John’s list of Top Ten Ways to be Romantic, Charm the Pants off a Taiwanese Girl and Get Her in the Mood:
1. Get here to take you to where she lived when she was young.
2. Get her to show you all her old schools.
3. Tell her repeatedly you bet she is a good daughter/friend/mother.
4. Ask to see any awards she received as a student.
5. Tell her you are sure she works extremely hard in school/for her company.
6. Ask her to show you where her company is.
7. Tell her she will make it to America to study one day – and she will thrive there.
8. Ask to see pictures of her family. When she says she isn’t carrying any, insist she brings some next time.
9. Show her pictures of yours, especially anything of child age that will get her broody.
10. Take them for coffee or to a bookshop, even better coffee in a bookshop.
Finally with her swooning and dreamy from having her Taiwanese buttons pressed, he would say: “You know you don’t really behave like a Taiwanese person” and she would get excited and ask “Why not?” and he would reply, “The things you like to do, I suppose. An attitude. You are more open and unpredictable. I don’t know.”
“John knew it was different, but he was used to it now. He didn’t mind being the teacher; it was kind of old-fashioned and sweet, igniting those me man, you woman instincts which were not exactly buried very deep anyway. And, most importantly, it kept his alcohol consumption down.
He stopped his scooter by the side of the road to pick up Phoebe. "So what would you like to do?"
"Hmm, no plan."
"Ok. Maybe, you can show me where you lived when you were young?"
Really...But it is in Taipei County. Quite far,” answered Phoebe.
"I am fine," said John.
She put on the helmet and got on the back of his scooter. “Maybe, we can also pass by my old elementary school. It is on the way.”
“I would love to. Let’s get going, it should be a long day…”
Showing posts with label Taiwan dating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Taiwan dating. Show all posts
Friday, July 17, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Taiwan dating: Breaking up Taiwan style
The liberal needs to execute with his bare hands.
Unfortunately, because of our reputation it meant it was always the westerners fault when a relationship broke up.
I had only known Karen Chu for a couple of months when she was posted to Hong Kong for half a year. I explained I wouldn't be faithful for that time so it was best we went our separate ways.
But then it was: “So you want to get rid of me? You think it is okay to just fuck the Chinese girl and then dump them?"
She insisted we shouldn't break up, and, fearing she might be a crazy one, I actually agreed to think about.
I wouldn't normally have tried this, but i decided i would act like a Taiwanese guy for a couple of nights to see if it would do the trick.
The next evening she was out with friends so i gave her a call.
“Hello it is me,”I said then paused saying nothing for a while. "Where are you? ”
“Gan ma, I am in a restaurant.” (‘Gan ma’ meant 'what do you want', it was used in the following ways: colloquial/accusary, used to express coolness or impatience, to throw something back at someone.
“With who?”
“Colleagues, I told you before.”
“What time are you going home?"
“Later!”
“Not too late - call me at 1:00 am.”
Then Karen asked me: “You. Where are you?" I went silent for a few moments to empress my disgust, and to give her time to explain why in the hell she thought she had the right to ask this question; she didn’t apologise and I hung up.
“What’s up,” asked Karen’s friend.
“My boyfriend is really so much trouble.”
I had overheard a conversation like this played out a thousand times by Taiwanese couples - and from both ends. The boyfriend, even though he knew exactly what his girlfriend was doing and where (besides he was out with his own friends) as the evening progressed increasingly cannot accept that she has not called him, reported in - He is the man after all. Now, I was going to use this approach to drive Karen away and I was happy with my performance so far: sullen, quiet, unfriendly, monotone and proud; I didn’t say anything nice, and I didn’t ask her how she was; that was my right because I was the man.
When she asked her question - where I was - I almost stumbled and answered, but that was not the way of the proud Taiwanese man: I didn't need to answer questions about myself.
All was going well - she responded as I expected, aggressive, flippant and short – but this was the easy part. If I was going to do it right I had to phone back in 20 minutes because a chain of events had been set in motion and I had to complete it. It was very hard, acutely embarrassing in fact, because what she did with her own private time was her fucking business.
Twenty minutes later.
“Hello, it is me.” A long pause. “You haven’t gone back yet have you?”I demanded.
“Why are you so mean?”
“How many drinks have you had? You don’t want to get drunk,”I continued.
“Why are you so troublesome?”
I put down the phone.
Several phone calls later, and I had told her I would be waiting outside the restaurant to take her home in twenty minutes.
I had to sit outside the restaurant in the taxi for twenty minutes with the meter running and make a few more calls to her to get her to come out. I had to listen to her while she shouted and screamed, but it was worth it because my girlfriend was at home, and a good Taiwanese man can’t enjoy himself outside when his girlfriend also is.
Next day, she broke up with me for not respecting her freedom.
While she was on the phone I was dying to say: "You want to break up with me because we had one argument? Relationships have there ups and downs and have to be worked at....I thought you Taiwanese were committed?"
Only the fear that i might provoke her to prove a point kept my mouth shut.
Unfortunately, because of our reputation it meant it was always the westerners fault when a relationship broke up.
I had only known Karen Chu for a couple of months when she was posted to Hong Kong for half a year. I explained I wouldn't be faithful for that time so it was best we went our separate ways.
But then it was: “So you want to get rid of me? You think it is okay to just fuck the Chinese girl and then dump them?"
She insisted we shouldn't break up, and, fearing she might be a crazy one, I actually agreed to think about.
I wouldn't normally have tried this, but i decided i would act like a Taiwanese guy for a couple of nights to see if it would do the trick.
The next evening she was out with friends so i gave her a call.
“Hello it is me,”I said then paused saying nothing for a while. "Where are you? ”
“Gan ma, I am in a restaurant.” (‘Gan ma’ meant 'what do you want', it was used in the following ways: colloquial/accusary, used to express coolness or impatience, to throw something back at someone.
“With who?”
“Colleagues, I told you before.”
“What time are you going home?"
“Later!”
“Not too late - call me at 1:00 am.”
Then Karen asked me: “You. Where are you?" I went silent for a few moments to empress my disgust, and to give her time to explain why in the hell she thought she had the right to ask this question; she didn’t apologise and I hung up.
