Breaking Up is Hard to Do

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You know how you bitch to your friends about your significant others? You tell them all his little faults, the things he does to piss you off. Like the time he said he had to go poop in front of all of your friends the first time he met them. Or the time he said, “Aww, honey, it’s ok. You’re really just not funny.” Or how he came over to your house right after cheating on you, and you could actually smell it on him (and I ain’t talking about her perfume). These are the stories you regale your girl (and gay) friends with when they tell you that he’s not good enough for you, why do you stay with him, you could do better, etc, ad nauseum.

Yeah, you know the drill. You bitch about them, but at the same time, you reject all of your friend’s advice because they weren’t there for the good times. They didn’t see that time he handmade a dozen roses and broke into your bedroom on Valentine’s Day so the origami bouquet would be there when you got home from school. Your friends didn’t witness that time he pretended to be your husband and argued with the phone company for an hour to have them take $200 off your bill. They weren’t the ones following your drunken ass around at 2 a.m. while you threw trash cans into the street in front of cops and finally got you to go to bed.

[Did I mention I borrowed most of these examples?]

Well, I may not have a living, breathing significant other, but I do have a volatile love affair with Shanghai. And my friends, god bless ‘em, get an earful of complaints on a regular basis. Like last week, when the beer I bought was covered in chicken blood (which I didn’t notice until I had already put it in the pocket of my white coat).

Sometimes, the little things just build and build and you don’t even know your relationship is about to end, when BAM! along comes one doozy of a fight and the next thing you know, you’re packing your bags and slamming your door on the way out. My year and a half long affair with Shanghai came to an abrupt, unexpected and bitter end about two weeks ago. My friends from home tried to come to the rescue, pointing out all the things I hated about the city anyway. No vacation time. The place in China where Chinese comes to die. The inability to get a single, good dirty martini in over a year. Friends automatically blurted out the obligatory, “Move back!” when I told them about our blow-out.

But I couldn’t listen to their advice. How could I just relapse with my ex, America? Shanghai gave me everything America gave me, and then some. My friends hadn’t seen the good times. Around my birthday, Shanghai surprised me with my $1.25/hour maid and I haven’t washed a dish since. Not only that, but when my back gets tense, Shanghai gives me $8/hour back massages. America would charge me at least $60. Besides, where could I find a job in this current economic situation? At least Shanghai always supported me!

With my logic (questionably) sound, I decided that running back to America’s outspread arms wasn’t even in the cards. America and I had grown so far apart that I just didn’t see how we could make it work anymore. Could I leave Shanghai? Sure, we’d had a rough patch, but looking back on what we’d had over the past year and a half, I wondered, “Could I really throw that away? Did greener pastures exist where I could study Chinese and relax and live for less than $600/month?” Beijing? Too smoggy, cold and spread out. Kunming? Too far from civilization. Xiamen? Well, it does have the most beautiful college campus in China, as it’s conveniently located directly across the street from a beach. Not to mention the pedestrian island, with houses built by 1920s European diplomats/opium war profiteers. And it’s one of the top 10 schools in China. You say they’ve outlawed car horns in this sleepy, scenic beach town? SOLD!

So, my friends, I did it. I broke up with Shanghai. While we’re still together at the moment, sifting through stuff we acquired over the past year and a half, deciding who gets the George Foreman grill and the coffee maker, we will indeed part company, appropriately enough, on Valentine’s Day. I will head off to start my new life with Xiamen. He really shares some of my favorite Shanghai characteristics, but he’s more low maintenance, less pretentious and a lot more easy-going than Shanghai ever was. And if I play my cards right and really let myself go on Xiamen’s beach, my legs might not be “so white they are purple” when summer rolls around.

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Filed under Shanghai, Xiamen

Tags: Moving, Shanghai, Xiamen