The Asian Rake

I am a top lifestyle consultant based in Asia, coaching select clients to improve their lifestyles. At present, I am also a professor at a top research university in Asia. I like to think that I’m an accomplished jazz musician and martial artist, as well, though bystanders may disagree. I’m ethnically Chinese, for those to whom this matters

You can hear me talk more about my background in my March 08 interview with Christian Hudson here: http://www.thesocialman.com/asianrakeintv.mp3

Here’s my bio on The Social Man website.

If you have any questions about my services or about living the rakish lifestyle, click on the Personal Coaching tab above. You’re also welcome to send me an email! asianrake “at” asianrake.com

Life as an Asian Rake is pretty damned good.

But it wasn’t always this good.

I used to be the “odd one out.”

I was born in Taiwan to an upper-middle class, ultra-conservative, fundamentalist Christian family. When I was five, we immigrated to Kansas City, Missouri. This was the early 80s. That’s a pretty strange place and time for a five-year old boy from Taiwan to grow up in. I didn’t know a word of English.

My parents tell me that I didn’t say a word for the whole first year of school in Kansas. My teachers thought I was learning disabled. It’d be an understatement to say that I was the odd one out.

They told my parents to put me back a year. Luckily, my parents didn’t listen. Apparently, I couldn’t stop talking the next year.

After a few other moves because of my dad’s work, we ended up in Toronto, Canada. We settled in a suburb, which for a long time was predominantly upper-middle class white. Nowadays you can’t walk down the street without seeing an Asian grocery store. But back then, things were very different.

I was the only Asian boy in my fourth-grade class. I was the odd one out.

Fast-forward to high school. Things got a little better.

I made the basketball team because I was quick and a tenacious scrapper. But I was only 5’6” (168cm) when everyone was already six feet tall. To make matters worse, my dad was afraid I’d break my new glasses. I had to wear my old, plastic glasses attached to a string that tied behind my head. So I couldn’t see very well. Even the ball was blurry unless it was right in front of my head. I also had to wear basketball shoes that were two sizes too big just because my well-meaning uncle bought them for me, and we didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I was a size 7. My shoes were a size 9. So not only could I not see anything, I also kept tripping over my own feet. Oh yeah, and don’t forget, I was six inches shorter than everybody else.

In warm-up for a big game, I once dribbled the ball on my over-sized shoe, and the ball went flying into the bench. I couldn’t even do a lay-up during the pre-game warm-up! Our star player asked me, “Damn, man. Why are you always the odd one out?” He was actually a pretty nice guy. He was just wondering… As was I.

Things started to turn around in my senior year of high school. I was a really sweet guy with an unusually manly, sexy voice for a kid my size. I was the star jazz musician in our high school for the performing arts. At least I had that. I was also a star student, getting straight A’s with little effort.

This was enough to get me my first real girlfriend, a dancer with a sexy Marilyn Monroe voice and double-D breasts. That was a great combination. A dancer’s body but with DD cups. And she was white, though that wasn’t a big deal for me, in case you were wondering, since almost all the girls in my school were white. At least there was one advantage to growing up in an upper-middle class all-white neighborhood. Everyone was polite (so at least no overt racism), and if you dated a girl at all, chances are good she’d be white.

We dated for over a year, right up to when I left for university. Why would a girl like this go out with a guy like me? Her answer: “You are such a good guy.” I guess she was already tired of the bad boys. And she was into the Buddha and yoga and shit like that, so I guess I was exotic enough for her.

She dumped me after I became clingy, possessive, and very jealous of any guy who touched her. Actually, she was very forgiving, even after I cried in front of her many times, begging her to take me back, which she did, over and over, until she had had enough of my self-indulgent dramatics. I was pretty pathetic back then.

I was the odd one out with my friends, too, who were all white. When we went to the movies, it was six white kids and me, the Asian kid.

I moved up to Montreal to start university at McGill, where I promptly became once again, the odd one out. On my birthday during the first fall term, all the kids on my dormitory floor were going out to party because it was a Friday. The don remembered it was my birthday and told everyone. They all wished me a happy birthday, the drunkards that they were, and invited me along. But I couldn’t hold a conversation with any of them to save my life. Halfway down the walk on the way to the bars, they ditched me. Feeling like a loser, I tried to cheer myself up by spending some time in the local strip joint, of which downtown Montreal had plenty. But that just made me feel worse since I was still trying to be a good Christian kid back then. I was the odd one out again.