“What’s up,” asked Karen’s friend.
“My boyfriend is really so much trouble.”
I had overheard a conversation like this played out a thousand times by Taiwanese couples - and from both ends. The boyfriend, even though he knew exactly what his girlfriend was doing and where (besides he was out with his own friends) as the evening progressed increasingly cannot accept that she has not called him, reported in - He is the man after all. Now, I was going to use this approach to drive Karen away and I was happy with my performance so far: sullen, quiet, unfriendly, monotone and proud; I didn’t say anything nice, and I didn’t ask her how she was; that was my right because I was the man.
When she asked her question - where I was - I almost stumbled and answered, but that was not the way of the proud Taiwanese man: I didn't need to answer questions about myself.
All was going well - she responded as I expected, aggressive, flippant and short – but this was the easy part. If I was going to do it right I had to phone back in 20 minutes because a chain of events had been set in motion and I had to complete it. It was very hard, acutely embarrassing in fact, because what she did with her own private time was her fucking business.
Twenty minutes later.
“Hello, it is me.” A long pause. “You haven’t gone back yet have you?”I demanded.
“Why are you so mean?”
“How many drinks have you had? You don’t want to get drunk,”I continued.
“Why are you so troublesome?”
I put down the phone.
Several phone calls later, and I had told her I would be waiting outside the restaurant to take her home in twenty minutes.
I had to sit outside the restaurant in the taxi for twenty minutes with the meter running and make a few more calls to her to get her to come out. I had to listen to her while she shouted and screamed, but it was worth it because my girlfriend was at home, and a good Taiwanese man can’t enjoy himself outside when his girlfriend also is.
Next day, she broke up with me for not respecting her freedom.
While she was on the phone I was dying to say: "You want to break up with me because we had one argument? Relationships have there ups and downs and have to be worked at....I thought you Taiwanese were committed?"
Only the fear that i might provoke her to prove a point kept my mouth shut.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Taiwan Culture Shock: It is hard being the superior sex IV
Eric hadn’t called back Diane. Once he woke up in the morning he had decided this was his first time dumping a girl based on looks and so, of course, it had been hard. He shouldn’t unilaterally declare himself unable to be a stud but give himself a few more opportunities to adjust. He might be able to get used to being the superior sex. Get over his culture shock.
He had been dating Emily – the introduction from John - for a few weeks now. She was beautiful, interesting and fun. His fears had been unfounded. He knew he had to view things differently; in Taiwan he could get hot girls and he knew he shouldn’t question that. Just enjoy. He put on that smart shirt he had bought when they started dating, thinking he would have to buy a new one soon - and he changed out of his shorts. He really missed his goatee. Finally, he checked his wallet and went out the door to meet Emily for dinner.
“You are not having a sweet?” asked Emily.
Eric calculated the cost of the dinner in his head. “No thanks.” His main course had been four hundred NT dollars, and when you added in the cost of the starters and drinks it would go over fifteen hundred dollars - Nothing if he was back in New York, but he wasn’t. He was in Taiwan where good food could be had for sixty in a basic eatery, and a set meal for a hundred and fifty in a nice teashop. Today the bill was high because they were eating at an Italian restaurant. He preferred to eat Chinese or some other Asian food, but if you have a hot woman who was interested in you because you were a foreigner he presumed this was the price you have to pay.
“I will pay you know. You don’t always have to. Please let me today,” said Emily. “I know you are a student and you don’t have much money. You know we Taiwanese girls are not interested in the money, but feeling. Feeling is most important. We support our man. You know, my ex-boyfriend wanted to set up a business so I lent him one million NT, and he never paid it back. You are a good guy. I know you are young and studying Chinese because you are interested in Chinese things. You are very hard working. I know you will do very well in future.”
Jesus, thought Eric, don’t you know I am a neurotic fucker. You have just given me enough to obsess over the rest of my life.
Still he tried to focus on the issue that had started her diatribe. ‘Ok’, would be a good answer, but then he felt guilty – beautiful, interesting, and sharing paying for dinner.
“It is ok. I am the man – I will pay.”
Eric took a look around the restaurant discreetly. It was filled with white guys like him trying to impress Taiwanese girls with conversation about the thin-crust pizza, that was authentic Italian pizza; that the Pizza hut chains across the city were not proper pizza, and stick with them and you could learn what Americans are really doing.
What fucking bullshit. There were fucking thousands in Pizza Hut in America selling the same shit they were here.
Emily didn’t get a sweet because Eric was paying and he got the bill. They walked down the lane looking in the window of restaurants heading in the direction of the main road, Chong Hsaio East Road. This stretch starting at Sogo at Chung Hsiao East and Fu Hsing South roads’ intersection then continuing on Chung Hsaio in an easterly direction for about twenty minutes to Guang Fu South road, was unofficially declared downtown.
He had asked why this was considered downtown and it seemed the answer the number of department stores. Back home towns and centers of populations grew up around a river or a hill or a church, here it was the department store. A hundred years ago most of the city was slum housing, or rice fields, so don’t expect to find any Westminster Abbeys or Versailles Palaces, the department stores are the nicest looking buildings around. Since Diane had told him it was the department stores he had questioned several people: What about Nan Jing and Chung Shan Roads, Hsimenteng, the area around the Warner Village in the very new Hsin Yi District, and Tienmu? But everyone was sure there were more square inches of makeup counters, escalator rungs, wooden racks, mirrors and changing booths per person in this area than any other part of the city - maybe the world. Along with the department stores were the KTVs ( family and adult), offices, high street brands from around the world, small boutiques, tea houses, fast food joints, gymnasiums, coffee shops and upscale restaurants all with music blaring.
Off the main road the lanes sprawling south to RenAi and north to Civil Boulevard were all restaurants, teashops and small boutiques on the first floor, and apartments above. This was still prime residential real estate despite the noise.
“Wow, can we stop?” said Emily spotting a stall selling sweet bean curd with peanuts and sweets.
“Of course.”
They ordered and sat down on the round metal stools, elbows perched on the edge of the stall next to their polystyrene bowls; scooters shooting past them. “You know this is what I miss most in America, Taiwanese snacks. I know you are an American and I should get used to eating American food, but I don’t really like it. Next time can we go to the night market? It will be fun,” she said.
