Kung-Fu Catfights in Search of Compatibility

Over the weekend, it’s estimated that 10,000 people between the ages of 22 and 35 showed up single and ready to mingle at a matchmaking event organized by the Chinese government in Shanghai. 

With the belief that you stick to your own, a two-day event, open exclusively to Chinese nationals became the city’s largest ever love fest.

It was estimated that 6,000 tickets were sold to single ladies and if the 4000 men that bought tickets liked it,  they could heed the wise words of Beyonce and put a ring on it. The ratio of women to men was three to two, so you could imagine the Kung-Fu cat fighting that might have unfolded on the day.

Comically, around 3000 parents tagged along to the event to help filter through the germy men to each find their respective daughter’s a gentleman. Long queues of singles waited for a chance at a five minute chat with participants of the opposite sex. 

The event was organized as a reaction to the rising numbers of single women in China who waited longer to marry and refused to settle for men of lower socioeconomic status. 

It got me thinking about marrying your equal.  While at the gym this morning, my personal trainer quizzed me on my criteria for a future partner. While I wasn’t particular on profession, I knew that as I got older, I’d want to end up with an intellectual equal (or have him be intellectually superior to me). 

I needed a challenge. I needed to be mentally and emotionally stimulated and since I worked hard, I wanted someone who shared the same values and sought success through honest, hard work (like I do). 

While I’m a champion for love, I don’t think it’s always enough to sustain a relationship so I sought high intellectual and emotional intelligence, this is what I typically found in my friendship group. My besties were all dynamic women with plenty of depth and while we were all in different occupations, I respect each and every one of them as equals so I popped friendship on my list too. You need to be friends so that you’re equals so when fights unfold, you both have boxing gloves and both have protective pads – guaranteeing you fight fair and that no one is left alone in the ring. 

Friendship canceled out snobbery and if any of us were social snobs within our group, I’d say, I was probably most guilty of it. 

I do wonder if snobbery is a sensible or superficial argument however. For example, if every guy wanted to marry a mental equal, then they’d enter into increasingly competitive relationships (on the plus side affairs with secretaries might end) and a plethora of other problems might arise. If snobbery was standard among men then neither Princess Mary nor Duchess Catherine Middleton would have had a chance at marrying their loves. My girlfriends might also not be in their relationships if they had looked at their partner’s careers over their compatibility. After considering this, I confused myself and lost all direction for this blog. 

I hate fence sitting, so I did it till sitting hurt my backside and bounced off with a bit of clarity. 

 At the aforementioned Shanghai match-making event, 6000 women showed up in hope of finding the one went with the naked admission that what they had tried so far hadn’t worked. 4,000 men concurred and just like that 10,000 people had something in common. 

United in cause but not necessarily status, the quest among all of them was for compatibility. There was no formula but their was a search for chemistry. 

The equation was 1+1, the science combined biology with chemistry and failed history would inspire an exchange of language; the language of love – that would speak more profoundly than any degree could, it would work harder and sweat more than a bricklayer in forty degree heat and would lay down the foundations to make the partner their home and in the eyes of the law, their union would be recognized. Love was about bringing together many specialties to create a special tie. 

No psychic could foresee it, no singular specialty could sustain it and no level of education could inform it. Compatibility was key and every individual had the right to search for it and deserved to find it.

For love of rhyme and love of love, I wrote a poem to summarize the above:

The terms and conditions are yours to make,

Strictness and refinement are fine when your heart’s at stake,

The greatest lesson that can be learned,

Is that your love and affection should be earned,

The one that fights for your affection,

is the one worth your attention and your reflection,

While he or she may be flawed in one way or two,

Only you can decide what is perfect for you.

  

Would love to hear your thoughts on this one….

Pest Control

It’s been a while since I’ve had a crush which is very uncharacteristic of me. I’m usually looking at at-least three boys at once to fill my time and imagination (which is very male of me). I like the boy who is great to look at but who I’ll never do anything with, occasionally I’ll engage in a mild flirtation with the guy that makes coffee (his purpose is obvious) and then there’s the one you look at who you hope you’ll settle down with. Knowing this, you can imagine my horror (and boredom) when I realized that nobody was capturing my attention. Surely (I thought) there must be someone out there to fill my mind and time with. What on earth would I write about if there was no man to inspire my text?

Then he came.

As the saying goes, when it rains it pours and true to form, I had a few men entertain my mind’s stage this week, but only one so far, with a moral lesson worth sharing. Phew (for you the readers, and for me, the writer)!

The distractions have been dancing around in my temporary memory; I’ve placed them there because I know they won’t last (which is a horrible way to look at potential love – but a realistic way to look at lust).

This boy satisfied aesthetically but failed on too many other more important counts. 

The first of his failures was his inability to understand instructions with ease.

He persisted. I resisted. 

Weirdly, this rejection flattered him, instilling in him the false belief that I was  playing hard to get when really there were no games here just some words that were sprayed to exterminate a pest…and like one of those horrible cockroaches that refuses to die, he just kept on keeping on. 

This boy came with the furniture we just bought for our home (so I guess that makes him a termite or something). He was the removalist.

Believe me, I think this is as funny as you do. 

I joked to a friend; 

“How would people refer to us? The reporter and the removalist?” (Yes, I’m a bit of a career snob)

“He’d be great for when we’re moving house or helping friend’s move (and then their go our weekends) but what am I supposed to do with him all the other days of the week?”

He was very attractive so I could look at him – but I’m a big believer in marrying your mental equal and his Jersey-Shore exterior didn’t quite have me convinced that he had a mind like Shakespeare’s.

My number was on the delivery slip so I received a few calls from him to “check” details after the delivery was made. I did my utmost to convince him to bring in our furniture and keep his courtship at the door. 

Our conversation went like this: 

“Can I keep calling you?” 

“You’d be wasting your time if you did,” 

“Why” 

“You’re 19 (yes forgot to mention that).That’s a little young for me” (I’m not at a point where I have to resort to cradle snatching (speaking of cradle snatching look at this clip I produced on The Morning Show that went GLOBAL this week: YAY: http://au.tv.yahoo.com/the-morning-show/video/-/watch/26372699/teen-bride-takes-on-critics/) 

“Look I know it’s normal to be scared of something as beautiful as me, I just wanna hang out one night,” he said (Now you’re both young and dumb). 

“I’m sure you can find someone your age,” I insisted. 

“You like brushing me off don’t you...and I think you’re being silly. We’re practically neighbours, we should just go out…we can even just be friends,” he pushed. 

“No thank you. I have plenty of friends.”

And just like that, the pest was controlled.

I’ve never been a fan of bugs. If I see an insect, I say KILL it, don’t sweep it up, don’t pick it up and throw it into the garden...just get rid of it. FOR GOOD!

I particularly don’t like those pestering creepy crawlies that persist after you’ve Morteined the life out of them. It’s clear you have no place for them in your home and such was the chase and capture of the removalist.

At least for a day, I had a story to retell and a lesson to learn; be careful what you wish for...because when what you wish for creeps in...you might just need some pest control.