Shanghai Vixen

The farthest distance in the world is the few inches between a potential lover's face and one's own. There are no parachutes for the jump down that cliff, and whatever awaits at the soon or eventual end, be it immediate or gradual rejection, heartbreak, an overbite or happily (enough) ever after, you've just gotta brace yourself for it, or better yet not even think about it, and leap.

Or, if you're me lately, not.

A great first date with a great guy. Biteable (the actual pun is kissable, but I won't make things harder on myself) is, along with being far too hot for a chubby, ordinary gal like me, is sweet, smart, interesting, funny, considerate and cool. And seems to like me. Considereing that this is the first date I've been on since the male model disaster a year ago: not bad.

But I'm leaving town in a week. Why does this always seem to happen when I meet someone nice? Perhaps because it takes that pressure for me to act on my crushes?

I texted him today suggesting we do that dinner tonight after class, and he responded affirmatively. We avoided each other during class, and afterwards he took me to a little congee shop. It was usual first date stuff: job issues, hobbies, travel experiences, ambitions, but fun. The downside is that he's someone who gets tongue tied when nervous, while I get all babbly. He seemed amused, but whenever I checked myself and stopped, there would be a pause where we stared at each other evaluatorily. Awkward. Stare. Awkward. Smile. Awkward. Blush. Awkward...and I would start slurping in more congee or else slurping out another silly anecdote.

Biteable is 33 or 34, a fellow Cancer, and like several of my friends a graduate of ShangDa's art academy. His ad design firm employs six, all family and friends of his, and all stockholders to ensure they don't jump ship. He says his work is what attracts clients, but that he's got everyone well trained enough that he only has to work a couple of hours a day. His ambition is to save enough, and evolve the company enough, that he can take a couple of years to live and travel abroad. We spend a lot of time comparing various Southeast Asian and European destinations. He's been a lot to the former, never to the latter, but probably knows more about Europe than I do.

He lives near where we ate, so I offered to drop him off on my way, despite his claims he should drop me off. Not sexist, just courteous. We stood on the curb for a while, discussing/jokingly arguing about this: standing close, shiny staring eye contact, so ripe for the leapage. Yet: I just couldn't.

A reader here named Yul recently commented about Biteable:

Wow...you found a good one. He also knows how to subtly flirt without being stupid. In fact, I would guess that either he's lived abroad before or he's dated a Western woman in Shanghai, or both. No worries about him not setting a date yet. He knows where to find you, and is letting it grow slowly. Trust me, i'm a guy.

I don't know this guy, but he's goood. I was explaining my recent article on women's issues in China, and talking about the gendered pressures in the market economy: men to make lots of money, women to find a man who makes lots of money. "Yeah, that's why I don't date Chinese women. They're so calculating." I was startled, since while it's common to meet Chinese men who are annoyed with Chinese women (and Chinese women who are annoyed with Chinese women), the only Chinese man I've heard enunciate it into a dating policy is Korean Ice, my artist friend now on his second foreign girl, my friend Good Bug who he's planning to marry.

Sitting dangerously close in the taxi, we were talking about Shanghai dialect, and I mentioned that I'd dated a guy from the Fengxian suburb. "Chinese?" Okay, there IS a clan of abandoned black one-time missionary orphans, now old with part Chinese kids and grandkids, in Fengxian, but it's not wide knowlege. "Yeah. Shanghainese."

"You like Chinese guys?"

Sigh. "Some of them. I'm used to them at least."

"I like European women." Why? "They are more likely to date based on emotion, rather than money. I also believe feelings should come first." Aw.

"European. But not American?" This is as blatant as I got. He clarified that both were good, and he meant ethnic European, adding that he'd dated a French girl last year but they proved incompatible personality wise. This is great. The worst part about dating Asian or Asian-American men is their tendancy to make a big deal about dating white girls, whether it's the grating "You're so funny looking but I love you still" (my usual situation) or "Ooh, exotic white meat!" (at which I flee). Nice to be in someone's prefered but not exotified demographic for a change.

We pulled up at his flat, sitting close and cozy, I expected him to kiss me. He didn't. With the Shanghai guys I've dated, I've always had to take the initial leap. (Unlike the tongue-happy Beijingers, perhaps it's linguistic.) I wanted to kiss him, but I'm terrified I've forgotten how. Perhaps just as well, as I'm leaving so soon. Sigh.