What a fucking arsehole, thought Eric. That is about six thousand in dinners I have paid for. I could have avoided working for a week…I could have paid for a trip down south for a few days…Fuck.
She leaned forward. “We don’t always have to go out you know. I like to just buy some food and eat at home...More time to make love. I know you like the massage.”
“I got the picture. You can have an overload of salt to heal a wound…I think…”said Eric.
“So you don’t like America,” he continued.
“I like America very much. Hmm, very free.”
I see – I knew this was too good to be true: want the passport, don’t you girl! I ain’t going to be your green card then dumped, thought Eric pleased he hadn’t been entirely wrong about her.
“I could have stayed in America. My boyfriend want to marry me, but I think not many job opportunities. It was so sad. I loved him so much, but here I am the manager.”
“There are still good opportunities in America for you.”
“I know but my English is not perfect. I don’t do the MBA for nothing.”
Emily paid for the sweets, then asked: “Can we go to the bar for a drink? We have never been together. John introduced us and we should buy him a drink to say thank you.”
Eric got excited by the prospect of walking into the bar with one of the best looking girls…He started to worry about what would happen if some guy came to hit on his woman. “John is not out tonight. Next time, ok,” he said.
* * *
An hour later they were at a love hotel making love.
Suddenly Emily started to cry. “Sorry. I am sorry I got inside too quickly,” said Eric. “No excuses. I am too rough.”
Eric started massaging her breasts and manoeuvre his head between her legs.
“What are you doing? I am crying,” she said.
He negotiated another wave of self-loathing and moved back up next to her.
“I’m sorry. What is wrong?”
“I think you a shame of me. You won’t take me to the bar to meet your friends. You won’t take me to your apartment…And…”
She went silent.
“What?”
“I know I shouldn’t say. I am maybe not so pretty, and so interesting compare to the American girl. My mother say I won’t ever marry because I too bad-tempered …don’t respect man -”
Eric blinked: “One thing at a time, please. Ok, I am listening.”
“If you are a Taiwanese man, maybe I say nothing, but you say I can tell you anything if I have a problem; that you American men will listen. I think you don’t respect me. You only want to see me once a week. You don’t ask me where I want to eat. You say you like the American way but you don’t let me pay for dinner. I don’t feel like the proper girlfriend…”
Eric explained she hadn’t come to his house because he had a mattress on the floor and no furniture…He took her to a good restaurant because he was trying to impress…That they only met once a week because he didn’t have any money to take her other times. The question of why he didn’t take her to the bar went unexplained because he didn’t want to sound like a wimp.
They made love and then as he lied on the bed watching TV, he decided again that he had to accept that it was a different dynamic. As Josh said, it was about supply and demand and there weren’t many whiteys like him in Taiwan.
He looked at her sleeping naked next to him. She was different from Diane because all he had had to say was - “You look fantastic, and I would like you to sleep naked”- and the next day, he didn’t see those pyjamas again. She did look fantastic. He preferred a girl to have breasts. If she put on five kilos or so she would look even better, and would have something that would feel cuddly and soft rather than tight contours. It would be nice, if he couldn’t feel bones against his crotch when they made love. If her nipples were dark and large, rather than small and light pink it would be amazing. A little suntan and she would be perfect.
Anyway, he couldn’t exactly finish with her for being over-emotional. As a Taiwanese woman in this society she no doubt had a hard life, suppressed a lot of emotions. He felt sorry for her that no Taiwanese man would accept her just for speaking out what she felt. He should be forgiving that, perhaps, she was letting out a lot of emotions now she felt safe to do so with a foreigner. Still he would have to watch to see she didn’t get carried away. He didn’t know about the future however now he had found out she was extremely bad-tempered. She had to understand a western man didn’t let you get away with everything; there was responsibility with the freedom he offered…
He had been dating Emily – the introduction from John - for a few weeks now. She was beautiful, interesting and fun. His fears had been unfounded. He knew he had to view things differently; in Taiwan he could get hot girls and he knew he shouldn’t question that. Just enjoy. He put on that smart shirt he had bought when they started dating, thinking he would have to buy a new one soon - and he changed out of his shorts. He really missed his goatee. Finally, he checked his wallet and went out the door to meet Emily for dinner.
“You are not having a sweet?” asked Emily.
Eric calculated the cost of the dinner in his head. “No thanks.” His main course had been four hundred NT dollars, and when you added in the cost of the starters and drinks it would go over fifteen hundred dollars - Nothing if he was back in New York, but he wasn’t. He was in Taiwan where good food could be had for sixty in a basic eatery, and a set meal for a hundred and fifty in a nice teashop. Today the bill was high because they were eating at an Italian restaurant. He preferred to eat Chinese or some other Asian food, but if you have a hot woman who was interested in you because you were a foreigner he presumed this was the price you have to pay.
“I will pay you know. You don’t always have to. Please let me today,” said Emily. “I know you are a student and you don’t have much money. You know we Taiwanese girls are not interested in the money, but feeling. Feeling is most important. We support our man. You know, my ex-boyfriend wanted to set up a business so I lent him one million NT, and he never paid it back. You are a good guy. I know you are young and studying Chinese because you are interested in Chinese things. You are very hard working. I know you will do very well in future.”
Jesus, thought Eric, don’t you know I am a neurotic fucker. You have just given me enough to obsess over the rest of my life.
Still he tried to focus on the issue that had started her diatribe. ‘Ok’, would be a good answer, but then he felt guilty – beautiful, interesting, and sharing paying for dinner.
“It is ok. I am the man – I will pay.”
Eric took a look around the restaurant discreetly. It was filled with white guys like him trying to impress Taiwanese girls with conversation about the thin-crust pizza, that was authentic Italian pizza; that the Pizza hut chains across the city were not proper pizza, and stick with them and you could learn what Americans are really doing.
What fucking bullshit. There were fucking thousands in Pizza Hut in America selling the same shit they were here.
Emily didn’t get a sweet because Eric was paying and he got the bill. They walked down the lane looking in the window of restaurants heading in the direction of the main road, Chong Hsaio East Road. This stretch starting at Sogo at Chung Hsiao East and Fu Hsing South roads’ intersection then continuing on Chung Hsaio in an easterly direction for about twenty minutes to Guang Fu South road, was unofficially declared downtown.
