Back to where you once belong

Back in my home country, visiting family, stuck on a mountain with nothing of interest to do in any direction. I got sick of the atmosphere inside my parents house and escaped outside to sit at the bus stop, doing nothing but wish that issues dealing with my family weren't so complicated making me want to constantly leave and get as far away as possible. A different country perhaps? Japan sounds good.
The sun burned down quite brightly that day. I sat under the covers of the bus stop shade and tried to look at my phone screen but there was still too much glare to see clearly and my sweaty hands were sliding across the screen; I couldn’t grip and navigate my Facebook feed. It’s probably just another bunch of photos of my sister in law’s kid sleeping anyway. Again. Kids sleep. Get over it, fuck. Eventually a girl on a motorbike stops nearby. Staying there for a long while looking around in all directions in the midday heat getting sweaty. Perhaps she was waiting for someone?

Eventually, deciding that I needed a change of scenery, I got up and started walking. As I passed the girl she looked at me and said hi with a smile, sweat pouring from her face. I returned the greeting and she asked if there was somewhere nearby where she could fill up an empty bike tank. Completely in another frame of mind having spent the last bunch of days immersed in family drama, I was a little confused. I wasn’t really ready to talk to anyone. I looked around trying to think where she could go, then figured it out. It wasn’t that far so I offered to show her. She was a slim Asian not native to my country, as it seems my country is now being over run by them. We had a pleasant conversation and the thought of meeting her again was not at the top of my mind considering I was stuck in my parents house, and traveling all the way back here to pick up more Asians was not something I wanted to do. That, and she wasn’t that cute. The above points become moot in the face of a supreme hotness. Nonetheless she suggested we go for a coffee sometime and exchanged numbers.

Later over text I agreed to meet up, reasoning with myself that it would be good to be out of the house and have conversation with someone closer to my age. After I dropped her back at her place she invited me in to hang out a bit and I met her housemates who were native locals and clearly much cooler than her. We all enjoyed chatting and hanging out until I had to go. As she was showing me to my car outside and hugging me goodbye I thought, ‘why the fuck not?’ and leaned in to take kiss. She leaned away really quickly and looked at me with a mortified expression on her face. It was a really bizarre look. Her head reeled back and her eyes shot open wide with her mouth ajar. It looked like I had just stabbed her in the stomach and she saw the blood on her hands and was just realizing it. I guess she wasn’t down. Hahaha! I drove away and later got a message saying something along the lines of, “I was thinking to kiss you goodnight but I got nervous.”

The next date at her house the room mates were both out of town and we had the place to ourselves to watch a movie. She chose some movie called, ‘500 days of summer’. It’s about a lame guy who gets a crush on a chick at his work, they hook up for dates and sex and she basically uses him as a placeholder until she finds a guy her type so she drops him and gets married to this other guy. That’s the entire movie plot in one sentence. The whole time the girl is doing her best to make it clear they are only hooking up, and when she says these things in the movie, my date turns to me and says, “What do you think about that girl? What do you think about her behavior?” And she glares at me with her eyes narrowed in carefully gauging my response. Fuck I don’t want to deal with this. “The girl is just being a hot girl. She is enjoying her life.” I state back, as always, being vague; this lets the girl choose whatever meaning from that statement that she wants. But it goes over her head…”Don’t you think that the girl is bad? She is hurting the guy’s feelings. She is just playing with him.” And she wants me to say that the girl is a slut and people should only ever be together for true love… Not going there sorry. Don’t agree. “She would hurt the guy’s feelings even more if they never hooked up. This way they can at least enjoy themselves, even if it’s only for a short time. That’s better than nothing, right?” it makes sense to me at least. Not to her though.

“But if they were never together in the first place, then he would never feel the pain of loss.” Fuck this conversation, or rather, fuck this movie for bringing up this conversation. No, that’s not enough. Fuck Hollywood and everything it stands for cause it is seriously being a cock block right now.

I try to ignore the girl’s deeper questions about love and fate and give vague half assed answers cause the topic is just no fun. At least not for me, not right now. A good topic for me would be crazy hot sex. Well, not so much as a topic, but more of an activity. Anyway, the mood is serious and tense in the room and the girl is giving me coldness. Whateeeevr chick.

