DUPLICITY

Barring truly horrendous first dates in which I do fear for my safety, I tend to not think of myself as a notably duplicitous person. Granted, it’s not for lack of desire to be mysterious or anything quite as noble as “being a good girl” but rather, it’s simply too difficult and it takes too much energy to consistently “bait and switch” folks. Frankly, I’d like to be interesting enough to be duplicitous and all “Dangerous Liaisons” however, my reputation of “virtue” has nothing to do with “being good” and everything to do with my laziness married to my inherent stupidity. In a nutshell: I am virtuous for all the wrong reasons and therefore in no place to judge.

However, the extent of the duplicity here in China is impressive, even by my rather, “Eh, whatever” non-plussed perspective. I’ve said it before I’ll say it again: the women in China tend to be unstable bordering on crazy but they’re not stupid while the men tend to be overly misogynistic (as if there were a “moderate” misogynist). It’s a recipe for disastrous hell.
Consequently, now that my Chinese Angel has firmly pitted herself against my Beloved Colleague, I find it difficult to discern who I can trust and consequently will not be trusting anyone for the foreseeable future. Unfortunately, as I am not interested in getting into the (middle school) drama, I choose neither and would prefer to simply walk away before things get ugly.

Today (6/15) was a nightmare of a day. There was a violent outburst in one of my primary school classes and though I did my best to control it in real time, a student still got hurt and I feel infinitely responsible. The bottom line is that I have consistently been put in a classroom with a student who is entirely too volatile and while I have consistently explained that I am in over my head and that I need help, my cries for help have fallen on deaf ears. Consequently, while my (far and away) most violent student lost his mind today in class and (per usual) there was no one available to help (despite my sending responsible students to go find responsible adults), I did the best I could to contain the physical violence this one student (approximately my size and my strength) was unleashing. However, the triage decision I made to get expel the violent offenders from my classroom led to one of those violent offenders getting hurt later and so I was reprimanded (lightly) at lunch for having made the wrong decision because “putting students outside a class during class time isn’t safe and we should make every effort to try and keep students in class.”

At that reprimand for having done the best I could do in an impossible situation sent me over the edge. Not only did I have a student’s injury on my conscience, the frustration of being patronized as the typical girl who overreacts and the rage at being ignored because foreigners don’t understand how to handle children, I now had my boss lightly scolding me when, in all reality, if I was Chinese, my ass would have been fired.

It’s safe to say I lost my shit.

Granted, I lost my shit in a way that isn’t really cinematic but I lost it nonetheless. I simply got up from my lunch place, informed my lunch mate, “I’m sorry but I have to go for a walk because I am very angry right now,” and I calmly walked off and continued to walk until the shaking subsided a little.

After my freak-the-fuck-out and a phone call to my Brazilian Angel to calm me down, I returned to my office for the meeting to discuss my refusal to teach that class anymore. The meeting turned into a three hour tirade against the issues that teachers who have to deal with a child who is regularly and viciously beaten by a parent have to face. The Chinese teachers clearly were angry with the boy and the parent for not dealing with the situation and the principal was clearly having trouble dealing with how to deal with a student he couldn’t expel.

“Don’t be angry,” was repeated over and over to me.

I fully articulated that not only was I angry and going to stay angry for a good while but that when my employer forces me to choose between having to allow one student to get seriously hurt or allowing numerous students get seriously hurt, you can be damned sure I’m going to stay fucking angry.

My point was made and then I was told that I couldn’t stop teaching the class because to stop teaching the class would mean that I was telling the students it was okay to give up.

“No, it’s not about giving up, it’s about respect. I am not just a single teacher. I am everyone who is not Chinese. With me, they build their understanding of everything that is not Chinese. When I came here, they had many bad habits from the teacher before me and it has taken a lot of work to break them of those disrespectful habits and I will not start allowing disrespect back into my classroom. I will not allow my students to think it’s okay to be rude and disrespectful to all foreigners. That would mean I am a bad teacher.”