He had asked why this was considered downtown and it seemed the answer the number of department stores. Back home towns and centers of populations grew up around a river or a hill or a church, here it was the department store. A hundred years ago most of the city was slum housing, or rice fields, so don’t expect to find any Westminster Abbeys or Versailles Palaces, the department stores are the nicest looking buildings around. Since Diane had told him it was the department stores he had questioned several people: What about Nan Jing and Chung Shan Roads, Hsimenteng, the area around the Warner Village in the very new Hsin Yi District, and Tienmu? But everyone was sure there were more square inches of makeup counters, escalator rungs, wooden racks, mirrors and changing booths per person in this area than any other part of the city - maybe the world. Along with the department stores were the KTVs ( family and adult), offices, high street brands from around the world, small boutiques, tea houses, fast food joints, gymnasiums, coffee shops and upscale restaurants all with music blaring.
Off the main road the lanes sprawling south to RenAi and north to Civil Boulevard were all restaurants, teashops and small boutiques on the first floor, and apartments above. This was still prime residential real estate despite the noise.
“Wow, can we stop?” said Emily spotting a stall selling sweet bean curd with peanuts and sweets.
“Of course.”
They ordered and sat down on the round metal stools, elbows perched on the edge of the stall next to their polystyrene bowls; scooters shooting past them. “You know this is what I miss most in America, Taiwanese snacks. I know you are an American and I should get used to eating American food, but I don’t really like it. Next time can we go to the night market? It will be fun,” she said.
What a fucking arsehole, thought Eric. That is about six thousand in dinners I have paid for. I could have avoided working for a week…I could have paid for a trip down south for a few days…Fuck.
She leaned forward. “We don’t always have to go out you know. I like to just buy some food and eat at home...More time to make love. I know you like the massage.”
“I got the picture. You can have an overload of salt to heal a wound…I think…”said Eric.
“So you don’t like America,” he continued.
“I like America very much. Hmm, very free.”
I see – I knew this was too good to be true: want the passport, don’t you girl! I ain’t going to be your green card then dumped, thought Eric pleased he hadn’t been entirely wrong about her.
“I could have stayed in America. My boyfriend want to marry me, but I think not many job opportunities. It was so sad. I loved him so much, but here I am the manager.”
“There are still good opportunities in America for you.”
“I know but my English is not perfect. I don’t do the MBA for nothing.”
Emily paid for the sweets, then asked: “Can we go to the bar for a drink? We have never been together. John introduced us and we should buy him a drink to say thank you.”
Eric got excited by the prospect of walking into the bar with one of the best looking girls…He started to worry about what would happen if some guy came to hit on his woman. “John is not out tonight. Next time, ok,” he said.
* * *
An hour later they were at a love hotel making love.
Suddenly Emily started to cry. “Sorry. I am sorry I got inside too quickly,” said Eric. “No excuses. I am too rough.”
Eric started massaging her breasts and manoeuvre his head between her legs.
“What are you doing? I am crying,” she said.
He negotiated another wave of self-loathing and moved back up next to her.
“I’m sorry. What is wrong?”
“I think you a shame of me. You won’t take me to the bar to meet your friends. You won’t take me to your apartment…And…”
She went silent.
“What?”
“I know I shouldn’t say. I am maybe not so pretty, and so interesting compare to the American girl. My mother say I won’t ever marry because I too bad-tempered …don’t respect man -”
Eric blinked: “One thing at a time, please. Ok, I am listening.”
“If you are a Taiwanese man, maybe I say nothing, but you say I can tell you anything if I have a problem; that you American men will listen. I think you don’t respect me. You only want to see me once a week. You don’t ask me where I want to eat. You say you like the American way but you don’t let me pay for dinner. I don’t feel like the proper girlfriend…”
Eric explained she hadn’t come to his house because he had a mattress on the floor and no furniture…He took her to a good restaurant because he was trying to impress…That they only met once a week because he didn’t have any money to take her other times. The question of why he didn’t take her to the bar went unexplained because he didn’t want to sound like a wimp.
They made love and then as he lied on the bed watching TV, he decided again that he had to accept that it was a different dynamic. As Josh said, it was about supply and demand and there weren’t many whiteys like him in Taiwan.
He looked at her sleeping naked next to him. She was different from Diane because all he had had to say was - “You look fantastic, and I would like you to sleep naked”- and the next day, he didn’t see those pyjamas again. She did look fantastic. He preferred a girl to have breasts. If she put on five kilos or so she would look even better, and would have something that would feel cuddly and soft rather than tight contours. It would be nice, if he couldn’t feel bones against his crotch when they made love. If her nipples were dark and large, rather than small and light pink it would be amazing. A little suntan and she would be perfect.
Anyway, he couldn’t exactly finish with her for being over-emotional. As a Taiwanese woman in this society she no doubt had a hard life, suppressed a lot of emotions. He felt sorry for her that no Taiwanese man would accept her just for speaking out what she felt. He should be forgiving that, perhaps, she was letting out a lot of emotions now she felt safe to do so with a foreigner. Still he would have to watch to see she didn’t get carried away. He didn’t know about the future however now he had found out she was extremely bad-tempered. She had to understand a western man didn’t let you get away with everything; there was responsibility with the freedom he offered…
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
An Englishman in Taipei IV
Being English in Taipei could even slow your progress to the bedroom if you used the wrong word.
Lucy Chen was an English major at University getting ready for her life changing experience in the great USA.
She was a nice girl, but clearly interested in practicing her English, hanging on my every word and not because she was interested in anything i had to say.
I enjoyed dating girls like this, watching their expressions and nervous excitement. She had been studying for 10 years, and she had always feared that it might not work, but now she was talking to a foreigner - The foreigner asked questions, the answer she had studied worked, foreigner understood, we were communicating...Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
Still it could be slow waiting while she sought to check the word or phrase against the million textbooks she had memorized word for word. You could see her systemically dredging up chapter, unit, and then page, remembering the context in which it was used, cross-referencing with what you said before interpreting a meaning.
