In the fall of 2004, when I was 19, I studied abroad in the beautiful coastal Chinese city of Xiamen. One Friday evening, I attended an English meetup at a local university, hoping to make some Chinese friends. To my surprise, a group of Chinese men — young, but older than I was — flocked to me, asking me repeatedly if I had any boyfriends, if my dating life resembled the popular American sitcom Friends, and if I was “open,” which I later learned was a poor translation for a Chinese phrase that meant “sexually liberal.” I was not.

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