I'd only met Xiao Tian recently through friends, but he was about to indulge in an eating and drinking session with an unexpected turn.

"I was deeply shamed last week by my girlfriend," he confessed during a late summer meal on Saturday.

"I caught her watching porn," he continued in a low voice, as the rest in our group brayed on about a wedding neither of us attended.   

Staring at the bottom of his glass, I reflected on how his confessional curveball failed to stun me for multiple reasons.

After many years in China, I've come to understand that being a foreign friend involves misconceived assumptions about my expertise and experiences. 

Sensitive political topics are the norm with older gentlemen; inviting them to correct my beliefs is apparently just a way of making small talk.   

As for my younger Chinese brothers, I invariably become their therapist. Because I'm from the "liberal" West, I can offer advice on failings in the bedroom, fetishes and pitui (literally the "splits" - Chinese slang for two-timing), so they believe.  

Initially, I used to parry their lunges. "Sorry, I don't know what to say. That's never happened to me before."

But this results in immediate discomfort of the advice-seeker for putting himself out there. 

Later, I discovered just listening and asking questions gives them a chance to vocalize the problem and work it out themselves.

It's only when friends are actually seeking a solution in earnest that I get in trouble, having nothing to fall back on except a mix of personal experience, logic and advice gleaned from daytime TV talk shows. 

Recently, an old friend relayed a story about walking into a Beijing public restroom to find one young man "lending a helping hand" to another. They fled upon being sprung, with one assuring my friend "nothing happened" over his shoulder.

My friend then admitted he was "stimulated by the experience," and wanted to know what this meant.

I told him that perhaps he should explore these feelings. Unfortunately, my "sensible advice" was misconstrued as an invitation for him to explore these feelings with me. 

Meanwhile, Xiao Tian shifted his stare to the bundle of gnawed kebab sticks at his feet, avoiding my gaze while I tried my best to say something sensible.

"Well, what kind was she watching?" I asked.

"Gay porn," he said, his voice even lower. "Two men."

I wanted to tell him it's not unusual for some women to enjoy porn, including male gay porn, and it had nothing to do with him as a lover.

China has a rich erotic culture and, in terms of enthusiasts, it's not just a man's world.

A survey conducted by the Institute of Sexuality and Gender at Renmin University last year found young women accounted for over a quarter of survey respondents who admitted watching porn.  

I was disappointed Xiao Tian used the words "shamed" and "caught." Bottling up his emotions would only put further strain on his relationship, or so I learned from Dr Phil.

But before I spoke, I remembered the results of my last advice session. Best to stay on the sidelines, I told myself. 

"You know, I'm looking for a VPN. Which one does she use?"