That day had another problem. In the afternoon I had spent alot of time talking to English people and slipped back into English mode. She had already asked several questions when I had used 'Englishisms' and this had slowed things down. I had to concentrate really hard on at least removing as much British English vocabulary as i could. I was afraid i might blow this - and she was really pretty.
“Let’s move onto a question from chapter five customs and culture…Sub-heading one, Going to Strange Western Man’s Flat!”I said before realizing my mistake.
“Flat? Why you say go to flat?”
“Sorry, apartment!”I said.
“Why you say flat?” She was beginning to panic: maybe, the book was wrong and it had all been for nothing.
“Doesn’t matter!”
“No, please why you say flat?” I knew I was going to have to explain. A pillar of her existence had been challenged.
“It is English for apartment. Same meaning.” She made a sentence in her head, but she was worried now that she was wasting her time talking to an Englishman.
“England has a lot of different words?”she asked.
“Not so many! Now come back to my apartment…flat…there you go, one new word already tonight…and I will explain some more later. I heard Americans don’t understand, ‘shag.’”
“Shag? Yes…No, I never hear that.”
She came back to my apartment, looked through my photos, and said she thought we could be good friends.
Oh, the pain of being English.
Lucy Chen was an English major at University getting ready for her life changing experience in the great USA.
She was a nice girl, but clearly interested in practicing her English, hanging on my every word and not because she was interested in anything i had to say.
I enjoyed dating girls like this, watching their expressions and nervous excitement. She had been studying for 10 years, and she had always feared that it might not work, but now she was talking to a foreigner - The foreigner asked questions, the answer she had studied worked, foreigner understood, we were communicating...Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
Still it could be slow waiting while she sought to check the word or phrase against the million textbooks she had memorized word for word. You could see her systemically dredging up chapter, unit, and then page, remembering the context in which it was used, cross-referencing with what you said before interpreting a meaning.
That day had another problem. In the afternoon I had spent alot of time talking to English people and slipped back into English mode. She had already asked several questions when I had used 'Englishisms' and this had slowed things down. I had to concentrate really hard on at least removing as much British English vocabulary as i could. I was afraid i might blow this - and she was really pretty.
“Let’s move onto a question from chapter five customs and culture…Sub-heading one, Going to Strange Western Man’s Flat!”I said before realizing my mistake.
“Flat? Why you say go to flat?”
“Sorry, apartment!”I said.
“Why you say flat?” She was beginning to panic: maybe, the book was wrong and it had all been for nothing.
“Doesn’t matter!”
“No, please why you say flat?” I knew I was going to have to explain. A pillar of her existence had been challenged.
“It is English for apartment. Same meaning.” She made a sentence in her head, but she was worried now that she was wasting her time talking to an Englishman.
“England has a lot of different words?”she asked.
“Not so many! Now come back to my apartment…flat…there you go, one new word already tonight…and I will explain some more later. I heard Americans don’t understand, ‘shag.’”
“Shag? Yes…No, I never hear that.”
She came back to my apartment, looked through my photos, and said she thought we could be good friends.
Oh, the pain of being English.
An Englishman in Taipei III
The British actors penchant for only playing homosexuals, wimps, weirdos, pyschos and reserved snobs in Hollywood, had done real damage to the average Englishman in Taipei's macho credentials.
The average date:
“You English are gentleman, right?” said Lucy.
“What about the football hooligans?” I said.
At first I had been so overwhelmed by the stereotypes of an inferior English accent, and American superiority I had decided to keep my mouth shut; I almost believed them. But slowly I had found a few people who appreciated the English accent, and didn’t think it was a stuffy, rained every day, bowler hat doffing giant Merchant Ivory Production and I felt I could retake some of the ground between perception and reality.
“I don’t know, but the English are shy…don’t like trouble,”continued Lucy.
“What about James Bond? – He is British,” I pushed.
“Yes, but he is very American-style.”
“Hmm…Anyway…"
The average date:
“You English are gentleman, right?” said Lucy.
“What about the football hooligans?” I said.
At first I had been so overwhelmed by the stereotypes of an inferior English accent, and American superiority I had decided to keep my mouth shut; I almost believed them. But slowly I had found a few people who appreciated the English accent, and didn’t think it was a stuffy, rained every day, bowler hat doffing giant Merchant Ivory Production and I felt I could retake some of the ground between perception and reality.
“I don’t know, but the English are shy…don’t like trouble,”continued Lucy.
“What about James Bond? – He is British,” I pushed.
“Yes, but he is very American-style.”
“Hmm…Anyway…"
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Taiwan dating: Getting some insights
With the girl from Subway who took me to MTV, I had managed to get some insights into Taiwanese girls: they were relatively shyer, repressed but definitely not less willing. Still I was an English oath whose main pick up technique was to get drunk, hope the girl was also, and then dance and rub my crotch on her as my way of asking for her phone number. This technique could still get you laid in the bar in Taiwan – There were the girls who wanted a foreigner more than life itself and were prepared to put up with your awful approach – however, after a few months in Taiwan I was interested in going beyond these girls.
After the initial euphoria wore off I noticed the majority of pretty girls in the bar were interested in meeting a foreigner but not interested enough to accept the rubbing and crotch thrusts. I also noticed there were a bunch of guys who knew the right technique and me and my recently arrived friends watched in envy as they left with them – while we were stuck with the same girls who had this unnaturally fluent English for someone who had lived their whole life in Taiwan, and an insistence on giving you a long lecture about how much they liked western culture.
Fortunately, I knew John and, as usual, he knew what to do. His advice was simple: they need a get out clause to not feel bad about what they are doing; go cheesy, the more cheesy the better; think of the naffest, fingers down your throat line that would get you laughed out of town and deliver it with gusto.
I guessed it must work because John managed to get new arrivals from the disco to a love hotel, and I couldn’t possibly see how the purpose could be hidden. I decided the disco to love hotel thing was a bridge too far so I decided my best hope was to take numbers and try it on a first date. I called up a girl called Claire Hsu who I had met the previous week. Claire still spoke excellent English, but in that slightly stilted and formal way that suggested she hadn’t been using it with upteen foreign boyfriends before me. She was new to the foreign market but it seems not without the usual stereotypes.
