On the second week of my vacation in Missouri, I meet a twenty-something boynamed Tom at a party. Tom works as a guard in a federal prison, but he is very smart and talented. He writes crime stories in his spare time. He also believes in Buddhism. The best part about Tom is that he respects women. Every so often, he will cook for me; preparing his own recipes for corn bread and smoked tuna. I love spending time with Tom. We ride horses, play golf, go shooting and fishing together. The dating life is idyllic.
Tom and I often joke that if we had depended on a computer dating service, we'd never have been matched because we are completely different species. Check out our dating bios.
Tom's thumbnail sketch would read: Country boy, Southern Baptist, 6'5", 225 pounds, conservative, Republican, and an ex-army ranger. Voted for George W. Bush; very much in favor of the Iraq war; hates the United Nations and the French; loves the quiet country life, professional wrestling, boxing, and car racing; disapproves of homosexuality and abortion.
And mine: Megacity girl, Asian, 5'2", 110 pounds, liberal, Democrat, and a cosmopolitan journalist. Plans to vote for Hillary Clinton once she runs for president; very much against American invasion in Iraq: believes that the UN Security Council should be used to balance the hawks; enjoys the busy city life of Beijing, Shanghai, New York, and Hong Kong; watches Ally McBeal and Oprah; has gay friends and girlfriends who have had abortions; does not understand professional wrestling in any way, shape, or form.
From political views to occupations, Tom and I share nothing in common. I have never dreamed that I would date a jailer who watches stupid professional wrestling. Normally, on my chart, rednecks barely beat out Neanderthals, and this is the last type of person I like to associate with. But somehow, Tom has been the best date I have ever had. He's a teddy bear – sensitive, attentive, loyal, and protective. He always teaches me things that I don't know, from how to putt to how to bait a hook. Another big plus, he is great in bed. It has been over a year since I have been intimate with anyone, and it's reassuring to find out that there is nothing wrong with me. After being with Tom I can't believe there was actually a time when I had no appetite for sex! I think perhaps I should write to Match-makers.com and tell them that opposites attract. But my girlfriends back in China are all astounded that I am dating a prison guard.
Both Beibei and Lulu call me.
"It's a big loss of face if you come back with a man who works in the prison," Beibei says.
It still saddens me that in China – the "People's Republic" – there is still such an obsession with social class. In the United States, it's so much easier to mingle and socialize with people who would be considered beneath me in the East. But what can I do? I'm a Chinese woman with Chinese parents and Chinese friends. How can I lead a great life without their approval?
Lulu says, "Fishing? Making bread? It sounds so boring. The American suburban life is not for us."
"But Tom is so nice," I say.
"But he is not one of us," Beibei comments. "He's not a yuppie, nor is he international enough for you."
"But Tom is a man of integrity and honor. I've met too many international yuppie jerks from San Francisco to Beijing." I sigh, as the thought of Len once again creeps into my head. My time in the States has made me think of him more often. That's why I have decided not to return to Berkeley this time.
"Now you know why we are still single," Lulu speaks. "We love our lifestyle better than we love love."