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I have never been interested in blonds," said Ted. I mean, I've tried it, sort of the way gay guys have gone out with women, just to see what it felt like. But it didn't work. Ted and I were sitting outside on unsteady green plastic chairs at a brew pub in North Beach. It was a freezing spring evening and gusts of fog were whipping up Columbus Street. He was here to talk about his penchant for Asian women -- a proclivity I'd started to notice in college among the frat boys, and as far as I could tell had pretty much evolved into an obsession for certain white guys.
I had two feelings about this. One was complete revulsion.
The other was relief, since the kind of men who went for Asian women were not men I wanted to have anything to do with, so good riddance if they recused themselves from my dating pool. Political correctness and dating have never mixed, but that doesn't keep people from trying to maintain appearances to the contrary. So far, I hadn't found a single man who would go on record for having an Asian fixation.
Ted was different. Our mutual friend Carol had told me to expect honesty, and I, in turn, was prepared to be confrontational with a guy I assumed would be an overfed, overgrown Delta Phi reject. But even before I met Ted, Carol had revealed a few things that had thrown me. Despite being a bona fide yuppie, with an annual six-figure income from his job as a financial consultant, Ted did not own a TV or a car. For entertainment, he shunned the opera and blockbuster movies, preferring instead fringe performance art and experimental dance, which he attended every weekend.
He was attracted to this alternative culture, Carol said, because he felt it was so far removed from his own life and experience growing up in Montana -- he couldn't believe people did those things onstage, like strip, scream, sing, whatever.
Afterward, if he was confused, he would approach the performers and politely but insistently ask them what the point of their show was. Over a pitcher of pale ale, I tried to size him up. He was about my height, with nicely pressed, Gap-type clothes and expensive wire-rim spectacles.
Occasionally, during our conversation, he would pull out a Chap-Stick and rub it thoughtfully over his lower lip. And he seemed to find it not in the least bit odd to chat with a strange woman about his sex life. Taking my cue from him, I said, "I, um, find this refreshing that you would talk to me openly. With no further preamble, he began. I really find American women overly aggressive, and I've had some bad experiences. On the second date she wanted to have sex.
I mean, I think that's just too fast, but she was pretty insistent. I went along with it, and it wasn't good at all. I couldn't maintain an erection. She did ask if everything was OK. I just told her I wasn't really into it that night.
I envisioned a blond naked woman, stretched out alongside Ted -- a woman who had probably taken his softie a lot more personally than she'd let on, and hadn't had "several good times," or at least as many as Ted seemed to think. I sighed. I suddenly remembered the black woman who confronted my blond friend Lisa and her black boyfriend on the streets of Berkeley. And then an army of short men popped in my head. We assume that guys who date Asians are looking for a little docile maid. If anything, it's me who's doing the serving. And they make all the decisions, like where to eat and what to do.
The ones recently immigrated will date either Western or Asian men, but the American-born tend to find Asian men too soft and effeminate. They want a stronger kind of man, so I think I'm sort of a compromise. Thank you. I remember being so excited by them. I don't like large breasts -- they're so sloppy or something. I wrote that down. He added, "You know, I can't speak for every guy, but for me it's a real personal interest in Asian culture as a whole --". I've spent a lot of time there, and I like the simplicity of their life, the family values -- because I don't have that in my own life.
My parents are together and all that, but we're not close. And I like the idea of having someone who's not like me, who's not another professional who works all the time, being a part of my life. You serve them. The physical is part of my attraction, the sexual is part of it, too. Ted smiled at him. We're having a conversation. Asian women: They don't have any sexual hang-ups. They'll do anything, and I think it's because their culture wasn't based in Christianity, with all the guilt and repercussions.
They tend to be more experienced sexually and anticipate what you want. I think that's the biggest misconception. On a day-to-day basis, I give in to whatever my girlfriend wants. How about hair? He pondered. They age way, way better than Western women. And of course the problem with large breasts, which Western women tend to have, is that they never stay firm.
I hesitated. Because they're smaller? I read over my notes. Despite myself, and all my preconceived notions of Ted, I had to admit I really admired him. He was completely, thoroughly and unapologetically honest, without meanness or guile. How many men would truly admit what they wanted from a woman, physically or otherwise? And he had a surprising gentleness that confounded me. I thought about him at the performance-art shows, patiently but doggedly grilling the actors on their creative choices. Small breasts. Tiny stature. Smooth skin. Ages well. I'll be right back. Sticky Header Night Mode.
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