The principal conceded that I had a point and promised to sit in on my next/last class with this particular class.

Just as I finished that discussion that left me with a migraine and an incredibly shaky nervous system, I had to go see the headmaster to resign my contract for the next year.

I was supposed to see my Chinese Angel so I went to her office. In her office, my Beloved Colleague showed up and they exchanged words. Clearly neither was happy with having to talk to the other and I have suspected for some time that though they are both seriously involved with others, they have had some sort of romance going on. Clearly something between them has soured and something between my Chinese Angel and I has soured as well. She seems to be clearing house of the people she cares about.

Earlier this week, I brought my Chinese Angel to my gym. I wanted her to have some fun and see some gorgeous men. I told her to take it easy on herself and not to push too hard but the fact of the matter is, she’s in terrible shape, though she is very thin, and we couldn’t do anything without her being totally exhausted. So, I suggested we take one of Tank’s spinning classes as I figured she could just sit on the bike and peddle along with us when she felt like it. However, something went terribly awry, she pushed too hard, did something to hurt her leg and fell off the bike. In other words, she lost face.

And, in China, there is nothing worse than losing face.

Since that class, she has been angry with me and is not willing to invest anything in our friendship. Because she is embarrassed by what happened, she refuses to deal with me and treats me like our friendship is an incredibly taxing effort for her. In fact, she now refuses to speak English around me as it is clearly too much of an effort for her to patronize my lazy linguistic capacity and insists that I use Chinese. Of course when I do use Chinese, she laughs at my pathetic attempts and when I don’t understand she simply repeats the Chinese over and over without telling me what she means.

Consequently, I don’t trust her anymore. She is looking to humiliate me the way she felt she was humiliated so we’ll be back on common ground. This return of tit-for-non-existent-tat that I haven’t experienced since high school is quite obnoxious.

Thank god, this duplicity has reared its ugly head today, of all days. Today, I had to re-sign, despite the fact that it was the LAST thing I wanted to do.

Nevertheless, I went to my Chinese Angel’s office and as I entered, things were weird (as they’ve been all week). Then my Beloved Colleague entered, they had words and he left, very cross. I was told I should go with him and he had a long head start but did not wait for me.

That was clue number one that something was quite wrong. Then as we sat in the headmaster’s office, my Beloved Colleague did not look at me. Clue number two.

“Are you okay?” I asked, worried. I don’t trust most people in China but I do trust him. I’m quite certain if something was wrong, he’d tell me.

He blinked from behind the mask and then acquiesced to my concern. “Yes, I am okay,” he said, smiling.

I didn’t fully believe him, as he seemed exhausted and irritated but I did believe it didn’t have much to do with me. In fact, if it did have to do with me, it was only peripheral.

He translated for me with the headmaster and we walked back together, his foul mood clearly lifting as we chatted. We then parted, he clearly a bit distracted as it’s the end of the year and he’s got bigger things to worry about than me.

As I was heading back to my apartment, I received a text message from my Chinese Angel telling me not to trust my Beloved Colleague. “Do not trust [your Beloved Colleague] do not believe his is a good man. He is half good but also half ugly.”

I replied by saying that I am old enough to know that no one is always all good or all bad and I asked what had happened to make her say this.

“When we were in my office he said bad things you could not understand. He knew I could not stand it so I did not go.” She explained.

I figured everyone’s under a lot of pressure right now and the last thing they need is to be babysitting me; it’s no wonder he wasn’t thrilled with having to care for me.

“Is he just having a bad day or did I do something wrong?” I asked. It’s a tense time, under tension people say and do things they regret and perhaps I had overstepped a boundary that set him off. Frankly, if he was going to talk shit about me, I probably did something to deserve it. He’s a rare, good man and I seriously don’t think that he gets off on talking about me behind my back.

