J: “I’m never dating a banker.”

Me: “I mean, they seem like scumbags but I’m sure there are some perks to dating them.”

J: “They’re gross.  They have massive orgies.”

Me: (pause to process aforementioned sentence)

“What? They have orgies?  Is this a banking thing I’m oblivious to?”

J: “Remember that Chinese douche, Bill, I was kind of seeing?  He worked in a big famous bank, but he was only junior associate.  He told me once ‘whenever we put through a big transaction, all the big-wigs celebrate with orgies.  I’m so jealous.’

Me: “Wow.  He was jealous he couldn’t participate in that?  And they do it frequently?  Those Chinese bankers, man, that’s living it up.”

J: “So foul.”

(pause)

Me: “Think you could ever do an orgy?”

J: “Nah.”

Me: “Same.”

I had this conversation with J while I was cooking up some scrambled eggs with toast.  It made me think about all the weirdos J and I have dated in our Asian adventures.

J and I both like Asian guys, but despite the fact the chances of us ever liking the same man are slim to none.  You think that the AMWF world is dog-eat-dog, but it’s actually not the case.  While you think J and I might battle over a man at the bar, the odds are me cringing at the man she’s pursuing in the club, while she shakes her head at the young lad I ask out on a date.

J tends to like the ‘gao fu shuai’ (tall, rich, handsome) types.  Just imagine K-pop star Rain and that’s basically the archetype for J’s ideal man.  She loves the muscular, tall and confident kind—and usually these types end up being ridiculously successful.  They are big-wig bankers (like Bill above), government officials, doctors; hell, one guy even owned a village in Guizhou (according to her sources).

But while they may look good on paper and be easy on the eyes, the end result is usually a few nights out on the town, followed by the disappearing act.  Or, while a few drinks at the bar may seem like a ‘I want to get to know you’ gesture, J is usually uttered the following sentence upon exiting the premises: “Want to go to a hotel?”

These men with power and good looks in China know they can do whatever they want, and when it comes to western women, they feel like they can get an ‘easy hook-up.’  Usually I’m good at spotting these guys, which is why I avoid them like the plague, but unfortunately this is J’s type and there’s really nothing I can do.  I can only sip on my long island from the bar, cheer her on to hit on Chinese man X, and hope to god he’s not a douchebag.

“So what guys do I like?”I ask J one day.

“Weird nerdy ones.  Have glasses.  Kind of look shy.”

(Man with mullet, old, wearing glasses walks past).

“Like that guy, he’s probably your type, right Mary?”

“Good lord J, he has a mullet.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man in China with a mullet!”

“But he has glasses, I thought you liked that?”

“I don’t like a guy JUST cause he has glasses!”

While J isn’t far off and I do tend to like geeky weirdos, I have a confession to make.  To be honest, blog, I have been plagued with an illness.  It happened after dating my Chinese man.  Yes.

I’m suddenly, and for the first time ever, *attracted to Japanese men.

This is like digging a hole.  In fact, this is masochism at its finest.  You’ve heard me btch and moan about how Japanese men are cheaters-4-life, live for their career, don’t express their emotions and eventually stop having sex after marriage.  You think after reading aforementioned sentence I’d stay away from Japanese dudes like the plague.

But after dating Chinese men, seeing a well-dressed Japanese man with his clean shirt and expensive shoes just has me oo and ahh.  Talking to them about arts and politics is refreshing, whereas Chinese men tend to focus more on money and numbers.  We go out to coffee and tea and talk for 3 hours about movies, traveling music—while on the other hand, Chinese men won’t even go with you to a coffee shop, much less spend more than 30 minutes talking with you in there.  Talking to a well-dressed Japanese man about intellectually stimulating topics feels like spring has sprung.  Hearing Japanese bounce off their lips and looking at their perfect hair and great skin—man, it gets me goin.

But they’re the total opposite of what a man should be, in fact, they look gay and probably dress better than I do.  To boot, they’re more than likely sexist and racist due to their upbringing in Japan, and the likelihood of them cheating on me is 99.5%

So while J is chasing hot, rich a-holes; I’m chasing well-dressed, smart, probably half-gay Japanese a-holes.

The point of this?  We’re both chasing a-holes.

No wonder we’re single.