Jan. 2021; Hugging a tiger

Living in another place for a certain amount of time, you really start to notice the hidden subtleties of an alternate culture. The quirks, the weird and wonderfuls, the oddities, and the downright ridiculous. If a person from China came to live in my part of London for a decade I’m sure they’d be absolutely perplexed by some of our customs and everyday norms. How we joyously dip biscuits in tea, perhaps, or how we have this incessant need to complain about damn near everything, but when asked how the food is in a restaurant we always reply with “mmm lovely, thank you,” even if we secretly proclaim it unfit to feed a pig. When you first arrive in any new place, may it be for holidays or business trips or most other reasons, you can immediately get to grips with figuring out the blaringly obvious cultural differences. People drive on the wrong side of the street. People talk funny. The food is too spicy/bland/expensive/unhygienic. But after a while these things just become the norm. There’s been dozens of things about life in China that initially caught me off guard, but I now consider completely normal. People shouting at each other when they’re only 2 meters apart. Hot water being the recommended cure for all ailments. People wearing pyjamas in the street or supermarket. But after a while of living here, day to day, just being Joe Bloggs normal and going about your mostly uneventful life, you start to scratch the surface and dig a little deeper. And that’s when you notice the real differences. And one of those subtle differences is the topic of this weeks Sunday Scribble. It’s the thing that Dracula travelled “through oceans of time” for. The thing that’s brought more happiness and misery than cocaine. The thing that makes you insane, makes you blind, and makes you do and say more stupid shit than all the tequila in the world could account for. Yes, it’s the four letter word that millions have died for. That crazy little thing called love.

(*Side note; before I slip into my pink flowery shirt, put on some soft music and ready myself for romance, this needs to be said; I’ve gotten used to many differences here, and many of the things I once found unusual/weird/plain annoying I now manage to completely ignore. But the three things that still make me lose my mind, are; the dropping of litter (you don’t care about your country or want to live in a clean place?), people who eat with their mouths open (are you a farm animal? If so please go back there immediately) and worst of all, ugh, the spitting. Now I get it, we all have to clear our throats sometimes. Sometimes. But the most sickening thing about this spitting thing I see and (most disgustingly) hear every single day is the song-and-dance people make whilst getting liquids that are perfectly fine to stay inside the body, out. If people were to take a clean tissue, cover their mouth and quietly release a little lump of stuff and then place it discreetly into a bin then I’d have zero problem with it. But no. It’s the whole grunting, hacking, rasping and coughing up display, that seems to be louder than a rock concert and you just cannot ignore it. It’s repulsive, it’s unhygienic, and it’s entirely unnecessary. Ask any visitor to China what’s the main things that make your stomach turn, and that’ll be in there. Ugh. Anyway, back to the romance..)

So indisputably, love is the thing that’s been the subject of more songs, poetry, art and literature than anything else throughout history. Romeo and Juliet (who, did you know, were only meant to be aged 13 and 16) got so much grief from their parents about it they decided to top themselves. (If there was ever a Chinese version of the romantic tragedy Romeo and Juliet, it would surely be based on two mid-level project managers, the feuding families would be Tencent and Huawei, and they’d inevitably kill themselves over the amount of overtime expected.) Many decades later the Beatles famously penned “money can’t buy me love,” when in all actuality they should have just taken a trip to Thailand. You can truly buy a lot of love there, and all very affordably, too. But in all seriousness, what is it? What is this primeval, inbuilt chemical reaction that makes our knees go weak, our hearts go soft, and our judgement go to shit? You can’t describe it. Many people search for it their whole lives, yet it continues to elude them. Many people have way too much of it, whereas others have way too little. I think most adults have felt it, but I’m sure in a myriad of different ways. The act of falling in love is a tricky one. It kind of feels like hugging a tiger. It appears so soft and warm and protective, so beautiful and so powerful, and yet you know at any time it might shred you to pieces. It’s tricky. It’s not an easy feat.

So somewhere along the line of life you manage to snag a boyfriend/girlfriend/ whatever or whoever, and after a while (minutes/days/months, maybe years) your tummy starts to feel like some toothless ayi is dong the monthly laundry in there. You find yourself finding meaning in the lyrics of love songs you never previously cared for. You secretly want to check the history of their facebook/wechat/weibo et al, but simultaneously you also don’t want to be seen as a weirdo stalker (but you do it anyway.) Then the day comes when it can’t wait any longer. It’s been simmering inside for far too long and those three little words just have to be blurted out loud. And herein lies another set of problematic questions. Now, if you say it first there are two possible outcomes; Option A; they either don’t say it back, (or even worse, look semi-terrified/just smile/say “uh, ok, thanks?..”) and then you feel like the worlds biggest idiot. Oh god you’ve blown it, they’ll think you’re mental and moving way too fast, they’ll never want to see you again or return your calls or messages, oh shit oh shit I should have kept my mouth shut… Or, B; They say it back, and immediately you start internally questioning why... Do they mean it? Are they just being polite? Have they loved you for a long time and you were too stupid to see it? Are they just plain lying? What do they want? Maybe they’ve said it to loads of other people… (and so on and so on.) And on the flip-side of this, if they say it to you first, how do you answer? The mood is right, the lighting is low, everything seems perfect, the words gently leave their sweet lips and they are looking at you like the cat in Shrek with those big, glassy eyes.. how do you reply? Do you say it back in the wish of making them happy? Do you keep quiet and feel so incredibly uncomfortable and just watch their heart break silently? Do you lie? Do you run away screaming?! Surely if you felt it you’ve have told them already… See what I mean, this falling in love thing is a veritable minefield. Tread very carefully.

