Excuse Me, But I’m Chinese

But, but I’m Chinese, and so is he. He cannot be confronted, and I cannot close, and certainly not in that manner you proposed. I tried it just before Derrida’s demise, you know, with catastrophic results. My words just taste bad. I still remember.

The Depths of Shallowness
The Very Dead and The Very End
For The Pleasure of Seeing Him Again

Because I’m Chinese, and he is, too, and so we take the long route. We had walked readily, mostly in silence, and perhaps, in shame. Love cannot and must not come easy. There are forests to walk through, mountains to climb and stranger places to take me. Being Chinese makes it hard to be truly passionate. Sex is a no-no, but seeing each other flushed and sweaty is always a good substitute. Anyhow, I never know what to make of dates like these: dramatically Chinese in the most elaborate, pregnant and constipated sense, restrained and distant, yet close, because we are alone, by ourselves, in secluded places including a terrifying time on St John's island. It's weird, but nevertheless there are times I feel very cherished.

As an absolute aside: My concept of 暧昧 does not involve bedroom (or anywhere else) intimacy. That’s just too messy to handle in my Chinese world. (NB: And the character 暧, is pronounced as “ai”, not “ruan”. Tsk, all these pseudo SAP people…)

Then again, I may be still Chinese, but faith in his faithfulness and my own has worn thin. The China Doll is not as Chinese as she has thought.

*

Eek. You practised self-censorship and deleted a post.

I wish relationships, even pseudo ones, could be as easily erased. But the trace always spurts right across the page, in the writings one commits to restore confidence and convictions in lesser times when the memory collapses and doubt spills. Especially when I’m too sentimental not to keep them.

I know not what happened in the past (and I like to think I no longer care) but once upon a time, it appeared to mean something to two people. The words protest, on behalf of the one who has always under-read, to tell of an unlovable love story.