Entry #9 I was on a Dating Show (Part I)

Going on television has always been an undisclosed dream of mine, a guilty pleasure that the prouder side of me had kept hidden since childhood. And it’s not that being on TV is necessarily something painfully common or reserved for the ignorant masses, for some very intelligent people are on TV nowadays and they always seem to have something rather insightful to say about this, that and the other. But wanting to be on TV, now THAT is something reserved purely for fat middle age grocers name Gladys and other similarly talented individuals. For most of us that grew up in the generation of The Price is Right, Family Feud, and Friday night TV dinners to the tune of TGIF, going on television was an honor bestowed upon the luckiest or often times, best looking few, a criteria that, sadly, the majority of us fall short of. I am not lucky. I can tell you this because for the past 23 years of my life, I’ve pretty much lived under the huge phallus-shaped shadow of Lady Luck’s finger, but imagine my surprise upon arriving in China to discover that the large majority of people here did not share in my passions for this lower-middle class American dream and as a result, going on TV was no longer a task as difficult as attaining enlightenment or stealing cake from an obstinate diabetic. The opportunity had finally arrived for me to realize the shameful dream of my childhood, and admittedly, even now.

The entire deal began with Terry’s appearance on a show called “Dating on Saturday”. But before I begin, I suppose I should explain as to who Terry is. Terry is this laidback guy who came to Shanghai from the coast of California. Long black hair parted in the middle, unshaven face, bright toothy smile, he reminded me of a 1980’s Hong Kong film director – the ones that made kung fu movies, not porn. We met at my friend Judy’s birthday party and that’s where he told me that he was interviewing for a dating show.

“I’m interviewing for a dating show” he said.

Up to now, with the exception of the ambiguously gay guy we all knew in college who danced his way through every scene in MTV’s Roomraiders, I had never actually met a person who had been chosen for a dating show. So I asked him the question that any normal American guy struck by tube-dom would attempt to ask.

“How did you do it?” I asked, like some driveling 5 year old who just witnessed the world’s bestest magic trick.

“I just signed up online” he said in that casual, nonchalant, my-grandmother-could-do-it way as he coolly swept back a few strands of silky black hair from his forehead.

And so it was decided. After hearing of Terry’s effortless triumph over the shadowless gatekeepers of TV land, I figured – quite free from the help of logic and reasoning - that if someone I met could go on TV then my chances of success simply must have increased by association. I mean, it was just so painfully obvious. Like, Doh.

So long story short, I got on the show.