“So why do you like the foreigner?” I asked because I had fallen into a habit of identifying myself as such, not a person. It seemed to me almost everyone had an opinion about the foreigner, some incredibly good - almost all good, in fact - it was just that they weren’t going to stick to politically correct slavish notions, ignore national stereotypes and from scratch, slowly and tentatively try and find out the real me. It didn’t bother me because I hadn’t exactly grown up adverse to making generalizations about my fellow man that I had lived to regret - saying one thing the result of inbred prejudices, and then doing another based on moral integrity. Some people worked ceaselessly for charity and then treated their loved ones horribly. How well I was treated by the Taiwanese only served to confirm this theory to me. I knew I didn’t have all the answers, but at the same time, I wasn’t going to call them racist like so many did.
“You westerners are more opened-minded, treat your women nice,” said Claire.
“That is right. You know in England they are developing ways for men to breastfeed.”
“Really?”
“No, I am sorry. But, yes, we like to share everything equally. I would feel terrible otherwise,” I said unsure if I was being serious or not. I continued, "White men are the root of all evil back home."
"That is stupid," she replied.
"Yeah...well - Maybe, I should take you to a Woman's Group Meeting back home."I thought it was fantastic to finally hear what I kind of knew, but are not allowed to say in PC Britain: western men were actually relatively good to their women. I know it had nothing to do with anything innate to the western male character - it was merely we had been shamed, pushed, and legislated against forcing us to be so.
We then discussed her work. She said she was very busy at the moment.
“I know,” I replied. You have to earn money. I heard it everyday from Taiwanese, delivered as if their life depended upon it. “Yes,” she replied, smiling, relieved I understood.
Finally, we touched bases on stereotypes of Englishman.
“So you are from English - a gentleman,” she said.“Yeap, that’s right me love, a real gentleman,” I replied.
I loved the national stereotypes and nobody knowing my West of England accent.“What do you mean, a real gentleman?” she asked.
“Well, my family used to live on a council estate. Do you know what an estate is?”
“I know - big house, land…like that movie Sense and the Sensibility…I watched that.”
They all had because the director, Ang Lee, was Taiwanese.“Spot on. It was called the Bourneville, by the way.”
“You say used to?” she said now extremely interested.
“Yeah, we moved to something bigger in the city…We didn’t want to deal with the government anymore.” I could see her looking at my tattoo and starting to formulate questions. “That is my coat of arms…You know, sign your family is from good stock.”
She didn’t understand, but nodded anyway not wanting to appear too bolshie on the first date.
“I went to England - London.”
“I know.”
“So where did you graduate from?”
“University of Essex. I just missed out on Oxford – one point you know – gutted me.”
“Wow, so you are a smart guy. Why are you teaching English in Taiwan, then?”
“I am lazy, ill-disciplined. I figure I can make a fast buck without having to work hard.” Best not to build their hopes up, I reasoned.
“What is ‘wot’ she asked?”
The first time I had said, ‘What do you mean? What is wot?’” And it had gone back in circles for a while. Now I knew better: “Wot is the English way of saying WHAT,” I replied with an American accent on the second 'what'.
“Let me get the bill.”
“Please. It is my treat,” said Claire. “I know you don’t have much money. You are new in Taiwan.”
“No. I insist. I am the man.”
Now was the delicate part of the evening, I thought. If I wait a few more dates than of course she will be mine, but that is not my objective.
“I have had a good time,” I said.
“Me too,” she replied.
“Thanks. So what do you want to do now? Watch TV or a video?” I asked.
“Yes, I like to watch video.”
“Wonderful. I am sorry…” I said.
“What is the matter?” she replied.“You know I stay in the hostel now, so there are too many people. It is hard to get used to…not having a house anymore.”
“We can watch at mine?”
“Really? Are you sure? I don’t want to embarrass you, having a strange man in your house.”
“No, that is ok. We are only watching a video so nothing to be shamed of.”
“Exactly - You really have a western attitude,” I said then watched the quiver of pride shoot up her body.
“Thank you. You really think so.”
“Definitely.”
We got in her car, drove to near the intersection of Fuhsing South Road and ChongHsaio East Road, turned into underground parking, and then took the lift to the tenth floor; when we got out we walked along a white-walled corridor not out of place in a hospital, and then went through the metal aluminum door to her one-bedroom apartment. Out the window I could see Sogo. This area was the center of the city. There was ten-lane road outside the window.
“Let’s shut the window, please. You can only get a certain amount of good petrol fumes in your lungs in a day.”
“What is petrol?”“I am sorry – gas.” I said. “Nice location.”
“Convenient for the restaurant and KTV,” she replied.
“Yeah, very smart also given the bad the traffic. You must be able to walk to work.”
“No. My work is in Neihu. Oh, so much trouble. Forty minutes drive every morning.”
I had heard of Neihu, it was actually a very nice suburb with mountains, lakes and parks.“As I say you made the right choice - mountainous residential suburb next to your work or box by the roadside next to the nightlife.”
I eyed the sofa and the apartment in general. Furniture was mostly Ikea and sparse. She had a fairly small TV for a Taiwanese – thirty inch. She had hung a lot of material on the white walls and given it a warm touch. Still he had the feeling, like I did in most people houses, they could pack there stuff and be gone in thirty minutes if they had too.
“Hey, what about the video,” I said. “I am sorry, how did we forget?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
I continued, “Anyway, I am sure there is something good on HBO.”
We need something to drown out the sound of the traffic, I thought.
I waited ten minutes then reached into my bag. “So, I went to get some photos developed today. They are of my family just before I left. Would you like to see?” I asked.
“Please. I would like very much?” she replied.“Your mother is beautiful…Your father handsome - He looks like the movie star.”
“Don’t we all…So this is my sister and her daughter.”
“How old is she?”
“Five.”
“She looks so mature. Why are you foreigner children so mature?”
“I can assure you it is only a look….Well…that is them all.”
“Thank you very much. So nice,” she gushed.
I insisted she get out her family photos.
“Wow you have a nice family. I can see you are a good daughter,” I said.
“No, no.” But I saw a ripple of satisfaction go through her body.She picked up the cushion next to her, and covered her stomach. “I am tired,” she said, before closing her eyes.
