by Annie Wang
She tells me about her theory in a hot-pot restaurant called the Imperial Mama. "Young men are like grapes and middle-aged men are like wine. Their bellies may grow bigger, and the number of hairs on their heads may become fewer, but they are more attractive; they make me feel intoxicated."
"Why is that?" I ask. I come from a different school of thought. As a woman who is reaching her thirties, I become more and more interested in younger men, the so-called boy toys.
"Middle-aged men tend to be more generous in bed than younger men, who often don't want to control their desires. Middle-aged men tend to be more successful financially. They can buy you expensive gifts, whereas young boys can only send you flowers or a box of chocolates. Since middle-aged men have been around, and they have more status and more networks, they can help you with your career. They also understand women and know very well how to please us." May May speaks as if she is giving a lecture at a university.
I say, "Well, what you say might explain why you love middle-aged men, but it doesn't explain why you always go out with the married ones."
May May laughs. "Don't you think that middle-aged M.B.A.s are a more desirable group than those who are still single?"
"That can be true in China." I nod.
May May continues with a smile. "Our parents' generation is the generation of obedience. I like to live on the edge. I like to sleep with married men because the thrill of stealing makes the sex even more exciting! It's so cool to do it in their own bedrooms during the day when their wives are at work."
"In the same bed that they share with their wives? Not a motel or something? Don't you think it's an intrusion into the wives' territory?" I ask.
"That's exactly the point. I am like an invader. Society encourages us to be competitive! I hate losing. It feels so good that these smart men are willing to betray their women and come to me. It's called charm."
"Do you think they like you because you're so irresistible?" I ask.
"Well, I'm a modern liberal woman. I can give them the level of passion that their wives can't. In return, I get the uninhibited, carnal sex that I want," May May says proudly.
I can sense that May May believes totally in her unconventional lifestyle and her ability to entice men into bed. She considers herself superior to the wives because she has the fun and none of the work relating to marriage.
"May May," I ask, "do you think that the M.B.A.s' attraction to you comes from the fact that you're a plaything for them and they don't have to be serious with you. That they are merely on the hunt for another good time, a cheap thrill that they can brag about to their buddies?"
May May replies with a sneer. "So what, it beats having a bowl of instant noodles and renting a movie while home alone by myself. If men can brag about their conquests, why can't I?"
Her speech echoes that of Colorful Clouds.
"May May, do you know Colorful Clouds?" I can't help asking.
"Yes. I know of her. Both of us publicize our sexual adventures on a Chinese blog. I've got far more hits than she has. Apparently, she's a bore. Her pictures are ugly too. I have the talent and charisma. Plus, I believe I'm younger."
Just then, a good-looking couple comes into view. May May notices and says to me, "I wonder what she sees in him? When I find out, I'll give you all the details." May May starts to preen and adjust her clothing. She is about to enter another playground.
81 A Good Life Needs to Be Told
There is a regular get-together of some of the nouveaux riches in Beijing. Often, the less rich – the reporters, models, and authors – are invited to party with them as their guests.
Just as Hollywood celebrities sometimes need groupies and paparazzi to create certain scenes, the new Chinese bourgeoisie need those who are not quite as rich to be their listeners. It is simply not good enough to enjoy the good life in private. A rich life has to be told and retold, and then gossiped about.
On a Tuesday evening, just a regular hot summer's day in Beijing, Beibei and I attend a party organized by these parvenus in a house that is located in a discreet and well-manicured suburban neighborhood.
When we arrive, some investment bankers have already gathered to discuss plans while sipping Jack Daniels. Their long-term goal is to retire at forty-five and their short-term goal is to improve their golf games. Everyone agrees that their approach shots and their putting techniques could be better.
Apparently, this is all standard talk in such gatherings of the newly rich, and part of the game. The thinking is that the good life needs to be told, especially to those who are have-nots. The hangers-on play their part too. Their envy and attentiveness are all part of the same game.
