth date and things were going swimmingly. Dinner on the first date, hiking on the second, hutong biking on the third... Our fourth date involved a lot of vodka. As he nuzzled my neck in a drunken haze, he whispered "God, I love you. I really do." Having consumed significantly less than my love struck partner, I didn't respond with any tipsy confessions of my own. I was also sober enough to recognize his outburst as having far more to do with the potent, clear liquid in his martini glass than true feelings. I mean, c'mon, it was our fourth date! I figure, if he meant it, well, that's a little scary so soon, but I can deal with it. If he didn't, well, people have said stranger things under the influence and if that was all it was, then, well, frankly it would be a relief.

When I spoke to him the next day, he had driven himself into a frenzy over what he had said. "I don't love you! Really, I don't! Oh my god, how could I have said that? I'm not the type who says that! I don't love you! I didn't say it! Oh god!" For all my shhhhhhing and reassurances that I wasn't taking it too seriously nor was I expecting a diamond ring on our next date, he could not be calmed. "I can't deal with this. It's moving too fast!" he exclaimed emphatically. And then he just stopped calling. The man drove himself into a crazed tizzy while all I could do was sit on the sidelines, blinking in confusion.

A friend later commented spot on: "He mind-fucked himself."

Swapping spit and stories

2008-12-15T09:11:00.001-08:00

"...one poster encountered with a working girl named Hebe. “Her English was good, but her choice of turn-on talk was a little creepy! Example, ‘You are a grandfather! You can be my grandfather and I am your little girl! I am very sympathetic to needs of grandfather!’ Ick!”"

Thanks to this little article tip sent to us we were able to learn about the International Sex Guide Forum. We all know that some men can't get enough of the ladies. So much so that they are willing to pay for the comforting embraces of female companionship. The internet, which fittingly enough, orginally gained popularity through people looking for porn in more convenient places than Blockbuster and their dad's closets, has provided one more safe haven for these men.

The International Sex Guide Forum lets lonely and/or horny dudes find their special someones the world over. It also contains useful tips about the customs and pricing strategies of each city because nothing ruins a good boner like feeling like a cultural faux pax or feeling like you got ripped off. Another popular aspect of the site are men detailing their excursions with specific prostitutes and giving recommendations. A useful feature for some who may hesitate in buying the car without taking it out for a test drive.

hot.

2008-12-15T01:04:00.000-08:00

From moocher to part-time moocher

2008-12-12T18:50:00.000-08:00

"After four months, he finally moved off the couch and got an apartment of his own! Ok, so his friend and I shelled out for the first two month's rent and he still has no job yet, but that's progress! Right?" she exclaimed in glee.

We all congratulated her. But since when did a guy who moves from total moocher to just part-time moocher become a catch? Oh yes, since moving to Beijing.

The Voice of Entitlement

2008-12-11T19:23:00.000-08:00

We're sure many of you may have already heard about this post but we couldn't listen and not post about the Danwei dubbed "3 Million RMB foreign douchebag."

Apparently an expat male with delusions of being Donald Trump a la The Apprentice called into Sherpas and went off on the girl taking his order telling her she had a bad attitude and that he was going to teach her about manners. His 4 minute long lesson (he doesn't really get going until after the first minute) consisted of him telling her that she was a fucking bitch and that the Chinese were a race of rude people.

Wow, nothing's sexier than entitled, racist expat men. Can't wait to go out tonight and if we can meet any of these gems roaming the city. Yummy yummy.

We were going to post the audioclip here but the embedded link from Imeem didn't want to work with blogger and other than cut and paste, we're pretty much out of ideas. Click on the Danwei link if you want to hear the whole thing.

Charisma Man

2008-12-11T17:48:00.000-08:00

Charisma Man is a comic strip originally created back in '98 as a satirical take on the overconfidence of expat English teachers in Japan; however, I'm sure many of us in China can relate to these themes ten years later.

hello upper east siders. it's china dirt. xoxo!

2008-12-11T00:23:00.001-08:00

Mmm winter. The leaves have died, the winds are gusting and skies are bleak. Sorry for the long hiatus readers. This year, China Dirt makes its New Years resolution a month early – aside from obsessing over the latest Blair and Chuck love arc we also pledge to, oh yes, update more.

Like a good errant boyfriend who displays his contrition with a bouquet of flowers and sad, doleful eyes, we’re going to give you an apology present as well - clue as to who we might be (or at least what we look like). After numerous emails, countless comments and a few gchat pop ups hypothesizing who we might be (the aggregated conclusion came out to be white, heavy set and fugly) we’ll give you this hint – and only really because it’s relevant for how the following story will read – one of us is (hold your breath guys) a full blooded foreign born Chinese. Onto the first story of the new year: “You don’t know English as well as me.”

So our fellow FBC was out one night at a rather swank cocktail party. Despite dressing up and having somewhere to go she unfortunately found herself backed into the corner by a charmless Karl Lagerfeld doppelganger – Note: fat, creepy Karl, not svelte, hipster Karl.

“Wow, you’re English eez good.” slurred the unhandsome stranger, blasting his hot, sour, cranberry laced breath into her face – oh yes, he was standing that close.
“I’m from abroad,” she replied.
“You are foreign? No! You look Chinese! You are Chinese. Vat do you do?” he spat out incredulously.
“Genetics tends to do that” she said looking for an escape, “I’m a brand strategist.”
“Zat is not a real word. You must be confused. You are not foreign,” he said triumphantly.

The rest of this gem of a conversation doesn’t really warrant being recorded. Let’s just end on that the crowd was luckily big enough for our FBC contributor to melt mercifully into avoiding rotund Karl for the rest of the evening.

Sabbatical

2008-06-07T13:48:00.000-07:00

Hello All,

As you all may have noticed the China Dirt girls have taken quite a long hiatus. 6 months to be exact. Apologies for the fans for the radio silence but we've unfortunately gotten rather intense jobs that suck up our time, rendering our free time rather scarce. New jobs = Less free time + more travel = less going out in China = less chances to encounter male douchbaggery in China. So is China Dirt dead? Well, we still have a stock of unwritten tales of male misdeeds. It just takes us a bit to write them down so please be patient and check back every month or so for (hopefully) a new update.

As a side note, apparently, there's a real estate agency in China also named China Dirt. Just goes to show you - you're never as unique as you think you are.

Happy dating. Will update soon!
-CD girls

The Naked Man

2007-12-09T01:46:00.000-08:00

*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."

Reader Submission

2007-11-24T09:20:00.000-08:00

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.

Drunk, socially inept asshole

2007-09-03T09:20:00.000-07:00

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.

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

2007-08-17T01:54:00.000-07:00

(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.

Hate Mail

2007-06-28T01:51:00.000-07:00

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.