The Chinese have lots of sex but don't enjoy it

Via Shanghaiist, that's what this study suggests:

Really strange results just in from the Durex Sexual Wellbeing Global Survey this year: 78% of the Chinese have sex weekly, but only 24% were able to achieve an orgasm everytime they had sex. Any sexperts out there wanna tell us what insightful analysis one can make based on the above two statistics?

This study could have been flawed in any number of places, but I'll forgo speculating and instead jump straight to a conclusion: assuming -- because it's easier that way -- that we're dealing with sex in the most carnal sense of the word, not the sort of sex between couples which might be called coitus, it is possible that we, the Chinese, are all so self-conscious as to be embarrassed by the expression of pleasure, as if that might open doors to dark inner chambers where spirits of ancestors reside and prefer not to be disturbed; or it could be that that same self-awareness precludes us from focusing our energy -- qi, if you will -- on the pleasuring of our selfs, and so our deferential nature clashes with our partner's deferential nature, resulting in an energy-drain that makes our bodily motions seem unnatural and grotesque. There is also this: the question of whether to have sex for our womenfolk is never about satisfying self-desires, a "yes" or "no" to the bodily inquiry "What of pleasure tonight?" They prefer to consider it contextually, ultimately refashioning the question as, "Shall I follow through?" The answer is coldly calculated and cerebral, tipping off the mind that the body wants control over the mind-body entity. Of course, the mind does not cede so easily, and so the resulting sex is cold and calculated, lacking the spunk which might increase the chances of climax.

But please don't quote me on that.

Actually, it's more likely that the menfolk have mounted one too many bicycles. I, for instance, hopped on a bike today and went out looking for a coffee shop to sit in and read Cormac McCarthy, and now my gonads are sore. What was supposed to be a 10-minute ride turned into something closer to 40 (but in fairness to me, I had fun for the first 25 minutes, as this was my first time on a bike in years). When I couldn't find the Starbucks near the Beijing Bookstore, I started biking east and didn't stop until I reached a rainbow-colored arch that signaled I was near Silk Street Market, located on the corner of Changan Jie and Silk Street, a hotspot for Westerners. (The irony of the name Silk Street hopefully doesn't escape you; everything inside is counterfeit, despite government claims to "crackdown" on counterfeiting.)

Here's what Silk Street looks like at night:


The coffee there was too expensive -- 26 Yuan, or nearly four dollars -- so I didn't bother. It was also getting time for me to leave. On the way back I stopped by a Starbucks and found the price for the Coffee of the Week was 15 Yuan, which isn't bad. Next to the Starbucks was a French bakery called Cafe Eiffe, and if you know me, you know my disdain for the French (it's a long story, and I don't actually disdain them). I didn't go in.

Hopefully the air is better next time I'm outside. I now completely understand why long-distance runners have expressed concern over the pollution. Look at this picture and tell me if this looks normal:


That's not a storm brewing back there. As I was riding along, I could distinctively feel my lungs lacking for oxygen, and the shortness of breath told me this pollution ain't no joke, and if it was I'd not have the air to muster a laugh.

POSTSCRIPT: I got a chance to see the National Grand Theater up close, and I'm happy to say it was very impressive. Seeing it from afar just doesn't do it justice. It would be so much better if it rested under a blue sky though -- this just looks depressing -- but alas, what are you going to do? Seed clouds?