An interesting conversation between two female authors gets the attention of both Beibei and me.
One of them is called Andrea. "My English lover has a ranch in New Zealand. I love to do my writing there."
The other female author named Yani raises one eyebrow. "Really? Then, we're neighbors! I write from my beach house in Australia. If we have an attack of writer's block, we can fly over and meet for coffee."
An attentive female listener who looks a bit unsophisticated and naive like a college student exclaims, "Wow, you guys are real international freemen – no, free women! So cool! It's my first time to meet such people. I'm honored."
The two authors' faces radiate pleasure, the pleasure of being admired and envied. Yani smiles at the listener. "Well, I might be an international woman. But it doesn't matter where I go, I always like China the best."
"I know why she likes China the best: only China can guarantee her an audience when she brags." Beibei says under her breath to me.
As we walk around, we hear more hilarious lines popping up from the newly rich and famous. Some are quite creative and subtle:
"My life has been crazy! Breakfast in Hong Kong, lunch in Singapore, and dinner in Beijing!" "I only eat fresh vegetables from my own garden." "I walk nine holes every day." And so on. Always, there are listeners who show great admiration and envy.
I spot a friend whom I haven't seen for ages. Immediately he comes over to greet me. His name is Kevin Chen. Like many of my childhood friends, Kevin is one of the best and the brightest of the generation born after 1970. His path is also quite typical: he graduated from the People's University with a degree in international finance and then went to Stanford to get his M.B.A. He currently works for AIG.
"How's life?" Kevin greets me.
"Not bad. You?"
"The usual. You know – making friends in Beijing, doing business in New York, living in Shanghai, shopping in Hong Kong, vacationing in southern France and the Greek Islands," says Kevin nonchalantly.
Beibei murmurs to me, "This is the second time I've heard him say that."
"I bet you get a lot of frequent-flyer miles!" I say to Kevin.
Kevin nods. "Yes, but I really do hate flying. Of course, I hate eating lobster more." He punctuates this sentence with a laugh, obviously thrilled to enter the game again.
"Remember when we were young, you said in a class that your biggest dream was to fly someday," I remind Kevin.
"Really?" Kevin seems not to remember.
"Of course that was a long, long time ago, when China was still poor and you were still called Kai Wan," I say with an impish smile.
82 Turnoffs
When CC, Beibei, Lulu, and I get together, we are eager to get an update on CC's first date with the guy we call S. CC has been talking for months on the Internet with S. She thinks S is attractive and intelligent, perhaps the right person for her.
"So what's the news with S?" As usual, the impatient Beibei starts probing.
"Well, we finally met, but it lasted only fifteen minutes," CC says with disappointment.
"Was he the same guy as in his photos? Or was he much older? Did he turn out to be ugly? Was he way shorter than you expected? Did he have as much hair on his head as he did in the photos?" I shower CC with questions.
"Yes, no, no, no, and n
o." CC shakes her head.
"Did he have yellow teeth that aren't shown in his pictures?" Lulu continues the inquisition.
"No. His teeth are like the model's teeth in a Crest ad."
"Did he say something rude to offend you?" I guess.
"No."
"Was he too aggressive? You know, fast with his hands? Did he try to take advantage of you?" I ask, wondering what could have been wrong with this man.
"Well, what happened? Fill us in," Beibei says eagerly.
"He passed wind ten minutes after we sat down. I know how to do it myself. I don't really need him to demonstrate it in front of me. So I left."
"I can't believe this guy was so rude. He should try at least to hold it in on the first date," I say.
"That's exactly what I thought. Everybody tries to look and act his best on the first date with someone he likes. If S didn't give a thought about passing wind on our first date, he really didn't care about what I thought of him," says CC.
"But I remember you told us that he's very educated and intelligent. I don't understand why he could be so lacking in manners at the same time," I say.