Things started to look up near the end of the year. I got another girlfriend, an artsy hippy chick. She was white, too, and very cute. I think she dated me because she was tired of the bad boys, too. Oh yeah, and like most artsy hippies, she was into all things “exotic,” including apparently, Asian guys.

Then my parents shipped me off to spend the summer in Taiwan to learn Chinese. Previously, I didn’t like visiting family in Taiwan. I was the Chinese-looking kid who didn’t speak Chinese well. In Asia, I didn’t fit in either. I was the odd one out there, too.

But this time was different. I was on my own. Before this, I didn’t like Asian girls because they all reminded me of my sisters. But this summer turned me. I think it was because I finally saw enough distinct-looking Asian women in one place at one time that my aesthetic sensibilities were finally honed. Asian girls didn’t all look the same. In fact, some looked extremely sexy and alluring. I became hooked on Asian hotties.

When I got back to Canada, I started making a lot more Asian friends, including some cute Asian girls. My life regained its passion. I started to come alive.

I took a bunch of classes in Asian studies. I loved them. I dropped my pre-med courses, and I switched to a major in Asian studies. Then I went on to graduate school, studying Asian philosophy, religion, history, literature, and culture.

I got in touch with my Asian heritage. And I began to feel like maybe I wasn’t the odd one out after all.

But I was still a conservative Christian. I even spent a gap year studying theology in an ultra-fundamentalist seminary.

So I did what every good conservative Christian boy in his mid-twenties ought to do. I got married to the nice Christian girlfriend I was having pre-marital sex with. LOL.

Our first few years of marriage were happy enough. She was supportive and sexy, at the start anyway. But then things started to turn sour. After all, inside I was still a needy wuss. My wife became more demanding and shrill. Her feminine charms withered, as she made up for my lack of emotional masculinity by emphasizing her own. We often fought. Furniture and dishware were thrown about. I was deeply depressed, but didn’t even know it.

Then came a period of a couple of years where all my doubts and questions about my religious faith surfaced in a strong way. I looked everywhere for satisfactory answers, but found none. I left my ultra-conservative Christian faith behind. And my priorities and purposes shifted… big time.

Eventually, my wife and I separated for a couple of years. At first, we were forced to do so because of work obligations. Then, we separated for good. And then came the divorce. It was an amicable split. No kids. No real assets. Just broken hearts.

But my old social circle of good Christian “friends” judged me and rejected me. I forced the divorce. I was the sinner. Again, I was the odd one out.

Yet this time, I was on my way to realizing new dreams.

I had the good fortune to be in a class with Christian Hudson, who at that time was responsible for running much of Charisma Arts’ operations. He graciously took me under his wing and showed me the ropes. I owe him a huge debt.

My life took a big turn when I traveled to China for a year and a half abroad. With some of the things I learned from Christian, as well as various ebooks and audio courses, I employed my newly developed skills to create a life of pleasure with cute Chinese hotties in a way I’d never dreamed of before. I went on a streak near the end, enjoying the intimate company of over 30 Chinese babes in just over two months. I was having so much fun with them, I felt like parts of my body didn’t even belong to me anymore. My work suffered as a result. But I was living in my own hedonistic paradise.

These were the days of my experiences with the Chinese mafia, the Japanese yakuza, and many other crazy adventures.

I returned to America a new man. I trained under some of the best pickup artists in the industry. I started to get really consistent results.

Word got around, and I started teaching some of my friends in college. They started to get results. And word continued to spread.

I started a blog as a way to keep in touch with close friends while I spent yet another year abroad in China. When I felt I was ready, I opened the blog to the public.

After a few months, the blog really caught on and the readership exploded 900% in a single month! Guys were writing in on a steady basis. Most of the emails were praises, compliments, and stories of gratitude, plus the occasional hater, but those always make for fun reads

For once, I was no longer the odd one out.

Oh yeah, and then there are all the girls… the Koreans, the Japanese, the southeast Asians, the white chicks, and of course, the stunningly gorgeous Chinese models.

I guess in the land of men, I still am the odd one out. But this time, it’s in a good way, at least if you consider something like 10% of the men in this world have slept with over 90% of the women, and the top 1% have been with even more.

Life’s funny sometimes, especially when you are always the “special one,” the odd one out

Happy playin’, The Asian Rake.