What does this have to do with my burger?

NOTE: THIS IS A POST WRITTEN BY MY GIRLFRIEND.

For some (yet unknown) reason, people think my dating a Chinese guy is the most interesting thing ever.  I think Sean is the most awesome thing ever.  But we are by far an exceptionally boring couple.  We’re both accountants [Sean's comment: but one is in tax and one is in audit!].  Many Saturdays have been blissfully spent with him watching the Military Channel and me reading something either biographical or about finance/economics.  I love it but it’s not terribly exciting.

I don’t have any issues (surprisingly) with strangers; it’s with my friends that it pops up. 

A direct corollary of this is that I speak (mangle) Mandarin. You would think I tell people that I cured cancer, the way they feel the need to share with everyone.  I’m sorry; I thought this was my life.   I don’t work in an area that my language skills are even interesting, let alone necessary. 

My friend has taken this to an extreme.  I ran into her in the cafeteria downstairs.  I, as usual, ordered my burger.  They, unfortunately, had an Asian Chicken Salad that my friend wanted.  After she ordered it , she told the guys behind the counter that I am Chinese.  Wait, full stop.  See my picture down there?  I’m not CHINESE, I am a proud pasty-American.  My hair is mostly brown with a stray red hair or two.  It is very difficult for me to buy makeup because I am literally too pale for their shades.  No one can confuse me for being Asian [Sean's comment: but some Chinese people have asked me if I am Chinese]. 

Now what do I do? Racial identity/relations are complicated enough.  I don’t want people to think I’m some sort of freak claiming I’m a race that I’m clearly not.   But she cannot stop.  She then tells them that I speak Mandarin.  I do but what in the **fluffy kittens** does that have to do with my burger?  I’m sure these guys want to be discussing my possible racial background at 1 pm on a Tuesday. 

So one of the guys (who I’ve never met before – I eat there all the time. He’s new) asks if my mother or my father is Chinese.  Deer in headlights.  Ummm, my boyfriend?  So new guy (NG) says “Oh so I must be super-Chinese. Because I’ve been married to a Chinese woman for 15 years.”  So we end up having this quick and dirty discussion on China, the freakishly strong Asian genes and which is better: Shanghai or Beijing (he lived in Beijing for 6 months where I guess he met his wife as she is from Beijing).  Just to be sure I would want to crawl into a hole and die as soon as possible[Sean's question: with fluffy kittens?], when he mentioned his two kids (quote “they look 90% Chinese”), my friend commented “oh they are only ½ Chinese.”  Yet my pasty self is 10,000% Chinese.  Ok.  I understand fully now. 

So I need to go back and view pictures of his kids.  While it is cool to have a new faux-Asian friend, this is why I rarely tell people I speak it and only mention my boyfriend’s race when necessary.  – Fries please!  [Sean's comment: no ketchup!]