"I've had a similar experience," Beibei jumps in. "Once I had a date. The guy was humorous and funny, but the whole time he was telling the jokes, he had spinach in his teeth. He was making fun of others, but he looked funny himself. The image was so ironic that I had no choice but to leave him."
"What's wrong with you guys? What if some man just leaves you on the first date because you happen to have a lipstick stain on your teeth when you eat," says Lulu, who is apparently sympathetic to S.
"I grew up in England, and I'd never be that sloppy!" CC rebuffs.
"Don't be so arrogant, CC. Everyone makes mistakes. I just think nowadays people have more choices and less time. We become less tolerant and more impatient! That's why relationships become so shallow. A small thing can kill a person's chances, just like that! A person might have a lot to offer, and we won't get to know it because of one event or mistake." Lulu protests.
"The fact is that small things really annoy us. Things like bad breath, nose picking, body odor, continual belching, and dirty socks can really turn us off," says CC, getting visibly annoyed.
"But you've got to give others a second chance!" Lulu begs.
CC speaks. "I indeed gave S a second chance. The first time he passed gas was right after he told me that he had a Ph.D. from Duke University. I tried to ignore the sound and appeared to be impressed by his education. The second time he did it was when I asked him what brand of cologne he was wearing. He told me that it was Calvin Klein's Obsession. But believe me, I smelled something else. I told him that I had to make a quick phone call. As I left, I passed the waiter bringing the salads to the table. What a shame. The spinach salad looked great."
83 Sampling the Menu
For Beibei and her husband Hua, adultery is not a good word. They call their union an open marriage. Married with extramarital affairs is the most apt description of their lifestyle. Both Beibei and Hua belong to the growing group who claim that they are too lazy to get a divorce.
"What's the point," says Hua.
"Men are all the same," claims Beibei, echoing the familiar mantra of women with unfaithful husbands.
Not surprisingly, Beibei doesn't believe in fidelity within marriage anymore, and she is not alone. A rising population of young white-collar Chinese embrace the idea of the one-nite stand. Traditional Confucian moral values that the Chinese have clung to for thousands of years have simply lost their validity and make little sense in this world of instant gratification. If you see something you like, go for it. This is the new dogma.
According to a recent survey, 37 percent of all one-night stands take place between partners who meet on the Internet. Beibei doesn't like the uncertainty of the information superhighway. She sticks with the traditional way, picking up guys or waiting for guys to pick her up in bars, at dance clubs, or even on the street. This way she won't be surprised or disappointed on the initial meeting.
Beibei tells Lulu and me about her most recent rendezvous with men on the street. "It's so easy. Sometimes I just wear some makeup and revealing clothes. As I walk on the street, men come to me and ask me if I'd be interested in being their girlfriend for a day or two. It's all upfront – there's no need to wonder if he will call you the next day."
Beibei is daring, but she also sets a rule for herself: no repetitions – one time and she's done. For her, the most embarrassing moment is to meet her playmate again in the same bar they first met. Normally, she pretends that she doesn't know the man and looks for new faces to talk to.
One night, Beibei brings Lulu and me to a place called The Bananas. As we order some cocktails, Beibei spots Luyi, her passionate fling from just yesterday. As usual, she ignores his existence. But Luyi walks toward her. Beibei starts to complain, "That guy that is walking toward us was with me last night. It looks like he wants to bother me again. Let's get out."
Before we can make our move, Luyi makes a turn toward the girl who sits alone not far away from us. He moves through the crowded and dimly lit bar as if he was wired into some ultrasensory neural network to locate an available and accommodating miss. But his neurons may have misfired, as the young woman waves him off with hardly a glance.
So he walks toward Beibei. Beibei confronts him first, "Sorry, I won't have the same item on the menu on consecutive nights."
"I was going to say hello to your lovely friends to see if they have some free time tonight," Luyi says politely.
"Why not that young woman over there?" Beibei points to the woman that has already rejected him. As he turns to see who she is pointing to, Beibei, Lulu, and I vanish from his sight – just like signing off in an Internet chat room, one click and we're gone!
