I Went Speed-Dating in Beijing: It Explains China’s Plummeting Marriage Rate
It was worse than I thought
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“You’re going to this speed-dating event next weekend. I know the organizers!”
Fei, my colleague, thrust her phone at me, eyes sparkling with excitement and insisting I sign up.
After three months of living and working in Beijing, I wasn’t entirely convinced about speed dating, especially in a city I had just moved to and wasn’t sure I’d stay in.
But what the hell, I thought. Why not give it a shot? I was 26, single, and the dating apps were a disaster.
What did I have to lose?
This speed-dating event was the brainchild of a group initially catering to elite alumni from Beijing University and Qinghua University, China’s top institutions with cutthroat acceptance rates (<1%). Eventually, they expanded to include other prestigious Chinese and Western universities.
Having graduated from a reputable U.S. university, I fit the bill. After submitting my “resume” and photos, I received the green light from the organizers. I was in.
The morning of the event, I picked out a dress that I rented from a clothing rental app. Ivory with soft pastel yellow stripes, it cinched at the waist and fell to my knees.
Classy with a hint of sexy — that was the vibe.
Following my navigation app, I arrived at a massive university hall. It was odd enough that the speed dating was in the early afternoon, but in a university?
The venue screamed “school” — oak chairs and desks, an empty area for activities, and a podium for speeches.
What an unsexy place for dating, I thought.
I scanned the room, pretending to be casual. Around 30 men and women milled about, mostly chatting within their own genders. Two or three staff members hustled across the room handing out forms for attendees to fill.
I grabbed a form and joined a girl at a table. We started chatting.
I can’t remember her name, so let’s call her May. She was my age, friendly, and it was her first time speed dating too.
“Shall we take a look at the form” she suggested, “Lots of details to fill in here.”
The form looked rather like a resume template. We had to fill in basic information — name, age, height, job — along with sensitive details like family registry (aka. hukou, which identifies where your residency belongs to — more on this later), annual income, and whether you own properties or cars in Beijing.
The bottom section included a large box to detail your hobbies and interests.
“They really cut to the chase !”
I said to May, feeling the pressure. Sitting at a desk, filling out a form with hard questions, I felt like I was back in school again sitting an exam.
Soon, the rules were explained to us:
- 2-on-2 dating. Two girls on one side of a table, two guys on the other.
- Ten minutes per table before the men moved on.
- After everyone had met, we’d select our top three, and the organizers would match couples and announce the results.
“Sounds exhausting.” May chuckled.
“Five minutes per chat,” I noted, feeling the pressure to connect quickly.
I smoothed the wrinkles from my dress and fluffed up the top of my hair for extra volume.
Let the game begin!
The first two men arrived. May and I exchanged forms with them, like high school students diving into an SAT exam. Heads down, we immediately began scrutinizing each other’s forms.
Silence.
More silence, only broken by the sound of pencils scribbling notes.
After what felt like an eternity, Mr. No 1 finally spoke up.
“What do your parents do for a living?”
This was the first of many questions which weren’t so much about me as a person, but where I came from and my future prospects. I don’t remember most of my responses now. The men came and went in pairs, and I secretly observed their reactions as they scanned my form: Mr. No 4 frowned slightly at the top — was it my family registry? Mr. No 6 smiled at the bottom — did he like that I enjoyed dancing?
Exchange forms. Crack the same jokes. Ask questions. Rinse and repeat.
After a few rounds, I quickly identified my advantages and disadvantages in the Beijing dating market:
Pros
- Attended a reputable US college.
- Earned a decent salary of around 190K CNY (26K USD) annually, a good income in 2018 but not intimidatingly high. Most Chinese men didn’t want their partners to out-earn them.
Cons
- Short stature. At 5'2" (157cm), my height was a disadvantage. In China, many men preferred women to be at least 5'3" (160cm), sometimes 5'4" in the North. Height was a significant factor for both genders, with parents hoping to pass on taller genes to their children for better future prospects.
- Lacked a Beijing hukou (family registry), a crucial factor in Beijing.
Let me explain.
A hukou is like a green card for Chinese cities and provinces. It determines where you can buy property, send your kids to school, and receive pensions. It’s tied to your parents’ hukou, not your birthplace. Singletons often seek partners with an ideal hukou to maximize benefits for themselves and their children. For example, children with a Beijing hukou are over 12 times more likely to get into top universities in Beijing, giving them a massive career leg-up. What an unfair advantage!
Under strict policies, more than 90% of migrants in Beijing can’t get a local hukou, making it nearly impossible to buy property or access good schools.
Not having a Beijing hukou made me a second-class citizen, like a hungry eagle hunting for an innocent Beijing husband and a green card marriage. Unsurprisingly, there were speed dating events exclusively for people with a Beijing hukou to prevent exploitation.
But I digress.
Most of my speed dating conversations felt like endless, robotic interviews.
Until Mr. No 17 showed up.
Mr. No 17 caught my eye immediately.
He was good-looking, wearing a crisp white shirt and clean white sneakers. He had a pair of glasses on with round, black frames, possessing a strain of humble competence. His hair was just the right length — perfect for a loving girlfriend to tie into a small top knot.
Even before he sat down at our table, I was intrigued. We exchanged forms.
My age. Well educated. Engineer. I liked what I saw.
Oh wait. Did I see a Beijing hukou?
Bummer!
Convincing him to choose a second-class citizen like me would be tough.
Nonetheless, our conversation was delightful. He was funny, respectful, and had fascinating hobbies. I found myself smiling, laughing, and twirling the strand of hair next to my right ear.
I quickly jotted down his number and notes from our conversation, drawing multiple circles around his number and adding a star so I wouldn’t forget to put him in my top 3.
I like him. I whispered to May after he moved on, hoping she didn’t also mark him as her top choice.
After a marathon of conversations with 20+ men, a bell dingle-dangled and we were finished.
Hallelujah!
Then came the excruciating announcement of the matched couples.
I was only interested in Mr. No 17, so I kept glancing in his direction. When his number was finally called, my heart sank — my number wasn’t.
He stood on stage with another girl. It wouldn’t be me tying his hair into a small top knot as his loving girlfriend.
In the end, only four couples matched. That’s not a lot at all!
May didn’t get matched either, so we slogged out of the hall in defeat.
“It was so awkward and dry. There was no time for privacy or deep conversation with any man. I felt like the person I got to know the best is you Mandy.” said May.
May was right. Between the rotations, May and I exchanged casual chats that drew us closer. The whole process with the guys felt like a career fair — dry conversations with no fun interactions.
After exchanging contact information with May, we parted ways.
It’s no wonder fewer Chinese people are getting married.
A few decades ago, when my parents were in their 20s, the entire nation was poorer, and people were more or less equal, with jobs and properties assigned by the state. As income and private ownership grew, so did wealth and education inequality. Competition for opportunities like university admissions became fierce. The families and locations children were born into became pivotal in the resources they could access.
People became more strategic and calculating in picking a spouse to maximize their future opportunities.
When your properties, pensions, and children are at stake, there is no space for casual chit chat.
Since 2014, China's marriage rate has been declining drastically. With so much at stake, it’s no surprise people are hesitant to commit.
May and I texted occasionally, but neither of us attended more speed-dating events.
Later that year, I moved to London.
Though the London dating market is not without its own challenges, I am grateful that I didn’t have to keep dating in Beijing.
Here, no one cares if I am 5'2" or 5'3", or gives a d*mn about that family registry.