Finally the crap movie ends and we decide to watch another. It’s a movie called ‘the portrait of Dorian Gray.’ The blurb says it is about a man who trades his soul to live a life of endless hedonism, a topic I have more in common with. We begin to watch, and I begin to touch her legs, and her mine. We sit so close to each other she is almost on me until I go to kiss her and she stops me and looks at me with a tense expression on her face, and chokes out some tense words, “Why are you doing this?” And I’m like, “Wuuut?”

Then she gets all Dawson’s Creek drama on my shit, “What is it you want from me? Why are you here? And what am I to you? What do I mean to you? Do I mean nothing? Am I just your ‘Summer Fling’? Or what?” Each sentence coming out with extra dramatic expression and perfectly rehearsed intonation.

And I’m like… speechless.

She moves around on the couch to lie back, propping herself up with her elbows while her legs wrap around my waist. “Look, if I don’t kiss you, will you still cum?”

I stop and reflect on this question. Will I still be able to bust my load if she doesn’t make out with me? Sure I can do that. I’ve been in this position before when a girl didn’t think that it was cheating on her boyfriend if she didn’t kiss me. I sure love making out, but if I had to choose between sex or making out, I choose sex. I’m just a little puzzled by the question and how it completely nullifies the whole teenage/midday love drama tone preceding it. My puzzled expression causes her to clarify.

“Will you still come here and see me if I don’t kiss you. Will you still come to my place and be my friend?”

Well that is completely not what I was thinking she meant. Well whatever, sure I’ll hang out if there are no kisses and no romance. We can just be friends, and I let her know that. What I don’t let her know is that as long as I am a man who is sexually attracted to her, I will still try to touch her. And that is what I do. We watch the movie for a bit more until I put my hands on her legs and she pushes me away. Then I do it again. And again. And again and again. Then she grabs my hands away and still holding on to them says in a real dramatic tone, “Stop it! Just stop it! OK? Why?! Why?!” And looks at me with a kissy face. So I jump on board with this romance tone and get all deep voiced romance guy on her and look her straight in the eyes, “Look, I can’t help it, OK? You want me to stop, but I can’t. I can’t control myself around you, OK? You do this to me. Don’t ask me to stop cause I can’t! It’s your fault for being cute.”

And she lets out a soft moan, which I interpret as my cue to start making out. I grab her a little forcefully and push her back onto the couch, hovering my face just above hers and feel her breathe. She is trembling slightly and watching me waiting for what is going to happen next as she holds onto my arms and grips me tightly holding me close in place. And there, with my face only millimeters from hers we wait, and wait, until she can wait no more and grabs my face and starts making out. There is a fine line between being a dramatic character who takes the lead and being a clueless forceful date rapist with the difference being the ability to stop and take a step back at key moments, or know when to just completely walk away. I consider myself the former and showing this might be what is turning this girl on so much.

Much more active than the passive Japanese girls who are often slow, gentle, distant and cautious to create that shy appeal they are world famous for, she is the opposite and wraps her legs around me tightly, pulls my hair and rubs her hands all over my face aggressively. I keep the mood equal and squeeze her butt. We are getting very intimate very quickly on the couch and at some point she stops me to say, “Wait. It’s not too late for us to stop.” Which I interpret as, ‘I think I want to fuck you but you are going to need to say something more to get me there.”

“If you want us to stop, we can stop. But right now, everything that is happening just feels so good and so right, I don’t think we can…”

And she looks at me, and with a really serious and intense tone she says, “Let’s stop.”

Crud… And I’m thinking that this chick reaaaaaly isn’t worth fighting for. So, I get the fuck up and walk away, towards the kitchen, to get some water and as I grab a glass she is there looking back at me looking completely puzzled. I stand there taking small sips, reflecting over how many times I have been in this push pull situation only to end up involved with a women who gets increasingly more petty and self centred as the relationship continues. My ‘high maintenance’ indicators are flashing on and off and they are shouting at full volume, “Not worth it! Not worth it!”

