"I'm 26 and I've never even touched a girl's hand," Zhang Lei confessed to me on Tuesday. He looked down remorsefully at his plate of spicy pulled noodles. "I have no idea if this girl even likes me or not."

"How'd you meet her?" I asked my young colleague.

"Wei Wei introduced us; she was the go-between. I told her that I really wanted to start thinking about having a girlfriend since I'm working now and making good money. It's no fun to go to the movies alone all the time. She said she knew a nice girl and so we arranged to meet."

"And then?" I asked, eyebrows raised.

"Well, I took her to the movies, that funny cartoon about the rat chef. Great flick, I laughed the entire time. Last week I went to see it twice, again."

"Did she laugh?" I asked, shoveling delicious Muslim noodles into my mouth.

"Nope," he replied. "Afterwards I took her to eat a few dishes, we chatted and then I walked her to the bus stop. She said that she hurt her ankle after that so I want to buy her some chocolate."

"Did you make another date? Do you talk to her on the phone?" I asked.

"I'm too shy to ask for another date. Or just call her up," Zhang Lei confessed. "So I sent her a few text messages. But I feel I should buy her a gift; I think about her all the time."

"Zhang Lei, you don't even know her!" I exclaimed.

"She would be an ideal wife, I think," he retorted. "Soft, pretty, good family, educated "

"Good grief," I replied as we rose to leave. My young male Chinese friend had apparently grown up in a bubble; he was as savvy about women as a kindergartener. Young Chinese males have always struck me as more modest and innocent than Western boys.

The next day I learned that Chinese girls were definitely more hip.

"Yeah," Li Fang quipped at our lunch table on Wednesday. "The Chinese system is built on men, pleasing men, catering to men. Even Chinese medicine is all about men's needs, mostly. It doesn't address my needs, especially my sexuality. It's like I'm not supposed to even ask or desire."

"Western women are certainly more assertive than Asian girls," I answered. "But it makes us appear unattractive to men who want demure, receptive females. Your culture may have adapted Western technology and economics, but it's still Chinese at heart."

"Well, my boyfriend is American, like you," she said. "I'm not about to put up with that outdated sexist crap."

"Hey, hey--wait a moment," interrupted Yuan Fang. "Chinese men are loyal. The divorce rate is 9 percent compared to 60 percent in the United States. You can have your fun, but it won't last. You may regret your choice later, my dear." She deftly speared a broccoli floret and munched it smugly.

I ate, thinking about how baffled I felt watching my male foreign friends easily hook up with delightful, young and pretty Chinese girls. Certainly, Chinese men are clever, witty and charming, but none had ever approached me for anything other than an English lesson. Yet foreign men attracted Beijing beauties like bees to honey. What could I do to generate romance? I decided to ask the young ladies.

"Frankly, it's impossible for you," Yang Meili announced. "You need a guy with an open mind, open pockets and no extended family. Otherwise you'll be dragging nephews to the United States during every vacation. We young Chinese now marry for love, but we still marry into families, which implies great responsibilities."

"And most men smoke and drink and party with work buddies; I know you won't tolerate that," added Li Fang. "I can't stand it either. Just tell that rich banker to hurry back!" she admonished me. "Then you'll have a huanghunlian--late life marriage full of pleasures. You are more suitable for a man from the same culture; you are old and set. I'm young and I can cross cultures more easily." She shrugged and smiled at me.

"She's correct because actually, traditionally in China a widow like you should remain shougua--faithful to the memory of her deceased husband. Maybe that's why Chinese men ignore you, out of respect?" Yang Meili said.

Li Fang lifted her chopsticks and announced, "Listen, girls. The English had it right in the 16th century: Shakespeare's Merry Widow did her wifely duties and then had fun when hubby left the planet. You're Western, you speak English: Listen to Shakespeare, not Confucius, regarding love. Life's too short to miss out on love at any age."