Time already is it, I thought. I leaned over, took the pillow, and started to kiss her. For the next five minutes she said, I am tired, and brought the pillow back to her lap, while I took it away again. When the pillow stopped coming back, I started on the clothes. Slowly, she started to respond with reciprocal kisses and cuddles, but I wasn’t expecting her to rip off my shirt.
It was time for the underwear.“What are you doing?” she said, pulling back. “I am not that kind of girl.”
“I am sorry…I know you are a good girl and this is a big deal for you,” I said before going back to massaging and kissing.
I was actually really nervous at this stage and was prepared to give up – but I thought I better follow through with the advice and so started counting.…ten...nine..Wow, this time it is not too quick, I thought.
“Hmm, I think you don’t need that,” said Claire as I started to rip open a condom packet.
I then went through my standard speech. “I think I do…I’m sorry…How to explain. I know you don’t normally do this sort of thing. You are not a dirty girl. I am wearing it for another reason. It is kind of embarrassing: if I don’t wear it I will cum too quickly. I want you to enjoy more.”
Then she gave me a surprise: “It is okay I don’t need to enjoy so much,” she said.
I was stumped because the girls in the bar so far had liked the idea that I wanted to satisfy them. I had to think quickly to remember the rule: give them a reason to pass the buck to you.
“Sorry,” I said. “I know you are only interested in my sexual gratification and not your own. I mean it is for me you see: I don’t want to cum so quickly. You want to make your man happy don’t you?”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really. It is your fault you are too sexy.”
“Me! No!”
“Yes. Really. You are too sexy,” I repeated.“Hmm, I must accept then. I want you to enjoy. But I feel strange. Not natural – nobody have ever with me before.”
“That is why I am going to, love…Nothing.”
“Your welcome,” she replied.
“Hah, you are so strong,” cried Claire. “You cum so much.”
“There you go - Told you condoms are useful for something.”
“Maybe… but still strange - I only use the condom with you.”
“That is a pity - For your sake anyway…”
“I am sorry. I have to go. I have to get up early tomorrow morning to teach,” I said.
She looked upset so I tried to console her. “I am sorry again. I didn’t expect this to happen. The moment was special.”
“Yes, I know. Uh…me, neither. I don’t normally do this sort of thing.”
“Of course you don’t.”
I put on my clothes and instinctively checked my wallet for the name card for the hotel so I could get home. I gave her a good-bye kiss.
On his way out I saw her turn her phone back on and start checking for messages. She was great; they all were.
After the initial euphoria wore off I noticed the majority of pretty girls in the bar were interested in meeting a foreigner but not interested enough to accept the rubbing and crotch thrusts. I also noticed there were a bunch of guys who knew the right technique and me and my recently arrived friends watched in envy as they left with them – while we were stuck with the same girls who had this unnaturally fluent English for someone who had lived their whole life in Taiwan, and an insistence on giving you a long lecture about how much they liked western culture.
Fortunately, I knew John and, as usual, he knew what to do. His advice was simple: they need a get out clause to not feel bad about what they are doing; go cheesy, the more cheesy the better; think of the naffest, fingers down your throat line that would get you laughed out of town and deliver it with gusto.
I guessed it must work because John managed to get new arrivals from the disco to a love hotel, and I couldn’t possibly see how the purpose could be hidden. I decided the disco to love hotel thing was a bridge too far so I decided my best hope was to take numbers and try it on a first date. I called up a girl called Claire Hsu who I had met the previous week. Claire still spoke excellent English, but in that slightly stilted and formal way that suggested she hadn’t been using it with upteen foreign boyfriends before me. She was new to the foreign market but it seems not without the usual stereotypes.
“So why do you like the foreigner?” I asked because I had fallen into a habit of identifying myself as such, not a person. It seemed to me almost everyone had an opinion about the foreigner, some incredibly good - almost all good, in fact - it was just that they weren’t going to stick to politically correct slavish notions, ignore national stereotypes and from scratch, slowly and tentatively try and find out the real me. It didn’t bother me because I hadn’t exactly grown up adverse to making generalizations about my fellow man that I had lived to regret - saying one thing the result of inbred prejudices, and then doing another based on moral integrity. Some people worked ceaselessly for charity and then treated their loved ones horribly. How well I was treated by the Taiwanese only served to confirm this theory to me. I knew I didn’t have all the answers, but at the same time, I wasn’t going to call them racist like so many did.
“You westerners are more opened-minded, treat your women nice,” said Claire.
“That is right. You know in England they are developing ways for men to breastfeed.”
“Really?”
“No, I am sorry. But, yes, we like to share everything equally. I would feel terrible otherwise,” I said unsure if I was being serious or not. I continued, "White men are the root of all evil back home."
"That is stupid," she replied.
"Yeah...well - Maybe, I should take you to a Woman's Group Meeting back home."I thought it was fantastic to finally hear what I kind of knew, but are not allowed to say in PC Britain: western men were actually relatively good to their women. I know it had nothing to do with anything innate to the western male character - it was merely we had been shamed, pushed, and legislated against forcing us to be so.
We then discussed her work. She said she was very busy at the moment.
“I know,” I replied. You have to earn money. I heard it everyday from Taiwanese, delivered as if their life depended upon it. “Yes,” she replied, smiling, relieved I understood.
Finally, we touched bases on stereotypes of Englishman.
“So you are from English - a gentleman,” she said.“Yeap, that’s right me love, a real gentleman,” I replied.
I loved the national stereotypes and nobody knowing my West of England accent.“What do you mean, a real gentleman?” she asked.
“Well, my family used to live on a council estate. Do you know what an estate is?”
“I know - big house, land…like that movie Sense and the Sensibility…I watched that.”
They all had because the director, Ang Lee, was Taiwanese.“Spot on. It was called the Bourneville, by the way.”
“You say used to?” she said now extremely interested.
“Yeah, we moved to something bigger in the city…We didn’t want to deal with the government anymore.” I could see her looking at my tattoo and starting to formulate questions. “That is my coat of arms…You know, sign your family is from good stock.”
She didn’t understand, but nodded anyway not wanting to appear too bolshie on the first date.