Then a dude shows up at the door…? The glass sliding back door, that anyone can see into. Random. It’s a sweaty drab guy looking scruffy and out of shape with a tough guy tattoo and general shit style. She goes over and starts talking to him and he is saying that he just popped by to say hi on his way home from work. I’m thinking what the fuck is going on here, but play along with it and offer the guy some water. He declines, they wrap up their short little chit chat and he leaves. She closes the door, and is like, “That was my ex-boyfriend. I have no clue why he showed up just now. Why are you looking at me like that? Are you OK?” As I stood there casually drinking a glass of water, ignoring her suggestion that I think this is an issue I care about.

She comes running over and in a small, whiney, dying cat like scrawl she says, “Why did you leave me back there before?” and fuuuck writing this all out again is making me my head spin and get annoyed at the stupidity of this weird situation inside this geek Asian girl’s place so I’m going to glaze over most of it. I reply, “Because you said stop so I stopped cause I’m not a rapist.”

“But I didn’t want you to just walk away.” We re-continue making out in the kitchen. She tells me we should go ahead and do it and leads me to her room and is really excited and is jumping around and hugging me. I ask her to wait few seconds while I use the bathroom. After, I come into the room and she has changed her mind. We shouldn’t do it. I say OK. She starts making out with me again then decides we should. I go to get a condom. She decides that we shouldn’t do it after all. I get the condom out anyway and she goes along with it. As I’m about to put it in she says stop, we really shouldn’t do it. I say, “cool.” And start laughing my ass off. She asks why I’m laughing and then grabs me and pulls me into her. We fuck. It’s not glorious, nor is it boring. It’s just old fashioned ravishing sex that we both were in need of at that moment. A few more sessions and I leave.

Now as I said, I was in my home country, and coincidentally a Japanese nurse who I was hooking up with in Japan was visiting. She decided that she would even make a trip to my hometown which is a lovely place for a tourist to spend a few days. And lucky for me, or for her, I was going to be the tour guide. When I saw her again I was so happy to see her face. She was cute and lovely and she was always so cool yet, kind to me. I wanted so badly to sleep with her, and when the chance came up, we fucked like dynamite with the curtains to the hotel room wide open and the lights on. I’m sure someone had to have seen us. We enjoyed a little romantic vacation from reality and just chilled out taking the calmness in.

She was so easygoing and fun, yet down to earth. But like almost all women I’m with, the first time sleeping with her after a long time without, is never as good as the next. And small things that I want to change in her, like the kind of clothes she wears, make me feel that there is an overall difference in our values and compatibility. Like, we are in a shop of women’s clothes and I find a long flowing strapless summer dress that starts at around the cleavage and continues to the ankles. She tries it on and it is perfect for her. I tell her I will get it for her but she declines saying, “It’s too sexy. I can’t wear this type of dress.” How can anything be too sexy? Why would anyone want to be less sexy than they can possibly be? Wouldn’t you want to be as sexy as possible for your love interest? And this dress wasn’t like it was cheap looking or slutty. What the hell? I give up.

We enjoy our time none-the-less and as I promised her, on the final evening I escort her to a strip bar where she may enjoy the best of the nude white female figure. She loves it. I enjoy it too. I like hot white chicks. Especially naked ones that are really slim, tall and curvy. Later she tells me she is inspired to work out. I absolutely support this. And on the last day as I send her off at the airport I feel a slight sense of sadness, not only in her, but myself also. Alas, we wave goodbye and I walk out the door and say hello again to being a single guy, as always.  

The other chick, the annoying Asian one wants to meet me and I agree to take her to the beach for a swim. When we meet she is really, really excited to see me and can’t get her hands off me. She wants to make out way too much, too publicly and we get into the water. While immersed I play with her pussy and make her squeal. After we get out and go to the change rooms I try to get it on with her in there but she looks at me like I have just stabbed her pet kittens to death. I try again but she is really adamant. I give up. We walk along the beachfront, admiring the architecture and she tries to bring up arguments over my choices in what I like. More than garnish an intellectual debate, she annoys me. Then acts all dramatic by walking away, waiting for me to chase after her, which I don’t. Later at dinner in mid conversation she pushes my red button and cancels all future hope of us ever hanging out again.

