Love Behind the Forbidden City

On Sunday afternoons one can find swarms of tourists in central Beijing with their fancy cameras, elbowing each other out of the way for one of the cities most famous shots: The Forbidden City Reflected.

Across the Forbidden City's moat in Zhongshan Park there is a lesser known swarm of eager, elbowing bidders. Hundreds of parents mill about swapping photographs and details of their marriageable sons and daughters: Sunday's market of arranged marriages!

Hundreds of photocopied sheets change hands, detailing everything from age to education, star sign to expectations. There are even the extra pushy mothers who instruct other hopefuls that they shouldn't come without being well equipped with up-to-date portraits of the prospective brides and grooms!

If I'm unable to hook myself a husband by age 35, I know where I'm sending my mother!

the second flow plan

Generally speaking, dating in Taipei is in serious slow motion – and it’s the longest road you could possibly imagine to establish a long-term relationship. The flow plan goes something like this: introduced by friends – 6 to 12 months of courtship called friendship – relationship founded – another 6 to 12 months of kissing – copulation (maybe) – marriage. An alternative route is: high school classmates – long-standing friendship for 2 to 5 years – relationship founded – kissing, copulation – marriage. THE SECOND FLOW PLAN is a romantic story I have seen in action – a friend of mine (who is now 23), has just started dating a boy who was on the same cheerleading squad as her in high school!

So ladies, if you want to date in Taipei, forget about giving smutty, sex looks in nightclubs – they definitely don’t lead to love, and for all the attention they are given, you might as well fuck the wall. Nevertheless, if you don’t have a spare twelve years to invest in one of the flow plans sex is readily available - bear in mind all men get hard-ons. And, more often than not, Chinese boys are too polite (or scared) to say no – even if they really want to. To this day I ascertain, and I am not an innocent, that there are many terrified Chinese boys accosted in foreign pads. I have even seen one teary specimen in the stairwell outside my apartment, after being man-handled by one of my roomies.

The greatest slow-motion dating conundrum though, has to be the six month stretches between phone calls. Lengthy breaks between messages (with no mention of time passed), is not only a recurring pattern, but integral to the dating scene. I once went out with a tall, stylish, Louis Vuitton sales assistant, only to get a text from him eight months later which said: this is austin, do u remember me? merry xmas. On this point about dating Chinese men, I may remain permanently in the dark - some behaviour is truly confounding, and not even I can construct a convincing explanation.

As a result, my cell phone is frequented by sporadic calls from Zhi-Wei, Huang-Wei, Wei-Zhen, Wei-Zhang, Wei-Chang and Wei-Ming, of whom I haven’t the foggiest ability to discern. My closest Taiwanese confidante told me: “Chinese boys are shy and probably wait for you to call; they just plan their next move” … for six months?? Apparently I have the problem, and this is a-ok – its all just part of dating in Taipei. So, in true Taiwanese style I sent an SMS to One-Way last night, (after all it has been five months since he last texted) – he was of course thrilled to hear from me!
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skewered chicken hearts

My first Chinese date was with a break-dancing, bisexual bartender covered in self-drawn ghoulish tattoos (One-Way), two of his friends, a translator, and many “delicious” night-market snacks. By delicious I am referring to the congealed duck blood and rice cakes, and SKEWERED CHICKEN HEARTS. The first lovely snack was a slimy oyster-filled broth, which despite a lifetime of chopstick practice, I failed dismally to eat. This confirmed the suspicion that a fork should be carried at all times when taking foreigners to eat in public. I can’t say what brought about my serious failings - it may have been my fear of the snacks, the pressure of having to eat first, or being watched so intently, but either way my ancestors hung their heads in shame. Apparently being half Chinese means you can only do half things, so I told my ancestors “I can successfully eat with one chopstick,” but they just ignored me.

Despite the shaky beginning, One-Way and I dated for three months after the night market. We spoke in Chinese (I didn’t understand him because I don’t understand Chinese, and he didn’t understand me because I don’t make sense in Chinese); he made me free cocktails at the bar, and I in turn slapped him on the ass; and we shared a love of game arcades, or so he believed. We learnt about each other slowly, and sometimes by accident - like the time I found out he was afraid of heights on the roof of my 15-story apartment building. Eventually it had to come to an end, but in retrospect, the best thing about One-Way though was he always had ‘plenty of time.’ Despite working a 7 day week, he got off at 3am – a great time to call and wander the streets of Taipei, even on weekdays. Oh, the Taiwanese!
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