Meet Stella: A sassy Asian-American who is slowly learning about the Beijing dating scene Meet Scarlett: An American 20-something who finds the Beijing dating scene to be fun and carefree Live their lives for a change …

Recently, I’ve faced what I like to refer to as a “vanilla dilemma.” I’ve been hooking up with a guy who is good-looking, incredibly nice, and unselfish in bed; the problem is that he is just a little … well, vanilla. Nothing about him excites me, those giddy butterflies don’t appear when her calls, or inspires me to pursue anything that resembles an actual relationship. The dilemma part came about when I wanted to maintain the current casual affiliation, while carefully navigating that fine line between dating him and engaging in something that is strictly a booty call.

Take the most recent example of our “relationship”: I texted him at 2 a.m. last Friday, only after a couple too many mojitos and the fourth Madonna came on at Alfa. My message was obviously a booty call and before long he was at Alpha, alone, and I quickly ditched my friends (sorry Stella!). A short cab ride later and I was in throws of that great sexual ecstasy that only comes when you’re absolutely free in bed because you don’t really care what the other person is thinking, feeling, etc.

It was, and always is, only the next morning when I started to wonder why I was in a bed across town, hair disheveled and reeking of smoke, and with someone I definitely didn’t want to be seen with at Steak and Eggs for brunch. The issue isn’t that I think he is suffering from unrequited love, but after so many of these encounters, I wonder if this “friends with benefits thing” is preventing me from pursuing someone who sets the butterflies aflutter. I mean, what if I am missing out on that perfect guy because I am too busy calling Vanilla all the time?

One also must consider how to act when suddenly faced with a casual hook-up in a totally different context: I ran into Vanilla at lunch the other day. I was alone and it was inevitable that I had to sit with him. Conversation was lackluster. I tried a variety of topics, but I guess it’s difficult to segue into normal parlance when the whole history of our communication has been logistics planning in preparation for a hook-up and the occasional dirty talk. Then, after lunch, I suffered a few moments of do-I-kiss-you-goodbye-or-not indecision before I gave him the one arm hug and darted out of there.

I think we both understand that our relationship is borne and sustained largely out of convenience; considering the size of Beijing, we’re practically neighbors and meeting up at the end of the evening is often as simple as hopping from one end of Sanlitun to the other. And it’s not that I actually dislike vanilla—in fact, simplicity and predictability is often a welcome relief from the emotional complexities associated with more serious relationships. So until the hot fudge sundae counterpart to Vanilla comes along, I’m happy to relish the fact that I’m enjoying any dessert at all.