I’m not sure why it is, but I think there is some kind of non-Japanese-but-greater-Asia-custom for the girls to act all bossy to their guys, or create mini-dramas and have mini-tantrums to make the guy be all like, ‘Sorry Chai-Lao Ngen baby! I didn’t mean it that way! I swear! Don’t be like that. Forgive me!” as he chases after the girl who is strutting away with her nose turned up sticking out her mini-titties as best she can while the guy is holding her purse for her and runs in ushered little tippy toe steps… Fucking gay.

Anyway, as I said we are at dinner and our mini-drama moment arises. It’s a nice Italian place that is semi outdoor allowing us to enjoy the ocean sounds and the cool sea breeze. The food is great. I have enjoyed most of my food but she can’t seem to eat any of hers for whatever reason. I think she had like two bites. She says she is trying to put on weight cause she can’t eat enough and I’m like, “You aren’t really helping yourself now. This is probably the best tasting food you will eat this week.” She declines the food. Whatever. I eat it. We chat about music and live shows we have been to and what music she likes and she tells me that she likes the drummer from Man-O-War. And I’m like, “whaaaa?” and just as my ‘WTF?’ face appears, she pushes the red-button. The uncoolest of the uncool things to do on a date. Her right hand raises up off the table and comes down with some amount of force in one smooth motion right smack bang onto my right cheek. SLAP! I hear the clap and I feel the stingy burning sensation and know for sure that as I sit there at this outdoor Italian gourmet establishment, the afterglow of enjoying a succulent meal is replaced entirely by the glow of a red hand mark on the side of my face, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up, not with anger but extreme embarrassment as I feel all the other patrons and staff turn to look, and hush their conversations to listen in. Did she really just slap me? Why? This is unexpected, intolerable, inexcusable and completely unforgivable.

She blurts out, “Why are you looking at me like that?! I said I like the drummer of Man-O-War, not the band! And so what if I did like the band!? Don’t you look at me like that just because I like something that isn’t cool enough for you!”

I feel my expression change, as if I had just remembered something highly amusing and I’m trying to hold back the laughter as to not appear crazy. But I know I am smirking and at the same time my eyes have narrowed in on her like a lion about to pounce. She blurts out again, “So now you are looking at me like that! Well who are you? And who do you think you are?”

And at this moment I know just how much of a vindictive asshole I am in the way I so suddenly know how to react to create the most damage. Instead of getting pissed, I very calmly and in a controlled and clear tone, get boss on this bitch and tell her how it is, “I don’t care about the band, Man-O-War. I have never heard their music and have absolutely no opinion on them. I only know their album covers, which appear to be old school metal. I was surprised that you know who they are let alone have the opinion of them and their drummer. And that is why I had that expression on my face. But for you to slap me, across the face, for some random assumption of me, in a classy restaurant, is not the way to behave as a lady. I think it is time for us to leave. I’m going to get the check.”

And I stand up and walk over to the counter where the young waitress is looking at me with wide eyes either from amusement at the weird little Asian girl restaurant slap, or from admiration of me laying it down real and keeping it cool. We take a walk to the car and she takes my hand which I reciprocate while making some light-hearted chit chat and as we get to her place she is asking me about when we will next meet. I give vague responses on uncertain times and kiss her on the lips to say goodbye without inviting myself inside. All as part of the plan I made the very moment I was slapped across the face, for looking at her funny. Because I know, that the most evil and hurtful thing I can do to her, is not get angry, not buy into drama and play along with it, not get involved in some scene and not get petty about the small things. The worst thing for this girl is to be taken on a romantic date by a tall gentleman who turns her on, enjoys adventurous sexual moments in semi-public locations, has a good conversation and a laugh, drives her around and pays for everything, exhibits all the roughness and excitement of a rebel, but all the admirable and controlled qualities of a gentlemen who you could trust raising children with, deals with her attitude in a calm way and kisses her goodbye like it was all forgotten. Only to never hear from him again, and never know why. That chance fate encounter on the street disappears into meaninglessness, and the memory she has is not of a bad angry argument, but only of a wonderful time, with a kind man that she won’t ever get back. That is how far ahead I planned the moment I got that slap. That cold, hard, calculating side of me, makes me very fucking scared of who I am right now.

