Without the constant flashes from the lights on the dance floor, or the neon bulbs that traced the façade of the bar, the entire club would be dark. It’s known by many Beijingers to be the drug spot. If you had a craving for a line of cocaine, a pill of ecstasy, or even a toke of marijane, Lantern would be your first choice. It’s normally my first choice as well. With the right company, I occasionally dabble in the above. But my real addiction lies in music. Be it dubstep or deep house. I blame Pink Floyd on my fascination with the trippy and my Latino heritage on my inability to stand still when immersed in a room of funk.

This time, despite the afro dubstep fusion rhythm that normally monopolizes my attention, there was one other distraction that even music couldn’t overpower: Amanda.

I’m almost physically repellent to women taller than 5’9”. Amanda stands at 5’6”. Coarse dark hair was all too common for me – I grew up in a very Latino community where hints of their African heritage show through their dark spongy hair. Amanda’s was straight with large bouncy loopy curls. The women that dominate the club scene often wear facial expressions that incite anxiety in weak men.

But when I approached Amanda, her eyes sparkled in a very cliché way. In matter of fact everything about her is cliché. Dimples pierced both sides of her smile and her pearly whites seemed to glow despite the darkness. Petite, sweet, and innocent looking women always melt my heart. Their fragileness arouses a fatherly instinct. A desire, not to fuck her, but to hold her, protect her, and lightly stamp her forehead with my lips run through my mind.

“No thank you. I don’t smoke.” Lightly stepping from left to right to the beat, I had just offered her a cigarette. She understood my intention.

“What? But smoking is good for your health.” I replied in a confident Beijing mandarin. I smiled. Then she dipped her face into her hands in laughter.

I extended my right hand. “Ke Li Si”, is Chinese for Chris. “My name is Amanda”, she replied in English as she placed her right hand into my own.

Twirl!

She loves it. Her radiant smile once again appears.

Her acceptance makes me feel warm and excited. A happy type of excitement, not a lustful one. Nowadays, I pay great attention to my level of excitement. It often hurts my approach. If one’s not in balance, especially in a culture that rejects extreme behaviors and favors internal control and tranquility, he will be shrugged off as nervous or inebriated.

We dance for a bit together. Then I realize that my constant presence makes her a bit uncomfortable. I don’t quite know why. Neil Strauss would claim that lingering around for too long would lower one’s social value. On the other hand, Mark Manson would have me believe that I invested more than Amanda in this interaction. It was time to show my willingness to leave and branch out.

So I politely walk away and introduce myself to a group nearby. Four guys and one girl. Always, go for the guys first. They’re the protectors of the cutie in their group. “You guys have a light?” A tall blond dude replies, “Do you have any cigs?” I sure do. And hand each of them a cigarette. The blond dude reciprocates with a light. “Are you guys Dutch?”

“Norwegian.” It was evidence that Beijing is truly an international city.

We keep chatting. I first interact with the guys. I tried to make them feel good. Then I walk up to the girl. She’s cute. We exchange thoughts about our wonderful night in Lantern. She smiles with smiley eyes and I can see her mildly crooked teeth, not crooked enough to be a deal breaker. “I’m going to get back to my friends. Thanks for the light.” I would chat or party with them later. I look over my shoulder. Amanda was still there.

I go right back up to her.

The music’s too loud. So I decide that light touching and dance should dominate my interaction.

“Here. Follow my steps.” I say directly into her ear. I learned that placing your arm around a lady’s shoulder and using your other hand to block the music while you talk into her ear is acceptable in a loud club.
But if your interaction is still in its early stages then you must let go once your done talking.

I side step to the rhythm simultaneously snapping my fingers. Amanda’s struggling. She lacks rhythm.

“I don’t think we’re dancing to the same song.” I tease. She smiles again.

“You’re a really good dancer.” She leans into my ear and speaks in Chinese. “Ni shi nali ren?” Where are you from, she asks. The third IOI.

“I’m from the USA. Let’s go have a drink.”

Appealing to my dominance and leadership, I slowly walk towards the bar and lightly grab her hand. She follows. Then, I squeeze her hand. She doesn’t squeeze back. Then she turns away. I continue towards the bar. She reappears and this time with a tall lanky nerd. “He’s my friend”, Amanda explained.

“Hey. I’m Chris.” He couldn’t speak English so he replied in Chinese. I’m still awful at remembering Chinese names so I immediately forget. “Nimen he shenme de?” I ask what they would like to drink.

They both refuse. And then they turn around and leave.

If this were the past I would’ve been disappointed by their polite rejection. However, they weren’t rude. She still smiled. She only left after her male friend returned to the dance floor. Perhaps she didn’t want to convey a sense of sluttiness in her friend’s presence. Or maybe it was too early to accept a drink from a stranger.

Nevertheless, I still had a chance. However, I would have to warm up to her friend. To be safe, I bought them both bottles of water. I walk back over to them and hand them each their own bottle of Nongfu Shui. “Here you go,” I say to each of them as I smile and make eye contact.

“Oh, thanks”, says the nerd. “Awee, thank you”, says Amanda. Then we all do a bit of dancing. I take my drink and tap it against their Nongfu’s. We all drink at the same time. In China, friends don’t drink on their own. They drink together. They enjoy life together. They sacrifice for each other. They love each other - not in an erotic way, but in a familial way. Understanding another culture shows appreciation, sophistication, and as a foreigner, can build more intrigue.

