Undead Astronauts

“Love thyself last” – William Shakespeare

There’s a particular liberal dream for the future in which racial discord will disappear due to interracial relations. Every race, so the dream goes, will inevitably mix with every other race, and in so doing, skin color (among other attributes) will blend and everyone will live in perpetual unity. Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration… but only a bit.

Do any racial groups actually follow Shakespeare’s advice and love themselves last? OkTrends puts this dream to the test. In a hypothetical world where all racial populations are the same in number, what would dating patterns look like? Would there be a “winner” or would things even out? The result may surprise you as they surprised me.

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filial chinese are posting wanted ads for rental boyfriends to take home to mom and dad. flarezz, u should look into this.

Her criteria for eligible bachelors were fairly demanding. They should be educated, employed, well-behaved and between 170 and 180 centimeters, or 5 feet 7 inches to 5 feet 9 inches, tall. Glasses — a sign of erudition to her father — a plus. One other thing: “Don’t be too skinny.”

The successful applicant would earn 5,000 renminbi, or $735, for the 10-day home stay during the Lunar New Year holiday, also known here as Spring Festival. Lest candidates get the wrong idea, the woman also wrote: “We will not sleep together.”

i’m sure u could negotiate that last stipulation.

Speed Dating

Last saturday I went to a speed dating event with Manuelo and another female friend who was Dutch Chinese from Holland (“dc girl”). The event rules stipulate that you have 8 minutes to talk to a girl, after 8 minutes, you rotate to the next girl. from 7:30 to 10, you should be able to talk to about 20 girls. I got there at around 7 and met my dc girl to first have a light drink while waiting for Manuelo to show up… (more…)

It is on the mornings of great love and great loss in which I rise with the most passion for life. I love you Helena, I love you so much that you are the first thing in my mind in those moments before I first gain consciousness. You stand there, pointing to that stitched cartoon soldier on your favorite pink shirt, and you say “他是我的小兵“. Slowly light would filter in and you would fade away…

But during those moments. I grasp towards you desperately, clawing and straining to reach you. The light behind me, growing ever stronger, pushes you away. You and your little guardian, perched over your heart, recede into the remaining darkness. I yell and cry for you, but the light envelops me, and the light is so loud and bright, more persistent than all my protests. I am drowning my dear Helena. I can’t breath.

I only have one urgent thought in my mind,  to trade places with that 小兵. I want to be your guardian, protecting you, keeping warm your heart. If I could only give away everything, I would. This mind, this consciousness, I will trade it all to push back this terrible light. Then I can rest with you, close to your bosom. And you can point to me, and you can whisper softly in my ear, “你永远是我的小兵“.

It is on the mornings of great love and great loss in which I rise with the most clarity.

Last night I went to a bar called Sasha with several friends. There I met this girl who worked as an analyst for Wexford, a hedge fund in New York. She was visiting Shanghai only for a week and was originally born here like me. We had an instant connection.  She was a very passionate and intelligent girl. And from the moment we met to the time the gathering dissipated, we talked non stop.

Our topic? the quarter-life crisis. The reference was originally derived from a mid-life crisis, but I believe that times have changed for many of us. There is no mid, there is no quarter, personally, the questioning of purpose and life began as early as middle school.  And if I am correct, will go on til the end of my days. There is no quarter-life crisis, there is no mid-life crisis, there is only crisis. Or better yet, there is only the constant struggle to understand what can not be understood. That’s life.

It was interesting to find that so many more people are beginning to feel the dissonance. As one person began to confess, so too did many others join in. One by one the room fell like dominoes.

The typical Shanghainese weekend for an expat generally concludes inside a quiet coffee shop. Sitting across from you is most likely a stranger you met Friday or Saturday night. Because you probably first met this drifter in a very loud and dimly lit environment such as the local club Muse, this second meeting, over coffee, is really the first opportunity to listen to and observe this stranger.

You probably came to this meeting with excitement and enthusiasm, hoping to meet someone you can really connect with. But you also realize that your track record hasn’t been very good ever since you moved to this city. New relationships form quickly and easily here, especially for an expat. Whether they are locals and foreigners, people want to meet you and connect to you. Bonds are created in the first night, and just as often, broken after the second.

Too many people to meet, too many opportunities to pursue.

So here you sit, sipping another over-priced coffee, smiling, and looking upon her unfamiliar face. You reproduce your life story for this stranger, and are once again, totally and unwittingly, absorbed into the culture of the city around you.