Crazy Rich Asians

“Yeah, but this guy is different, I’m telling you. He’s the most impressive guy I’ve met in years. So charming. And HOT. I would be after him in a second if I wasn’t already married.”

“What’s his name? Maybe I already know him.”

“Nicholas Young. He just started this semester, a transfer from Oxford.”

“A Brit?” Rachel looked up, her curiosity piqued.

“No, no.” Sylvia put her files down and took a seat, inhaling deeply. “Okay, I’m going to tell you something, but before you write him off, promise you’ll hear me out.”

Rachel couldn’t wait for the other shoe to drop. What fabulously dysfunctional detail had Sylvia left out?

“He’s … Asian.”

“Oh God, Sylvia.” Rachel rolled her eyes, turning back to her computer screen.

“I knew you were going to react like this! Hear me out. This guy is the total package, I swear—”

“I’m sure,” Rachel said, dripping with sarcasm.

“He has the most seductive, slightly British accent. And he’s a terrific dresser. He had the most perfect jacket on today, rumpled in all the right places—”

“Not. Interested. Sylvia.”

“And he looks a bit like that Japanese actor from those Wong Kar-wai movies.”

“Is he Japanese or Chinese?”

“What does it matter? Every single time any Asian guy so much as looks in your direction, you give them the famous Rachel Chu Asian freeze-out and they wither away before you give them a chance.”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do! I’ve seen you do it so many times. Remember that guy we met at Yanira’s brunch last weekend?”

“I was perfectly nice to him.”

“You treated him as if he had ‘HERPES’ tattooed on his forehead. Honestly, you are the most self-loathing Asian I’ve ever met!”

“What do you mean? I’m not self-loathing at all. How about you? You’re the one who married the white guy.”

“Mark’s not white, he’s Jewish—that’s basically Asian! But that’s beside the point—at least I dated plenty of Asians in my time.”

“Well, so have I.”

“When have you actually ever dated an Asian?” Sylvia arched her eyebrows in surprise.

“Sylvia, you have no idea how many Asian guys I’ve been set up with over the years. Let’s see, there was the MIT quantum-physics geek who was more interested in having me as a twenty-four-hour on-call cleaning lady, the Taiwanese frat-boy jock with pecs bigger than my chest, the Harvard-MBA Chuppie^† who was obsessed with Gordon Gekko. Should I go on?”

“I’m sure they weren’t as bad as you make it sound.”

“Well, it was bad enough for me to institute a ‘no Asian guys’ policy about five years ago,” Rachel insisted.

Sylvia sighed. “Let’s face it. The real reason you treat Asian men the way you do is because they represent the type of man your family wishes you would bring home, and you are simply rebelling by refusing to date one.”

“You are so far off base.” Rachel laughed, shaking her head.

“Either that, or growing up as a racial minority in America, you feel that the ultimate act of assimilation is to marry into the dominant race. Which is why you only ever date WASPs … or Eurotrash.”

“Have you ever been to Cupertino, where I spent all my teenage years? Because you would see that Asians are the dominant race in Cupertino. Stop projecting your own issues onto me.”

“Well, take my challenge and try to be color-blind just one more time.”

“Okay, I’ll prove you wrong. How would you like me to present myself to this Oxford Asian charmer?”

“You don’t have to. I already arranged for us to have coffee with him at La Lanterna after work,” Sylvia said gleefully.

By the time the gruff Estonian waitress at La Lanterna came to take Nicholas’s drink order, Sylvia was whispering angrily into Rachel’s ear, “Hey, are you mute or something? Enough with the Asian freeze-out!”

Rachel decided to play along and join in the conversation, but it soon became apparent to her that Nicholas had no idea that this was a set-up and, more disturbingly, seemed far more interested in her colleague. He was fascinated by Sylvia’s interdisciplinary background and peppered her with questions about how the economics department was organized. Sylvia basked in the glow of his attention, laughing coquettishly and twirling her hair with her fingers as they bantered. Rachel glared at him. Is this dude completely clueless? Doesn’t he notice Sylvia’s wedding ring?