Asian Persuasion

A strange phenomenon has occurred in the recent past in my life: Asian women. Now, while I often find them attractive, I’ve never been fixated on them. In the past couple of months, however, they seem to have invaded my thoughts.

Aged To Perfection
Several weeks back I attended a Meetup.com Dining Out group event at a Chinese restaurant. It was a well-attended event, despite the snowstorm that hit our area that afternoon. The organizer had split the group in two based on preferences: those interested in dining family-style were at one table, and those like me who wished to order individually from the menu were at the other. Once everyone had arrived I found myself seated not quite directly opposite a beautiful Japanese woman who appeared to be about 35 years old. Though she’s a long-time member of the Dining Out group, none at our table had ever met Hiroko before.

As conversation progressed, a couple of people asked Hiroko about her life. She told us in her heavily accented English that she has lived in the USA for 25 years and that she has been divorced for about 10 years. Someone asked her how long she was married. Her answer: 20 years.

Apparently all under the same impression based on her appearance, we all scratched our heads as we each frantically tried to do the math in our heads. Finally one brave soul asked, “How old were you when you married, twelve?”

Hiroko blushed and laughed. “No, I was 20.”

Before anyone could finish that math problem, she said, “I’m 50 years old.”

Silverware rattled as jaws hit the table. There is no way, from any angle, in any light, that I would have guessed Hiroko’s age at anywhere approaching 40, let alone 50!! And judging by the reaction of everyone else at our table, neither would they!

Dinner continued, and Hiroko was positively charming, and I found myself screwing up the nerve to ask for her phone number. I’ve never been comfortable asking such things with an audience, so I chose to wait until I could take her aside for a private moment. However, to my deep chagrin, another member of the group, a man who I could probably more accurately guess to be around age 65, and who apparently has no hangups about an audience, turned to Hiroko right there at the table and asked her for her number! Never before have I felt so compelled to punch an old guy’s lights out!

Undaunted nevertheless, I did wait until we were all getting ready to leave and, while we were putting on our coats, I did ask Hiroko for her number, and she did give it to me. It still boggles my mind that I want to chat up a 50-year-old woman!

The problem now is that quite a few weeks — maybe a couple months — have gone by, and I haven’t screwed up the courage to call her. Have I missed the window? Would I be right or wrong to call her now? Feedback, please.


The Pinch of Sugar
Back in August I signed up with Soulmates, a face-to-face dating service. For a fee they provide referrals which I then call and, if the chemistry seems right or the conversation goes well, I can meet face to face with the woman for some hopeful dating success. Or sex.

“Success” has been fleeting with this group, however. Since September I have met with only three women. The first one seemed very nice, and we even made arrangements for a second date...but then she screened my calls and never returned messages. The second one was very attractive, a medical specialist who drove a BMW, but she had told Soulmates that she wasn’t interested in meeting any divorced men, especially someone as freshly divorced as I was at the time (one week)! The next one was sick when I called and promised to call me back...but she never did. The next one — a woman from Belarus — after a missed meeting because she had forgotten her mobile phone at home, was not very attractive and was very difficult to understand. I need to follow up on my comment to Soulmates to teach their “counselors” the difference between “speaks with an accent” and “speaks broken English.” The former is charming; the latter can be maddening.

Then I got the call a couple weeks ago with a new referral. Sugar (yes, it’s her real name) is 32, from Mongolia, divorced with a 10-year-old son who does not live with her. She is “slender and attractive,” but does not have a driver’s license, so I would have to drive to wherever she is. Was I interested? Uhhh...sure. What the heck!

Usually a little more geographically savvy than the average American, I drew a blank on Mongolia. I went online and found it, tucked there between China and Russia. Then I Googled “Mongolian women photo.”

Holy WOW! I was encouraged.

I phoned Sugar and we chatted. She speaks English very well and with little difficulty. We texted our e-mail addresses to each other, and we agreed to meet on the following Saturday at a mall in the southwest suburbs.

We rendezvoused at the agreed upon place and ... Holy WOW! She is gorgeous! We walked to the Starbucks in the mall, ignored the coffee counter and went straight to a table. She was on her lunch break (she’s a caregiver for invalid and terminally ill people), so we only had about 90 minutes to chat.

The conversation went along smoothly, and we really seemed to hit it off. I was curious about her feelings on the 12-year age difference between us, and when I asked her about it, she asked me what year I was born. When I told her, her face read concern. She must have already known my age; Soulmates would have told her that. But age wasn’t the issue.

“You’re a dragon.”

Huh?

“You’re a dragon. That’s no good.”

Why is that?

“I’m a dragon.”

HUH?

“People of the same Asian zodiac sign are not compatible. The best is the sign four years apart. You want rat or monkey.”

I tried to reason with her that it was all superstition, but, having come from Mongolia only seven years ago, this is practically law to her. She was unwavering.

“I really like you. You the first man I meet from Soulmates I like and want to be friend with.”

Great. The “I like you, but only as a friend” line, with a sexy Mongolian accent.

She did, however, tell me that she has a Mongolian friend who is a rat that she would like me to meet. Maybe the next time they went out together they would call me and we could all three go out where we could meet. I started to protest, saying that I like Sugar, and if this woman isn’t as beautiful or charming to talk to as Sugar is, I would spend all my time talking to Sugar. She laughed and said that her friend is “nice.”