She explained that he is a deceitful man who loves to hate people and that “everyone” has grown tired of him. The moment anyone speaks to me how “everyone” has suddenly grown tired of a single individual my suspicion is aroused. With the usage of “everyone” the sound of “Hmm” entered by brain and won’t leave. “Everyone” is a word people use to serve themselves, not the greater good. “Everyone” rarely agrees on anything. “Everyone” certainly doesn’t give a resentful shit about this friend who confides in me and shows active curiosity. “Everyone” usually means “me in a way that I am so overwhelmed by I can’t control.”

As she pushed this idea that he really despised me, it began to dawn on me that this wasn’t about my Beloved Colleague and but rather about drama she was trying to stir up. At that point I figured, I had had enough. I wasn’t interested in cultivating drama and to push the matter further would be to stir up things. It was established I did nothing wrong and it that the attack (on whomever) was unprovoked.

Let sleeping dogs lie, as it were. Besides, if this wasn’t about me and it was about her, there would be a great shift at some point about fake concern for me. People always think that presenting themselves as selflessly trying to assist you in your plight against the ills of the world is going to convince you to trust their (lying) word. Frankly, she has not been concerned about me since she fell and I don’t believe that in a single fight between the two of them, she would suddenly regain the great affection she had for me before she lost face. I have been relegated to doghouse and despite my efforts to take care of her when she was hurt, I clearly need to be punished for her error in judgment. I don’t believe for a second that she would suddenly be concerned for me above all else.

And, confirming my suspicions she then sent several text messages about how she hoped nothing would upset me and that she just wanted me to know and that she was just trying to be a good friend by informing me. I’ve never seen someone cover their own ass so fast. It was really disheartening.

And, in the greatest stroke of irony, I found solace in the West Egg party I attended tonight. I found my own duplicity waiting for me. After too much assault of the Chinese duplicity, it was comforting to be surrounded by Western familiarity. My good friend who is French who I always end up sitting with just got married. I’ve made new friends with some Kiwi folks who’ve recently made the commitment to up and move to Xi’An. Even the constant discussion of my weight loss and how I’ve “come so far, keep it up” seemed to blend in with the comforts of home. Perhaps my favorite moment of the evening came as I was leaving and an older, Australian friend kissed me on the back of my hand to the tip of my shoulder. It made me laugh with happiness.

“Why do women always laugh when I do that?” He asked, feigning hurt. “My wife says it’s because I’m funny and they should laugh at me.”

“Maybe we’re laughing with pleasure!” I exclaimed. I know I had been. It was the loveliest, flirtiest, most direct gesture of affection I’ve gotten in some time and I adored it. “They do say, ‘Women date tall, dark and handsome but they marry short and funny.” I said to the man a head shorter than I.

To my great delight, he smiled broadly and kisses me from the back of my hand to the tip of my shoulder again. It was a lovely moment. I’m growing too hard. My sense of romance, so in bloom when I first got here has withered and dried up with the constant onslaught of the Chinese perspective of using romance as a means to an end. The “gold and jade” on the outside has given way to the “rot and decay” on the inside and I miss my middle ground. I miss my naïve sense of romance. I miss the pleasure of male company. I miss the comfort of steady men happy to see me because they think I’m pretty, charming and generally lovely. Most of all, I miss what I found with Bill. I miss the freedom I felt with him and I can’t stop thinking about him. To be close to anyone here is so dangerous and I just want the safety of Bill again. If even for only a day, to know such comfort would be a gift I would be forever grateful for.

However, as I look back over what I wrote about our brief time together, I find the hardness in me simply baffled that a man like that could exist. As I wrote out the things that we did, I remember thinking how much I wish I could have done a better job at capturing all he did and gave me. Now, I read those passages and find myself disbelieving a man like that could really exist and I really don’t like that. The cynicism I find creeping in with this constant barrage of rather childishly executed duplicity that I’m surrounded by coupled with the patronizing, let’s-see-if-we-can-fool her romance is beating out my capacity to believe in beautiful relationships and the moment you lose the ability to believe in the beauty of relationships is the moment you lose the ability to have beauty in your relationships. If you can’t see it, you can’t embrace it.