This is a Rant—You’ve Been Forewarned

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When I first came to Shanghai, I thought this city had it all. Every cuisine, every culture, every crazy idea you could think of. You want to roller skate wearing an outfit not even the 80s would deem fashionable, all the while drinking from an open bar? You want to attend a rooftop party above an art gallery that showcases a car crashing in to a balloon wall? You want to shake your groove thing in a former bomb shelter? You want to pay less than $0.75 for soup and meat wrapped up in tiny wontons so good that your tastebuds will be jealous of your throat when you swallow? You want to hop a fence at 4 a.m. in to an expat compound where CEOs of Fortune 500 companies live, just so you can swim in their lazy river pool? Well, I’ve actually done all of those things in the past 10 days. Why then, why, am I ranting about Shanghai? So glad you asked. I’ll tell you why! This city does not have it all. It is missing one crucial, fundamental, essential ingredient. Men. It’s a dating wasteland.

Now you must be thinking, “Bai Ni! There are 12 million people in Shanghai, not including migrant workers. Of those 12 million people, a good 6 million ought to be men!” Too right you are. Let me rephrase. There are no expat men to speak of. I rule out Chinese men on the basis that my strong (to put it mildly) personality would be too much of a cultural obstacle for them to overcome.

When I decided to go to American University, I was not phased by the fact the school was 65% female, and half of the remaining 35% were gay. Well, technically, I was blithely unaware of this fact, but had I known, I am sure it would not have deterred me… I think. And during welcome week, when I became crudely aware of the rudely unfair proportionality (and as the subsequent four years unfolded and an increasing number of my straight friends tumbled out of closets), I was told that if I found a boy who wasn’t gay, weird or already taken, I should grab hold and never let go. And I did, for a bit. But that didn’t turn out…

Well, in China, the proportion of gay men is not so high. In fact, it’s sadly low, especially considering the affinity I developed for being a fruitfly while at AU. My central thesis here is that there are indeed Westerners in China, but they are not the men you find in America. They are, hands down, the worst breed of man there is. A group of our male friends was recently lamenting the loss of one of their best specimens to my group of female friends the other day. They said, “I don’t know how we’re going to replace him. You girls just don’t know how hard it is to find normal, Western guys in this city!” Oh, trust us. We do. We’ve met all the crazies. We’ve seen all the pieces of work. And we know they fall in to two main categories:

Sufferers of Yellow Fever – Shockingly, these make up the majority of ex-pats in Shanghai. If you have ever met someone who has succumbed to Yellow Fever in the United States, they can be identified in one of two ways: 1) They only date women whose bodies resemble small boys or 2) Have no social skills and are on the whole quasi-mutant looking. The first can appear normal in all respects, until you see the Pocky they carry in their back pocket for their girlfriends. The second would never ever be able to get laid in their home country, but have a bevy of attention seekers in China. Don’t be fooled. Those women are looking for visas, not your probably-inappropriately-nicknamed junk. 
Where to find sufferers of yellow fever: Everywhere. Next to you at the restaurant making out with their girlfriend who looks like she’s 12 (especially when she’s decked out in Hello Kitty). Walking down the street holding hands. Lurking in Chinese restaurants, staring at the waitresses. Grabbing my poor American- and Canadian-born Chinese friends in bars. They.Are.Everywhere.

Married But Availables  (a.k.a. MBAs) – The typical MBA is the businessman who splits his time between his home with his wife and China with, well, other women. They are the frequenters of massage parlors. The ones who might brag to you about the 2-for-1special they got in Thailand. And no, they don’t mean happy hour… Well, actually, I guess it was a very happy hour. They aren’t even shameful enough to take off their wedding ring half the time. But I can almost guarantee you that the ones who do take off their wedding rings suffer from a lethal dose of Yellow Fever with an infection of MBA. With no wedding ring, they can trick the seekers of a visa in to sleeping with them and get off scot-free—no hand-dirtying with lies and faux proposals of marriage.
Where to find MBAs: If you really want to, you can find a supreme breed of MBAs at Malone’s, a bar whose only redeemable quality is its pool table, where they meet their favorite type of women: prostitutes. During my first weeks in Shanghai and before I knew any better, I went there only to have a 70-year-old Australian man say to me, “Hi, I’m married, but it’s ok.” Um, no, Father Time. That is not ok.

While these two categories make up about 75% of expat men in Shanghai, there are several other smaller categories including: Money-Grubbing Whores, Pudong Dwellers, Tools, Creepers, Fakers, and Friend Circle Men.

Money-Grubbing Whores – Men so obsessed with capitalizing on the growing wealth of China a date feels like Econ 101.
Pudong Dwellers – It’s across the river in the middle of nowhere. It’s worse than a long-distance relationship. You two will have little to nothing in common. Seriously, Proud Mary, roll on down the river.
Tools – aka Frat Boys. Today, I had three frat boys yell “Ni haooooooooooooooo!!” at me as I walked past them. And by walked past, I mean quite literally we were shoulder to shoulder. First of all, Ow, my eardrums. Second of all, I AM BLONDE! Third of all, We are not 12. Come.On.
Creepers – Normal enough until they hook you, then they give new meaning to the words “Peeping Tom.”
Fakers – They learn enough about a certain topic to sound intelligent and interesting. Dig a little deeper and I guarantee they’re dumb and boring.
Friend Circle Men – Now, this is not the man’s fault persay, but it still sucks. In Shanghai, you move in and out of circles of friends and generally you can find some very nice, very smart, very interesting men in these circles (pre-vetted by fellow expat women, thank you), but unfortunately if you find these men nice, smart and interesting, you’ll probably weasel your way in to that friend circle. And dating someone within the friend circle throws off the whole dynamic and ruins the friend circle. Basically, it’s like standing knee-deep in a river and dying of thirst.

For the record, I do know a handful of nice, attractive, smart men outside my main friends circles. But I usually like their expat girlfriends or wives (or occasionally Chinese girlfriends and wives, who are self-assured amazing women who don’t need an expat man, but just happened to fall in love with one). Or I dated them already. Or I have to see them at work every day.

It’s slim pickings. Thank god for the copious amounts of fake DVDs here to live vicariously through. I now own a collection of romantic comedies that would make a sorority girl jealous.

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Tags: Dating, Expats, Men