84 Higher Age, Lower Value
Baobao, Beibei's sister in Texas, is coming back to Beijing on a business trip. She is on her way to her company's Beijing office on Ritan Road. It was opened a year ago and currently has seventy employees.
In the red cab, the taxi driver talks to her nonstop as if she was his old pal. "In the old days I was driven by a chauffeur. Now I have to be a driver myself to make ends meet. The older I get, the less useful I become. Shame on me! I was laid off a year ago when our work unit was in the process of youhua zuhe, optimization. I was a chuzhang, a department chief. In other cities, I would be a big deal. But a chuzhangis nobody here. I guess you've heard of the popular saying: 'Only in Beijing will you know your rank is low, only in Guangdong will you know your pay is low, and only in Hainan will you know that your energy level is low.' "
"Oh, yeah?" Baobao laughs out loud. It seems that every Beijing cab driver knows how to be Jay Leno. Although the car engine makes weird annoying noises and the air conditioning is broken, Baobao doesn't regret not taking the more expensive Citroen cab: this driver is funny.
"I was laid off 'cause I was over forty, too old to be a chuzhang" the driver continues in his slippery Beijing accent. "My replacement is only thirty-two. After staying at home for eight months, I decided to be a cab driver, since I needed bucks to send my kid to college. I tell ya, the adjustment isn't easy. I have to swallow all kinds of shit. Just a while ago, a kid got upset when I honestly told him I was new and didn't know the roads well. He left the car immediately. I heard him calling me an old idiot after he got out. He's younger than my son," the man exclaims, almost in disbelief.
"He was rude!" Baobao shakes her head.
"Nowadays, kids become so bad-mannered – I was better off as a Red Guard," the driver comments as Baobao pays him. Nicholas Tse's "Everybody Is Stupid" plays loudly on the car radio.
Baobao walks toward the building, and Big Chen, the office manager, greets her outside the door. As they walk in, she sees lines of model-type young women sitting and standing along the hallways.
"Why are there so many girls here? It looks like a beauty pageant," Baobao says to Big Chen.
"We're conducting interview
s for administrative jobs today," Big Chen replies, giving Baobao a stack of resumes. To her surprise, on each resume, next to the applicant's name, is her age, and they are all between twenty-one and twenty-five.
"What are their requirements?" asks Baobao.
"Female, twenty-one to twenty-five, pleasant-looking, college graduate, good phone manners, Chinese and English typing skills, college English six plus," Big Chen recites.
"We can't do this. American companies won't tolerate ageism," Baobao warns Big Chen.
"We aren't just an American company. We're an American company with Chinese characteristics," Big Chen corrects Baobao. " China has too many people. We need to find the most qualified people in the shortest amount of time. It's what we call efficiency."
"But what about women over twenty-five?"
Big Chen chuckles, making Baobao feel like he was telling her, "You are over the hill."
" China changes at an incredible rate, much faster than the United States. Five years here is like ten in the States. It's already another generation, with new knowledge that is lost on their elders. There are a lot of limitations to older people. They can't keep up with the Internet age, their English is poor…" Big Chen explains.
"You can't make such generalizations. A Chinese man just won the U.S. national book award for writing in English. He's over forty."
"But he is in the States, not in China," Big Chen says, shrugging.
If age and beauty play such an important role in job seeking, what about finding a boyfriend? What are the fates of women who are neither young nor attractive? Looking at those starry-eyed young women, Baobao says good-bye to Big Chen and wishes him good luck.
She strides into the street, thinking, "What on earth are the Chinese thinking these days?" She enters a bookstore out of curiosity. On the new releases table, she sees several titles: I Say No to My Parents by Cold Mountain, age fourteen; Young and Wild by Chuchu, age eleven; and My Problems with Boys by Nuzi, age seven. Baobao can't help but laugh; there is a market for books by little rebels.