I talk to the nerd. Then I show him some of my dance moves. He’s happy. For one moment in his night he seemed to enjoy the night club. I include Amanda. We dance together. This mild demonstration of leadership is indeed sexy. Bringing positivity and fun to others increases everyone’s closeness – and ultimately allows me to be at least a temporary member of their group.

I face Amanda. “Let’s go meet my friends.” This time the isolation worked. She couldn’t abandon her nerdy friend so she brings him along.

I came to Lantern with two gay friends and one who’s straight. Everyone, including our new pals, drink and have some fun.

Amanda tugs on my sweater. “We’re going to sit down.” I let them. I continue chatting with my friends, while Amanda and the nerd find a seat. In the club SPAM where social value prides itself as the most important tool to meeting and fucking, neediness and following others serves no purpose. In matter of fact, it hurts your game. We should find happiness in ourselves first. Never force your happiness onto others, for there’s no need. Happiness in and of itself is contagious. Thus, allow it to naturally spread.

I would eventually find their resting spot. I sat next to the nerd. Made small talk. Then got up and sat next to Amanda.

“You’re tired. You danced for a long time now.”

“Yes. So tired.” I could tell from her poor English that she couldn’t make the conversation progress on her own. “My English is so bad,” Amanda was slightly embarrassed.

“Na women shuo zhongwen ba.” Let’s speak Chinese I reply.

Her eyes light up. We talk about our astrological signs. I’m an Aquarius. She’s a Virgo. We connect on our unpopular signs. I guess correctly that she’s creative, logical, and craves adventure. We talk about our fascination with the 798 art district. I comment on her impeccable style. She teases and says that I dress too well for a straight man. We talked about my business based in Beijing. She seemed embarrassed to mention her career in finance. We communicate quite smoothly.

To top it off, we conversed entirely in Chinese. Showing your mastery of something complex doesn’t simply demonstrate value. It demonstrates future potential. It demonstrates your passion and ability to overcome obstacles.

Despite all of her interest garnered from our connection, nothing makes a women want a man more than his artful and careful escalation of touch. Nothing would allow that man to fully appreciate that woman more than revealing his true feelings and emotions about her. And that was my Achilles Heel.

Intimacy was never my thing. Astrology claims that an Aquarius can master the art of conversation.

However, it also claims that an Aquarius would remain emotionally distant, limiting this gentleman to connect with others only on a fraternal level. Those who deny the possibility that the alignment of stars and other galactic masses can impact gene expression, and therefore personality, would claim that my problem lies in my upbringing.

This also makes sense. My mother never showed me motherly love. My step-father always drank in bed watching TV rather than bestowing upon his step-son his wisdom in seducing and courting women. I never saw my mom and step-dad exchange romantic gestures or enjoy each other’s presence. They simply went about life in their own worlds, ignoring their growing distance as their mutual hate compounded. This marriage was destined to explode and end in separation.

The library and the internet were my educators – about both academics and life. When I learned to ice-skate I watch YouTube videos. When I learned to speak Chinese, I first read a textbook I illegally downloaded and took pictures of individual pages from other books in the library.

Intimacy, on the other hand, requires experience. Emotions require human exchange. Intimacy precludes a comfort with self-expression, a deep understanding of one’s own values, an admission of one’s emotions, and bravely accepting the risk that comes with revealing what’s deep inside of his mind and soul.

My problem with intimacy always resided in the back of my mind. The anxiety that unfolds is cyclical. It worsens the longer I take to act.

Of course, I keep talking. Then Amanda tries to do the both of us a favor. She grabs my hand and then leads us to the dance floor.

However, I still know I lost. Till this day, I still battle this inner fear. And it’s not her fault. It’s my own.

When we get to the dance floor, it was a chance for me to slow down and carefully progress our physical connection. However, out of nervousness coupled with excitement I danced with high energy, took her in my arms, and swung her around. Her beautiful fedora fell to the ground. She wasn’t angered. But definitely wasn’t happy. Then I picked it up from the dirty club ground, dusted it off as much as I could, and then placed it on her head of shiny bouncy loopy curls. I continued dancing with her but I could feel I had reached a dead end.

I saw one of my buddies enter the dance floor and immediately chatted him up. Amanda continued dancing and slowly shuffled towards her nerdy friend. However, the intensity of the base, the drug stimulated SPAM, and the wild party animals who danced and kept bumping me back onto the dance floor couldn’t get my mind off of my embarrassing display of social awkwardness.

It’s clear that we all have to move the interaction forward. We as leaders must recognize the windows of opportunity and seize them without hesitation. We must balance softness with dominance and leadership. We must show that we’re capable of not just taking care of them but also guiding them through an adventure that appeals to their innermost desires.

One of those desires is the excitement that comes with getting hit on – by a man who utilizes his calibrated social skills to comfort, connect, and seduce. Amanda wanted that. Most women want that. If they like you, they allow you to guide them down that path. The moment we allow ourselves to get trapped along that path is the moment when our lack of leadership, our insecurities, and our weaknesses are exposed.

And I would be trapped in Amanda’s mind as another awkward encounter she had with a guy she met in a club.

To redeem myself I continued talking to many girls. I even eventually saw Amanda again and we exchanged contacts. But as was expected, she flaked. If I couldn’t create an experience for her to remember me by. The only possible outcome was that she would flake.

This is the battle we confront. This is nothing but an all too typical story of what men must experience in order to prevent our genes from being weeded out of existence. It’s apparent that the men who succeed must carry an armament of social awareness, experience, and intelligence. Anything that wears down our armament would only inhibit our game.

Love,

CE