Then I realized two things. One, if Sugar truly believes that she and I would never get along simply because we were born under the same Asian zodiac sign, then it will bother her forever, no matter how well we might get along, and would eventually come between us, magnifying any differences we might have and drawing her attention to that zodiac-mandated “incompatibility.” Two, she was proposing a threesome date...Farrago with two Mongolian women, one of them certainly gorgeous, and the other potentially as hot. While the every-man’s-fantasy scenario would most likely not happen, I could stand being the envy of every guy in whichever place we might spend our evening! And who knows? Maybe the rat and this dragon will make sparks! So I backed down from my protest, and agreed to let her arrange a meeting between her friend and me, if the rat feels up to it.

Regardless, I’m feeling a little relentless. I invited Sugar to the next Sunday Series concert at the Chicago Symphony Orchestra April 5. I still await word whether or not she wants to go.

The Impossible Dream
I spent last weekend and half the week in Atlanta with a client’s annual convention where I did my usual on-site thing, shooting a highlights video. Another usual on-site thing I do is flirt with the home office women who work the registration desks and in the organization’s booth in the exposition hall. With the camera as my tool, and also as my social crutch, I am able to get away with more than I would just on my own, so often I will use it to “torment” my chosen target(s) and get some good video.

I saw a new face, whom here I will simply call ‘D.’ She’s young, slighly plump, and beautiful, with a hint of Asian features in her face. I pressed the record button and aimed the lens right at her, at which point she immediately threw up her hands to block her face, which she had also tried desperately to tuck into her armpit! I did not relent, enthusiastically encouraging her to let me see her face. Then she grabbed the lapel of her sweater, official wear provided to her by her employer, and pulled it up over her face, perfectly displaying the organization’s logo right to the lens!

I momentarily forgot that I already had the tape rolling, and when I saw this perfect display of the logo, I thought it tapeworthy. I said, “Hey! That’s great! Do that again!” I wanted her to cover her face and, since she didn’t want me to capture her countenance, I thought this the perfect scenario. She could cover her face and I would get the video I wanted!

But D was having nothing of it. I lowered the camera to my side in a gesture of peace, and I pleaded with her to do it, but she persistently refused.

Then I noticed a flush in her cheeks, and her eyes looked distressed, almost as though she were about to start crying. I was crushed. I felt I had upset her badly and, despite that my company had worked for hers for more than twenty years, mine is still a vendor and hers is still the client. I could get into trouble for upsetting or pissing off anyone at this event, and I felt I had crossed a line. I apologized and excused myself.

It was already near the end of that first day of shooting, so I left the expo hall and encountered one of the client bosses and told her about the situation, and I apologized to her. She seemed too busy to notice that I was even speaking to her, but I had delivered my apology, and I went on to the next thing.

The next day was just as busy, if not busier, than the first, and though I wanted to approach D in an uncharged moment to give her my sincere apology, I didn’t see her anywhere.

That evening was a late one for everyone involved, as there was an awards dinner, after which I had to shoot a scene as part of a larger sketch we had conceived (and I had written!). I saw D at the doors to the dinner, but she was surrounded by her coworkers and, my audience hangup still perched on my shoulder, I felt unable to approach her.

After the dinner and after the brief shoot, I returned the light I borrowed from another shoot we had going in another room, and then on the way back to my room I took a detour through the bar to see if any of our guys was there, and to maybe have a drink.

Amidst the throng of convention attendees — all of whom seemed to have been at the awards dinner — I did see one of our guys, and after a few minutes of talking with him, I spotted D at a table with a couple of her coworkers. She was still wearing the evening gown she had worn working the awards dinner, and I thought she was absolutely stunning in it. I abandoned my coworker like a soiled diaper and wended my way toward D and said hello. I told her that I really felt bad that I had upset her the day before, that it was never my intention to do that.

She replied that it was no big deal, that she wasn’t upset, just embarrassed. I didn’t believe her, and I told her that I still felt bad for tormenting her. I asked her what she was drinking, and if she wanted another. She did.

Twenty minutes and $23.50 later (fekking hotel bars!) I returned with a Grand Marnier on the rocks for D, and some brand x blended scotch for me. We chatted for a while, and that’s where I fell. I looked at her face and saw the most sincere eyes I’ve ever looked into. She seemed to be listening to every word I said, and when she spoke to me I could have believed anything she told me. She locked her eyes onto mine whenever either of us was speaking to the other, and it seemed to me as though all the crazy noise from the people surrounding us couldn’t interfere with our conversation.

She’s 25 years old, of Filipino and European descent – her mother being from the Philippines and her father of German and French origins. I told her that it appeared she had wound up with the best qualities of each. She asked me my age, and I told her to guess. I always feel that’s a mean thing to make someone do, and I usually respond cruelly to anyone who asks me that by purposely guessing way older than they appear. So call me a hypocrite.

She guessed 28! When I told her my real age she first didn’t believe me, but then she gave me a high-five for my deceptively youthful looks. And I felt my heels float past my head.

As it went, she and her coworker decided to head outside for a smoke (big negative), but D grabbed my forearm and said, “Come with us!” How does one describe the sound of swoon?

We stood outside for a few minutes amid the throng of conventioneers there. D asked me to take a photo of her and her coworker, we engaged in small-talk, and then we went back inside. Done with my drink around 12:30am and looking at an early enough morning ahead of me just for work, and adding to that the workout I wanted to get in beforehand, I announced it was time for me to go. D turned to me to thank me for the drink. That face again. Those eyes. The sensation of falling into them.

It occurs to me now that I should have responded in amazement at her impossibly accurate guess at my age, that people usually guess me a little older, even above 30 sometimes, but she hit the nail on the head with her guess of 28. My evening might have ended differently if she didn’t think I was so much older than she is....



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