Sure enough I got some more messages from her asking what is going on, when are we going to meet, am I angry, what happened. Much much later after I had returned to Japan I got a message from her saying that she went past the place where we first met on the roadside and thought about how strange fate is in how it works. What was the meaning of us ever meeting? What was the meaning of our fate? And why did everything we had between us, after all we had been through, disappear into nothing? I looked at this message thinking, “All we have been through? Two and half dates and an orchestrated attempt at a teenage drama? Grow the fuck up!” And I laughed at the ridiculousness of it. Later I tried to see how the nurse was doing in her hometown and sent her messages that gave me no reply. Went to check out her wall on facebook to see if everything was OK and found out that she had unfriended me without explanation and I laughed at the ridiculousness of that also.

An adult video star who is literally the fantasy woman of thousands of men falls through my fingers and I don’t care. I get slapped by a girl and my response is to destroy her heart and laugh at it. Probably one of the nicest and most caring women I have felt slightly close to in years removes me from her life without explanation and I find it amusing… what the fuck is wrong with me? What happened to my life? What happened to my soul? I used to be kind and care about people. I was idealistic and romantic. I used to dream of having a nice wife who I could talk to about anything and mess around with and make laugh. Now all I care about is the next body I lay before I move on to the next. I’m a vampire. A soulless, heartless, callous, pale and decrepit vampire that sucks the life out of everything he touches. But I’m aging unlike a vampire and can see my reflection and the person I see in the mirror is not someone who I’m sure I can respect anymore. What happened to my emotions, my pain and my sympathy? The genuine warmth and valour I had? I’m bitter and jaded from spending too much time seeing only the worst in other people and numbing myself from the pain that I must sense at some level somewhere deep inside.

Six months ago after this went down I felt it was time to get some perspective. I stopped chasing girls. I stopped getting laid. I went on a couple of friendly dates and never followed up on most of them with the view that I wouldn’t be the old me. I would act with the view of dating someone long term. The one girl who I did want to see again lead me on for a couple of dates and now she has disappeared. I think she was married anyway. Again this didn’t hurt me and send me into some kind of self doubt where I wonder what I did wrong like I would have 5-10 years ago. I’m past that now. And the result of all this is that I haven’t been laid in 6 months. That is like 2 years in dog years, and 10 years in playboy years. I wonder if and how it is changing my perspective. I think it is. Now when I look back at some of my actions while I have been in Japan I feel a deep sense of regret. I've wasted far too much time allowing myself to be used by superficial cold judgmental women who have made me become just like them.

Sometimes the loneliness is intolerable, but I tolerate it. And I day dream, of a better life, and a better time where all my being is stable and in check. Who I wish to be and who I really am inside is aligned perfectly. Honesty and warmth radiates from me. I am on a Yacht sailing away with my girl in her skimpy bikini and I’m not afraid to tell her I love her because I somehow know she won’t disappear on me suddenly for no reason. My brothers are there the sick one isn’t dying of cancer anymore. His body is able and his beautiful kids and wife are all having a good time. I tell him to stop eating cause he is a fat chump, even though he is nowhere near fat, and he tells me to eat some food and stop hiding behind the chopsticks cause I’m that thin. Tensions between other family members and my mother's bimbo tendencies and crazy dramatic attention seeking behavior is non-existent. Everyone is happy to just to be chill. The Yacht is our paradise. I cook food for everyone in my kitchen that isn’t some microscopic Japanese kitchen and can handle food for more than two people, and we enjoy it while the sun goes down. The TV is huge and the nephews are playing games on it, while the grown ups talk about business, politics, music, art and other grown up stuff. In the morning I wake to a heavy schedule of; eating food, drinking coffee, reading news, working out on my yacht gym, creating artistic abstract sculptures from wood or stone, playing guitar and learning piano, in between surfing reef breaks and hiking on hidden islands of the pacific. In this dream, I won’t be alone and will care about someone aside from myself. My girl is just as beautiful the next day just as much as the first and we make each other laugh and smile while inspiring each other to be better than the day before. It’s a beautiful world, the view is so clear and the water feels so good. The kids laughter sounds so happy and carefree, the sun is so warm but the breeze so cool and every sound I hear tastes like success and everything I see, smells like victory.

