it's the end of the rrrrrrrrrrrroad

I did something sorta bad. Well, before I explain, answer me this: is it wrong to go out with someone for purely anthropological reasons? I asked this myself, and then started to worry about the guys who may or may not have gone out with me for similar reasons—then I said naw, no way—I’m far too comfortable in my blonde, Midwestern genericity  (yes, I just made that word up. Whatevs). I’m sure any guy going out with me for less than honorable reasons was in it for other reasons. Probably, my car. Who wouldn’t want a free ride in a beat-up ’99 Cavalier with a hood that’s attached with a string and only a 90% chance of starting?

Anyway, so I went out with this guy I  met a few weeks ago, only because he is Chinese and I thought it would make for an interesting story. And yes, as I was sitting in his car last night, I thought to myself: “Wow, you really are an asshole.” I admit, going out with someone only so I could tell people about it later made me feel guilty. But, like any good former Catholic school girl, I did it anyway.

So he picks me up and takes me to this restaurant by Dianchi Lake for dinner. Because my Chinese is limited to food-and-drink words (the important stuff, obviously), and his English is rusty, our conversation hovered around a pre-school level. Like, less than 5 syllables per sentence. No problem, since I spent my days with Chinese 5 year olds (one of whom today looked at me and started singing “Ra ra oh Ga-Ga! I wanna a bad romance”….did he actually think, perhaps, that I am Lady Gaga? Shit, I thought, I really  need to start brushing my hair before work!). So our conversation went something like this:

“Do you have a pet?” (My Suitor)
“Yes, I have a pet. I have a cat. His name is Victor. He is very mean.” (me)

“Do you know they eat cats sometimes in  Guangzhou (southern Chinese city)?” [Insert 10 minute conversation about “special” animals some people eat: mice, snake, cat, dog (only certain breeds, lest you worry), monkey, etc]

“Wow. That is gross! …But maybe it is very tasty depending on how you cook it?”(me, first being judgmental than attempting to appear culturally enlightened)

The convo continues:

“Do you have a sister or brother?” (Suitor)
“Yes, I have a sister. She is in law school. She lives very far away from me…. Do you have any siblings?”

Then I cringe.

WHY DO I ALWAYS ASK THIS?! Per the one-child policy, most people my age (or a decade older as my delightful suitor turned out to be), very few people have siblings unless their parents  1) paid a fine, which sounds cheap by American standards but would probably bankrupt most Chinese 2) are farmers or 3) belong to a minority group (2 and 3 are both permitted to have additional children). Still, it understandably saddens many people and they (like My Suitor), launch into a sad story about how lonely they are, how bad they feel for their parents who are now old and alone and need taken care of, and how they long for a big happy family, Steve-Martin-is-my-dad-in-Cheaper-By-The-Dozen-Style   style (ok I just made that last part up…maybe only my own personal fantasy? whoops).

So after we hashed through this scenario, we finally made it to the restaurant. My Suitor (it sounds so gallant when in caps, right?) was generous enough to order vegetarian to me—for which I was exceedingly grateful , considering that the dishes du jour included larvae and half-hatched eggs. We shared some really excellent mushroom dishes- Yunnan is famous for them, and a lot of silence. This will come to a shock to anyone who knows me, because normally I will babble on about just about anything to fill a void in conversation, but I’ve gotten really comfortable with silence here. I feel no need to talk. I just eat or daydream in peace. It’s quite nice, actually, not hearing myself chatter all the time.  Makes me wonder—how many people feel the same way?!  Don’t answer that.

After dinner, My Suitor and I took a pleasant evening stroll around Dianchi Lake, a body of water nestled up against an impressive mountain range (which, as I learned, is named “Sleeping Beauty.” You know you haven’t lived until you’ve watched a pollution-laced sunset with a dude who’s pointing out the “breasts” on a mountain in broken English).  Honestly, Dianchi Lake is far the most disgusting, vile water I’ve ever seen. It’s tragic, really: it would be so beautiful but it’s literally coated with a layer of green slime. I kept waiting for the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles—or frogs or snakes  or fish- to crawl out of the oily liquid and kill us all.  I don’t know why everyone was so impressed by this Jesus character—if you’ve ever visited Dianchi you know that just about anyone could walk on the water. If you want instant cancer, that is.

 Anyway, we continued our stroll, and My Suitor tried to convince me to move to China permanently (because near-engagement is normal  after 2/3 of a date). To sweeten the deal, he serenaded me. First with a little Chinese love song about “Sweaty Mice.” I’m think he actually meant “sweet mice,” but I’m not really sure how that’s better.

But then came the clincher. My Suitor told me that he also likes English music.

“Like what?” I asked,   painfully unaware of the performance about to ensue.

“You know. Boys II Men.” He replied.

….and then proceeded to launch into a full-blown version of “So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday.” We’re talking top-of-the lungs falsetto. I was stunned

.

“You know, you’re right. It really is hard to say goodbye to yesterday,” I told him, clapping enthusiastically.

But, sadly, not hard to say good-bye to him. I mean, if I’m gonna go out with a Chinese guy I might as well hold out for one who can sing me N’Sync…right?