“I went to England - London.”
“I know.”
“So where did you graduate from?”
“University of Essex. I just missed out on Oxford – one point you know – gutted me.”
“Wow, so you are a smart guy. Why are you teaching English in Taiwan, then?”
“I am lazy, ill-disciplined. I figure I can make a fast buck without having to work hard.” Best not to build their hopes up, I reasoned.
“What is ‘wot’ she asked?”
The first time I had said, ‘What do you mean? What is wot?’” And it had gone back in circles for a while. Now I knew better: “Wot is the English way of saying WHAT,” I replied with an American accent on the second 'what'.
“Let me get the bill.”
“Please. It is my treat,” said Claire. “I know you don’t have much money. You are new in Taiwan.”
“No. I insist. I am the man.”
Now was the delicate part of the evening, I thought. If I wait a few more dates than of course she will be mine, but that is not my objective.
“I have had a good time,” I said.
“Me too,” she replied.
“Thanks. So what do you want to do now? Watch TV or a video?” I asked.
“Yes, I like to watch video.”
“Wonderful. I am sorry…” I said.
“What is the matter?” she replied.“You know I stay in the hostel now, so there are too many people. It is hard to get used to…not having a house anymore.”
“We can watch at mine?”
“Really? Are you sure? I don’t want to embarrass you, having a strange man in your house.”
“No, that is ok. We are only watching a video so nothing to be shamed of.”
“Exactly - You really have a western attitude,” I said then watched the quiver of pride shoot up her body.
“Thank you. You really think so.”
“Definitely.”
We got in her car, drove to near the intersection of Fuhsing South Road and ChongHsaio East Road, turned into underground parking, and then took the lift to the tenth floor; when we got out we walked along a white-walled corridor not out of place in a hospital, and then went through the metal aluminum door to her one-bedroom apartment. Out the window I could see Sogo. This area was the center of the city. There was ten-lane road outside the window.
“Let’s shut the window, please. You can only get a certain amount of good petrol fumes in your lungs in a day.”
“What is petrol?”“I am sorry – gas.” I said. “Nice location.”
“Convenient for the restaurant and KTV,” she replied.
“Yeah, very smart also given the bad the traffic. You must be able to walk to work.”
“No. My work is in Neihu. Oh, so much trouble. Forty minutes drive every morning.”
I had heard of Neihu, it was actually a very nice suburb with mountains, lakes and parks.“As I say you made the right choice - mountainous residential suburb next to your work or box by the roadside next to the nightlife.”
I eyed the sofa and the apartment in general. Furniture was mostly Ikea and sparse. She had a fairly small TV for a Taiwanese – thirty inch. She had hung a lot of material on the white walls and given it a warm touch. Still he had the feeling, like I did in most people houses, they could pack there stuff and be gone in thirty minutes if they had too.
“Hey, what about the video,” I said. “I am sorry, how did we forget?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
I continued, “Anyway, I am sure there is something good on HBO.”
We need something to drown out the sound of the traffic, I thought.
I waited ten minutes then reached into my bag. “So, I went to get some photos developed today. They are of my family just before I left. Would you like to see?” I asked.
“Please. I would like very much?” she replied.“Your mother is beautiful…Your father handsome - He looks like the movie star.”
“Don’t we all…So this is my sister and her daughter.”
“How old is she?”
“Five.”
“She looks so mature. Why are you foreigner children so mature?”
“I can assure you it is only a look….Well…that is them all.”
“Thank you very much. So nice,” she gushed.
I insisted she get out her family photos.
“Wow you have a nice family. I can see you are a good daughter,” I said.
“No, no.” But I saw a ripple of satisfaction go through her body.She picked up the cushion next to her, and covered her stomach. “I am tired,” she said, before closing her eyes.
Time already is it, I thought. I leaned over, took the pillow, and started to kiss her. For the next five minutes she said, I am tired, and brought the pillow back to her lap, while I took it away again. When the pillow stopped coming back, I started on the clothes. Slowly, she started to respond with reciprocal kisses and cuddles, but I wasn’t expecting her to rip off my shirt.
It was time for the underwear.“What are you doing?” she said, pulling back. “I am not that kind of girl.”
“I am sorry…I know you are a good girl and this is a big deal for you,” I said before going back to massaging and kissing.
I was actually really nervous at this stage and was prepared to give up – but I thought I better follow through with the advice and so started counting.…ten...nine..Wow, this time it is not too quick, I thought.
“Hmm, I think you don’t need that,” said Claire as I started to rip open a condom packet.
I then went through my standard speech. “I think I do…I’m sorry…How to explain. I know you don’t normally do this sort of thing. You are not a dirty girl. I am wearing it for another reason. It is kind of embarrassing: if I don’t wear it I will cum too quickly. I want you to enjoy more.”
Then she gave me a surprise: “It is okay I don’t need to enjoy so much,” she said.
I was stumped because the girls in the bar so far had liked the idea that I wanted to satisfy them. I had to think quickly to remember the rule: give them a reason to pass the buck to you.
“Sorry,” I said. “I know you are only interested in my sexual gratification and not your own. I mean it is for me you see: I don’t want to cum so quickly. You want to make your man happy don’t you?”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really. It is your fault you are too sexy.”
“Me! No!”
“Yes. Really. You are too sexy,” I repeated.“Hmm, I must accept then. I want you to enjoy. But I feel strange. Not natural – nobody have ever with me before.”
“That is why I am going to, love…Nothing.”
“Your welcome,” she replied.
“Hah, you are so strong,” cried Claire. “You cum so much.”
“There you go - Told you condoms are useful for something.”
“Maybe… but still strange - I only use the condom with you.”
“That is a pity - For your sake anyway…”
“I am sorry. I have to go. I have to get up early tomorrow morning to teach,” I said.
She looked upset so I tried to console her. “I am sorry again. I didn’t expect this to happen. The moment was special.”
“Yes, I know. Uh…me, neither. I don’t normally do this sort of thing.”
“Of course you don’t.”
I put on my clothes and instinctively checked my wallet for the name card for the hotel so I could get home. I gave her a good-bye kiss.
On his way out I saw her turn her phone back on and start checking for messages. She was great; they all were.
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