Real life Porn Japan

Japan makes a lot of porn. Most of it is low budget. The guy sets up a couple of cameras and lights, either in his apartment or a hotel room, and films it, later editing between first person point of view and standstill cameras. Minimal location booking costs, no support crew and very little post production is necessary. The low overheads and quick production time have allowed the Japanese porn industry to become prolific in the amount of titles they release each month. So much so that every time I look online at porn there are a ton of new videos released with a ton of new and different girls. Every month the DVD sellers shelves are restocked with a slew of new product, each DVD jacket sporting a different girl to the next. So many DVDs and so many new girls. Where do these girls come from? What is their story? Why are they doing porn? And considering the numbers of girls that are actually prolific in making videos, how many one off performers are there? How many Japanese girls go through a secret porn stage in their lives?

I had heard stories about guys who found out their girl was in porn. This one guy recounted the time he was doing a study abroad in his college days. He was with some Japanese guys and they had missed the last train so they all crowded into an internet café lounge seat and threw on some porn. As they watched, one of the guys said, “Hey Taro. That girl looks an awful lot like your girl. Wow! She is almost exactly the same. Hang on. Is that her? That’s her!” They looked back at Taro, with his face motionless, eyes glazed over, looking at the screen without reaction. Suddenly he stood up and walked out without saying a word. The guys not knowing what to do let him go. Had their friend just seen his own girlfriend having her clothes removed and a large vibrator placed on her nether regions? A little later they went outside to see if he was OK and found him in front of the convenience store with a freshly bought bottle of whisky in one hand, the bottle cap in the other and the bottle already one third empty. His face remained still and motionless until the alcohol set in and he broke down into tears. He spent the rest of the night getting increasingly drunk and inconsolable.

Another time something hit a little closer to home where one of my friends was banging one of the chicks in his salsa class. She was an office worker who had also done time in the Japanese National defence force. According to him she was a rough player in the bedroom who liked to either dominate or be dominated physically. For her sex was more than just sex and took on a different role where they could both explore much more than just physical attraction. Roles were taken and times she used this to tease and torment or submit in retreat. By chance not long after they ended their relationship he came across a random video of a girl who he thought looked a lot like her. He brought it over, we ordered pizza and a small handful of us sat around watching this chick, and various other girls get banged by various guys in various obscure situations. He could identify a few very key features of her beyond reasonable doubt and felt certain it was her. For us it was a bit of a laugh, but I’m not sure how my friend really felt. Understanding what it is like to see someone you slept with, sleep with other guys seems too surreal to comprehend. And she did it for money, not love or lust. What does that make her? What kind of judgments should we make of a person who does that? The part of the situation that left the strongest impression was that this was her only video performance. How many girls have I been with? What if one of them had been in a video without me knowing it? How would I feel about that and if it were a girl I was seriously dating would having something like in her past make me rethink my long term future with her? At the time it drove me a little suspicious and I quizzed the hell out of my then girlfriend. “Have you ever been a model? Have you ever done any sort of performing before a camera? Have you been in porn? Are you a pornstar? No? Have you been propositioned for such work? What did you say to them? What did they say to that? Interesting… I see.” And I continued until I got on her nerves and she told me to fuck off…

I could never understand what my friend went through inside his head that day when he found his girl appear in a cheap porn movie. I could never understand what it would be like to see a girl I like, or used to like, or at the very least, a girl I had slept with, appear in porn. That is until now. When a prolific porn star approached and seduced me.

The following memoir is a recollection longer than my usual posts.

