So the evening with Clarissa had come to a slightly moody end. But she was so sexy and unusual with it that I could not forget her. Blocking her instant messenger profile was just the spiteful, childish reaction of a man thwarted in his desires. And when I woke the next morning those desires were again strong and urgent in me; and so of course she did not stay blocked. She was just too fascinating, too diverting. Now, in a city of so many beauties as
Morning also brought with it the clear realization hat I had been a little sulky to her in the cab. She was the one who had it all to lose, so she was the one who should call the shots. It seemed to me then that she was calling them that night too, sounding me out, sizing me up.
When she’d told me of the lover she had, older, married, rich, she’d also said that one of the problems with a lover was they always wanted more…more demands, more love, eventually marriage. So it seemed to me what was on her mind when she said that was finding out if I could be discreet, subtle. In the cab I wasn’t.
And thus when I did log on and saw she was on, too, I paused a while, not wanting to bombard her straight away. But she buzzed me first, albeit with no more than a ‘You’re late today’ (late getting up, she meant). I replied with how much fun I had had with her, and she said the same; and that was that, then she was gone.
In looking through my diary to chart the course of my relationship with Clarissa, I see that this night I had a class in which one woman in particular caught my eye. Now of course that happens all the time, but this woman has since become an important part of my life and, indeed, on a recent trip to the city in which she now studies, she became my lover.
She was cute, tallish, a sexy dresser in that discreet yet revealing way some women have… A polite style of dressing, a little reserved, because that is the way the bulk of Chinese guys (and thus Chinese society) demand it; but also with hints and whispers of sexuality, of the truer self just below that exterior, hints that most guys do not even see but that I seldom miss.
Or maybe that’s trying to dress up bullshit as a compliment, since what I really mean is the lines of her bra, white, a little bit of lace, which I could see as I stood over her talking to her, covering her breasts, where what did the trick.
This being university, I kept myself formal, teacherly, and tried not to hit on her too bad. But I could not resist teasing her when she told me her English name.
Being outside Western culture, a name is just a name to a Chinese student – why should it be anything else? And so quite often I meet young women who have chosen names such as ‘Enid,’ ‘Ethel,’ ‘
And so usually I accept, saying I will think of something and tell her at the end of the course when I have a better idea of her personality. Naturally, if she is cute, I will say at the end of the class ‘I should get to know you better before choosing a name…. Let’s meet for coffee.’
Chinese names, of course, also have this component. Thus, someone born in the insanity of the Cultural Revolution might well have the character ‘red’ as part of their name, or some other boastful exhortation as to how fine and dandy China is. Someone born at an earlier period might be called `Build
As for the Cultural Revolution, for those not in the know, it was a decade of the vilest insanity when maniac Mao Zedong did his best to destroy the country even more than he had already fucked it up already, even more than the crackpot lunacies of all his other schemes, his Great Leap Forward, his Four Pests campaign, his Hundred Flowers, his disastrous Korean war, his murders, poisonings and purges, and all the other filth that spewed from his peasant mind. He did nothing good, kind or decent in his whole life. He was pure scum. He was filth. I shit on him.
But enough of this; I have already vented spleen on the topic below. Taking a leaf from the fat psychopath’s own book, I will get back to women. Women, say the biographies (well… not the ones available in China, of course) were a central focus of his life, as he liked to stack up 3 or 4 in bed at the same time, and often adolescent ones. Now since as well as being a fat lunatic he was also a fat lunatic with absolute power, he could simply order any woman to bed, and made great use of the privilege. I have to work a bit harder to get my women, and thus I gave the tried and trusted ‘I can give you more advice if you get in touch by email,’ line to this student (who was at that time called Ethel, but is now called something more suitable, a name I chose); and she did get in touch and we became friends and then lovers.
But we did not become lovers until a year or so after we’d first met. The reason for this was not because she was unavailable, but rather because I knew if we became lovers it would be a big deal for her. I knew my feckless ways would hurt her, for she would want my love and commitment. And so I forbore, all the time she was in
Whispers of it, hints, were always there. I recall in particular kissing her goodbye outside the 太平洋 one time, after we’d met for coffee, how I read her eyes, saw the readiness, how she offered me her lips, not her cheek. Right then, as I kissed her lips, I knew I could take her to bed with just a little more wooing. And, sure, she was attractive, intelligent, all the things I like. But knowing what a big deal it would be for her, that was a path I did not take.
Not until I met her in another city – and there, under its different skies, we became lovers. And, now, as I knew would happen all along, she is half in love with me, sending wistful emails, reaching out for a love that I do not return.