So last night I went to a bar. This bar is a high-end Shanghai type bar, with 90 kuai overblown “fusion” cocktails with lots of passion fruit and sugar cubes set on fire. And a lot of foreigners. Asian women come for the western guys. This is not the first choice for Asian men, and I usually end up spending the night with my friends.
But, across the bar I noticed a table full of young guys. Just guys. Asian. And they were rowdy, and dancing, and seemed not at all the normal, quiet types.
I watched them for awhile, across the room, and liked their vibe. Dancing openly, arms up. Chatting animated and looking around the room, on the prowl.
But I knew, as a foreign woman, they wouldn’t approach me. Luckily, next to this table of guys I saw a girl I had met one time, several months ago. I walked by as if I had somewhere else to go and pretended to suddenly see her.
“Hey! Remember me?!” I asked.
“Yeah!” she said excited throwing her arms around me. She was super drunk. Great. Musics pumping and we kinda dance as we yell into each others ears. I smile at her friends, dance with them. One of them hands me a drink. I’m in.
Slowly, I maneuver my way around the table so my back is next to these guys and I “accidentally” bump/dance into them. This gets one guys attention and he turns around to us and dances with us. Me and my new group of friends laugh, dance with him, we all raise our glasses and cheer. This one guy, the dancer, is my in but I got my eye on another one. As I’m lifting my glass to ‘cheer’ the dancer, I tap his friend on the shoulder, with my glass raised. I kinda look at him, tip my glass slightly in his direction with a smile.
He gets it. Comes over. “I’m Japanese!” he says with a handshake. Japanese! Turns out the whole table was. Score. I’ve never slept with a Japanese.
We chat, we dance. His friend, also cute, smiles. We dance, chat, drink. I leave behind the table with my in-between friends and I haven’t seen my actual friends since I started his hunt. Not to look too desperate or lonely I go back to my friends, chat. They’ve been eyeing me, kinda rolling their eyes in that “oh Sally,” kinda way. I wink.
For the next bit I go back and forth in between my friends and the table full of Japanese. They have two bottles of tequila in silver buckets (it couldn’t have been cheap). My first pick, a guy in a tucked in grey t-shirt, a hint of an unshaven beard and a shaved head, talks to me all night. Guessing 28. Puts his arm around me. Keeps shaking my hand for way too long. He asks for my WeChat. We yell into each others ears while talking, getting a little closer than necessary to actually hear. He says something about eating together in the following days. I agree.
It’s not that late, maybe 1:30, but the Japanese decide to leave. He hooks his arm around my waste and I put him arm around his shoulder.
“Can I kiss you?” He says. I say sure and he kisses my cheek.
“Can I kiss you again?” The same thing happens.
His friends are looking for one of his group who is gone. He continues to kiss my cheek, asking before each time. I think he’s gonna go for my mouth but never quite works up the courage. Still, most Chinese guys won’t even kiss me on the cheek on the first encounter so I think it’s good.
He texts me later. We text in the morning. I’m afraid of going down the rabbit hole of forever texting with no moves so after a quick chit-chat I ask him when he is going to take me out to dinner. Figure no sense in playing it coy. He asks me what day I’m free.
We’ll meet Wednesday night for dinner. Keep you updated.