Visit to the Nuthouse – From Furio’s old diaries

Disclaimer: This history is part of a sea of personal reflections that I collected during my first year in China. Despite having changed the names of all people mentioned, the facts – as improbable as they might seem – all really happened.

Spoiler Alert: This series is extremely explicit and contains a high level of sarcasm. If, for some reason, you might take offense, I would then recommend the Junior Woodchucks Guidebook : ).

Index: Click here to read all stories in this series in chronological order (however this is the first one).

“Satisfaction is the death of desire,” Anonymous.

My woman left me

My woman left me.

By now at the threshold of my thirties I ask myself yet again why I continue to fall for girls so quickly. Yet I saw from the beginning with Yang Yang that it would end badly: she lived in another part of the city, spoke English with great difficulty and to top it off was very traditional.

But despite knowing my errors I need to be emotionally involved to fully enjoy a relationship. And I suppose this intermittent frustration is the price to pay for my disarming lack of self control. I tried to concentrate on work but it was useless. I sent her a final message:

“Did you dump me because I’m Italian?”

She showed up in chat, and in what is close to English wrote:

“Don’t be sad, our communication very difficult, hard to explain my thoughts to you.”

I confessed that yes, I was sad. Then I asked if she was afraid.

“I like serious attitude, I’ve always went to look my future man for all the ages. I think we should end it to avoid big problems.”

Here’s where the Google automatic translator must have gone to smoke a Marlboro.

“I need more time to define our relationship,” I pressed.

“I agree, but I need Chinese man, dear. It’s my family. Simple thing for you, hard for me. Goodbye for now.”

Sweet Yang Yang gave me the axe in chat. I decided to get my mountain bike to get some lunch but even she was gone – I was robbed.

“Shit!” I yelled.

I scrolled through my cell’s contact list until my eye came across one Li Ping, who I hit on at a light a few days earlier. I sent her a message:

“What are you doing tonight, would you like to meet for coffee?”

“Yes,” she responded.

I have diarrhea

I recognize her from far off. Li Ping is wearing a maternity dress that makes me thing of Ronald McDonald and, to make matters worse, she’s brought along a horrendous friend. The last stroke to this masterpiece is when, before we even have the chance to say hello she informs me:

“I don’t feel well, I have diarrhea.”

I thought that dragging out the suffering would make no sense. I smiled and told her:

“Excuse me but something urgent has come up and I have to leave right now.”
Source: http://www.saporedicina.com/english/visit-to-the-nuthouse/