Some people are born wearing their heart on their sleeve. They are caring, sweet, honest and kind, loving people, and all too many have been heartbroken more times than they care to remember. Whereas other can seem cold and distant beings, their hearts replaced with stone, pessimistic and doubtful of sweet intentions and kind words. Does your head rule your heart or your heart rule your head? It’s probably not advisable to be either of these personality types, but over the years I’ve met plenty of both. But to go back to differences, here in China one thing that never ceases to perplex me is not the feelings of love, it’s the actual saying of those three little words. Now I’ve asked a lot of people this over the years. When was the last time you said the words “I love you.” When? I’ve asked this to happily marrieds and single dogs alike, old and young, from different backgrounds and regions, and the answer is almost always a slightly uncertain “Ummmmmmm…….” It appears to be that here in mighty Zhongguo, people feel they know their husband/wife/boyfriend etc loves them, but they don’t actually say it. Those words aren’t actually spoken regularly, and sometimes not said at all. But people are aware that it exists, their other half does indeed love them. In my understanding, people here regard showing love more important than actually saying it. But how do people show it? Is it like “I know she loves me, she gave birth to our children,” or is it more like “I know he loves me, he bought me a Bentley.” I’m a great believer that talk is cheap, actions speak louder than words, blah blah blah, but to me, sometimes you just need to hear it. Maybe not every day, but sometimes. Like many attractive ladies don’t need to be told they are beauties, but it’s still welcomingly reassuring to hear it. But the thing is, it doesn’t only stop with couples not saying it, I’ve also noticed the distinct lack of families saying it too…

When I compare the European countries I’ve known against somewhere like Asia, or especially China, I’m never saying one is right and one is wrong, like these guys are good and these guys are bad. It’s just different. Different methods and systems and social protocols work better for different people and different places. And of course some families are much closer than others, whereas other families are more like just a bunch of people somehow connected. Some people can’t imagine not seeing their parents or children for a week or whatever, whereas others haven’t seen them for years and have no intention of changing this. But in Europe at least, most parents say I love you to their kids with definite regularity, many parents even several times a day. And many kids reciprocate this, although many when they eventually become adults themselves and realize that time left with their parents is finite. But as of this day, I’ve yet to hear a parent here say those words to their children, or a child to it’s parents or family. It’s just different. I’ve asked people their opinions about why this might be, and the answers range from “people are shy here,” to “we show feelings but don’t talk about them,” to just the usual “I don’t know.” I’ve often wondered if the world might be a happier, safer place if there was a few more “I love you’s” spoken every day.

As much as it pains me to say it, I’m sure there will be some people reading this who’ve never actually fallen in love. But is that such a bad thing? As the poem from Lord Alfred Tennyson claims, “Tis better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all,” but how true is that in all reality? People fall out of love every day with their partners, things change and feelings change with it, and then what’s left for the other person? Not much more than a broken heart and somehow needing to attempt to put their life back together. It’s been stated by many clinical psychologists that the break up with a partner can put some through a mental grieving stage, similar to the death of a family member. You can read the news every day about some troubled soul who decided they’d rather quit this world than live in it without their loved one. When renowned country singer June Carter died in 2003, her legendary husband Johnny Cash passed away just a few months later, after a grand 35 years together. Family members said that he “died of a broken heart, his reason for living was gone.” So is it better to have loved and lost? If you ask this soppy old romantic, then unquestionably. Love does indeed make you blind, just ask Jack Ma’s wife. You look past a persons faults and shortcomings, and just see this radiating ball of adorable loveliness you want to smother with affection. And love may also make you crazy. Your sense and reasoning and priorities all go out the window, and purple jelly seems to occupy the space where your brain was previously. It can make you say words and share feelings you’ve never even known before. You sing for no reason, you smile like an idiot, and the whole world seems to be tinted with a soft pink glow. If love was available to buy as a powdered drug, it would surely be illegal. But in my mind, thousands of love songs can’t be wrong. The power of love. Love me tender. All you need is…love.

This weeks Sunday Scribble may come across as really quite different to usual, and I’ll most likely be back to my usual salty self next week. But in the mean time, I have some homework for you. Actually let’s not call it homework, let’s call it a social experiment. Just try this. See what happens. Some time this week, tell someone you love them. Someone you might never have told before, or perhaps someone you haven’t told for a long time. Tell them and see their reaction. I dare you. I double dare you. Try it and see. Let’s see if our little world changes with a few more “I love you’s” out there.