I Heart Competition (#335)

In BC times (“Before Child”), my Chinese American husband never missed a gift-giving occasion. Flowers were delivered on my birthday, or sometimes, “just because.” There were platinum earrings to match my engagement ring at Christmas. An emerald necklace was mine on Valentine’s Day.

It took me a while to realize part of Andy’s motivation was to overshadow—and in some cases replace outright— all gifts from previous boyfriends.

In AD times (“After Dalton”), Andy’s gift-giving prowess deserted him. One year he completely spaced on stuffing my stocking (a huge family tradition) or giving me any Christmas presents. Since that was the first year we didn’t spend Christmas with my family, that meant I had nothing to open on Christmas morning.

Our son actually stopped stuffing his face with gummy worms, looked over his giant wall of toys/crumpled wrapping paper, and said, “Mommy, you must have done something terrible.”

Andy, behind his own pile of wrapping paper, Kona coffee, See’s Candies, and bourbon bottles, looked everywhere except at me as I said, “Well, Dalton, sometimes people don’t always make good choices. And then they have to live with the consequences.”

I left them to clean up the mess while I took the dogs for a long, long walk and called my girlfriends. Since Andy didn’t grow up with a lot any holiday traditions, the gal pals felt that divorce or murder was a smidge premature. However, they agreed that it was completely reasonable that Andy should sleep outside on the patio, especially since rain was in the forecast.

Later, I had a long talk with Andy about his new sleeping arrangements the importance of men modeling caring and respect for one’s partner. This is especially critical when one has an only son that one does not want to grow up utterly entitled.

Andy was very contrite. He may have been allowed to sleep on the couch. With the snoring, farting dogs.

*****

Perhaps Christmas night with the dogs was an unforgettable consequence for Andy. I may also have dropped a few sharp, pointed comments reminders about modeling good behavior over the next month.

On Valentine’s Day, I found several gifts on my placemat when I got up: a tote bag that looked like an old school library card, a book, and some Vosages chocolate bars.

“Aw! What a cute bag! And a new book!” I exclaimed. “And which of you gave me the expensive chocolate bars?”

“Those are from Dad,” Dalton yelled dismissively, running into the dining room. He excitedly handed me a big red heart filled with at least a pound of See’s Candies. “This is from me.”

I hugged him and said. “Thank you! That’s so nice!”

“Dad took me shopping and I picked it out myself. And they gave me free samples.”

Andy appeared, presenting me with an even bigger red heart. This one was covered in red satin and held two pounds of See’s Chocolate. “And this one is from me. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Wow. That’s huge.”

Dalton glowered at Andy for a minute before launching himself at his father. “You copied me! But you got the bigger one! How dare you!”

Andy laughed and tried to fend off Dalton. As the inevitable wrestling match ensued, Andy yelled, “Well, I couldn’t have my Valentine be outdone by my own son!”

That was NOT the message I wanted my son to learn about gift-giving.

But it was something.

 

The Boyfriend Thieves (#194)

Being an Amazonian brunette sandwiched between prettier, blonder, more petite sisters sucks. More than one guy ditched me after meeting my sisters.

Take the Boy Next Door. I pined after him for the entirety of seventh grade. He finally asked me to the last dance before school ended. Then Older Sister, who lived with Dad (I lived with our Mom) came for the summer. The Boy Next Door told me we were done, because he was in love with Older Sister. Continue reading The Boyfriend Thieves (#194)

Gossip Gets a Bad Rap (#182)

Back in college, if I found a guy interesting, I asked around until I found someone who knew him well. (This was back before social media enabled anonymous stalking, youngsters. Back then, we had to have actual conversations.) Once I found a reference, they usually enjoyed sharing their expert opinions on my potential love interest.

“Well, if you like D&D, you might have a shot.”

“If you like open relationships, you might have a shot.”

“If you have a yacht, you might have a shot.” Continue reading Gossip Gets a Bad Rap (#182)

An Anti-Valentine for America (#175)

The roses are blackened
The violets are dead
Your liver is poisoned
By sugar and bread.

The news is disheartening
An Orange Cretin is King
Republicans gloat
And won’t do a damned thing. Continue reading An Anti-Valentine for America (#175)

When Your Asian Guy Won’t Fight For You (#157)

This spur-of-the-moment midnight post might not be for everyone. But a fellow Western Woman involved with an Asian Male is heartsick now. Maybe there are a few other women out there running into this same cultural clash.

Maybe I can help. So here I am, riding in on my white horse, with this post about one of the biggest struggles I face with my Chinese-American guy. Not every white woman’s experience will mirror mine, and not every guy with Chinese parents will turn out like Andy. But some of you might see just enough of the same dynamic to find our story helpful.

*****

In my white, American family, dissent was acceptable. Continue reading When Your Asian Guy Won’t Fight For You (#157)

Black Valentine (#115)

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About three years before I met Andy, it was A Very Bad Year for Dating. My boyfriends were:

The Cheater

The Emotionally Abusive Dude

Broody, Moody, Emotionally Unavailable Dude

Sometimes, you just have years like that. Continue reading Black Valentine (#115)

One Beastly Dance (#73)

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My Chinese-American husband and I met in the competitive partner dancing world. My boyfriend/ partner at the time (Ethan) didn’t want to compete anymore. He said, “Hey, you should dance with Andy.”

THAT was a tactical error. Continue reading One Beastly Dance (#73)

Don’t Do Dick (#64)

Will the sun finally go down on Dick?
Will the sun finally go down on Dick?

When I read Susan Blumberg-Kason’s Good Chinese Wife: A Love Affair with China Gone Wrong, the book took me back to the relationship I had with Dick, the man who introduced me to competitive dancing. If you want to be taken back as well, check out Dick The First and Dick The Second. In short, Dick morphed from charming into controlling as fast as I turned into a decent dancer. Continue reading Don’t Do Dick (#64)

Dancing with the Dick, Part II (#63)

One cannot overstate the number of rhinestones found at dance competitions.
One cannot overstate the number of rhinestones found at dance competitions.

For those of you tuning in for the first time, I’d suggest reading Part I first. Don’t worry, this post isn’t going anywhere!

I didn’t say much to Dick on our way to my first dance competition in Palm Springs. He drove. (Have you ever noticed how the dominant personality always drives? Useless info I learned in film school.) Continue reading Dancing with the Dick, Part II (#63)

How to Tell the Dancer from the Dance (#62)

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Until last January, I had no idea that other people had noticed the dearth of Asian Male, White Female couples. I certainly had no idea there was a whole AMWF cyber community. And while I was kinda bummed that I was not, in fact, the first internet interracial love pioneer, I was delighted to find so many other unicorns. Some were even authors! Susan Blumberg-Kason, for example, wrote a memoir entitled Good Chinese Wife. Continue reading How to Tell the Dancer from the Dance (#62)