It was a Sunday afternoon. I had eaten nothing all day, my stomach was empty and body lifeless and deficient of energy. I had a date at my place in the evening which I was looking forward to yet also needed to do some grocery shopping for. In the meantime I would leave my single cell apartment of urban Japan solitary confinement, go out, get lunch, buy some groceries and then get started with the food prep. As I looked in the mirror on the way out I remember very clearly thinking that I looked kinda different to normal. I felt unusually confident, and if you will, expelling some kind of aura. Which is different to how I usually think. Usually I think I need to shave, do something about the bags under my eyes, get a haircut or at the very least restyle my hair.

A short walk to the local station where I would travel to the next express stop to find a steak restaurant; I was contemplating sauces, in particular blue cheese sauce, or honey mustard. My serious and refined musings on this delicate gourmet topic were interrupted briefly by something of almost equal importance: a pair of female legs with knee high stockings; solid black with a fine red lace hem, walking past me on the train platform in rather close vicinity. My head turned to follow and I thought briefly about striking up a conversation with said pair of pins, but declined because I had no energy and really, I was pretty much content envisioning sweet chilli sauce basting a tender juicy medium rare steak while looking at hot legs.

The legs walk past again, this time with face directed at me. I gaze, unmoving. They stop a short distance away and turn back around. I’m still looking at the girl, a little too obviously, but I kinda don’t care, so I keep looking. Her face is cute with her eyes big, round and her nose more defined than a typical Japanese nose. I notice her eyes are fixed in my general direction and she moves closer. And a little closer still. At which point I start getting concerned. I’m not sure what is happening here. Then she walks up and stands about 2 inches from my face and asks in Japanese, “Do you understand Japanese?”

To which I reply, “Ummm aaahhh… Yeah… I guess… sorta…”

But really in my head I’m thinking something more along the lines of “HOLY DAMN SHIT GIRL! YOU ARE HOT AS FUCK! OF COURSE I SPEAK JAPANESE!!!! YEAAAAAAAAHHH!”

To which she says, “I don’t have any foreign friends. Please be my friend!”

Genuinely taken aback I fail to speak confidently. I say, “Who me? Ah.. I guess so. Um sure. I mean… if that’s ok with you… is it OK?”

At this moment in my head I’m thinking, “I WIN!” But it’s not guaranteed, so I try to be chill and play it cool. Just let the wheels roll in motion and don’t fuck anything up and certainly don’t let her self sabotage this since that is the higher likelihood. I start thinking seriously about logistics. What time is it now? What time is that other girl coming over tonight for the date? Will I have time to make this happen with this girl now? Should I stretch it out a bit. Hmmm…. I’m going to be leaving the country for about two months after next week so I better make this happen ASAP. Wait. Reel back. Girl is in front of you. Speak.

She looks at me, standing there with her wide eyed cute baby face and bouncy brown curls of hair and coat that extends down to just above her exposed white thighs. Eyes growing wider she lets out a laughing smile and exclaims, “Sugoi kakkoi!” A phrase that means she admires my appearance. Oddly, I get a little disheartened at hearing this because it almost always turns into the girl not seeing me as a person and more of a novelty or obscurity that they point and comment at, only to shortly move along and leave behind reminiscent of a trip past a pet shop window.

Despite my growing dubiousness of this girls intentions in approaching me I reply in my continuing fake shy tone, “Ahh.. really? Haha? Well, I don’t think I’m so good looking though.. Haha.. wow, I’m embarrassed now. Haha… I’m not used to cute girls saying that.”

And there I laid a sneaky hidden compliment that shows I am interested while simultaneously giving her a sense of exclusivity by appearing awkward, unassuming, dumb, blond and easy to please. The biggest lie I tell the world over and over again.

“I really admire foreigners. They are so cool. I want to be one too.” She is gushing in a contained way. The words themselves are passionate but don’t match the expression on her face which lacks any kind of emotion. Eyes fixed still, a faded smile and eyebrows perfectly in place. “Foreign people are so cool. Japanese are boring. In fact, I hate Japanese men...”

…..And the entire quiet train platform, that is full of mostly Japanese men turn to glare….

It’s probably a good thing I’m too self-centred to care about what anyone else thinks at that moment otherwise I’d be freaking out. None-the-less, I advise her to keep her voice down. She does not give a fuck. Absolutely no fucks were given by her as she continues at the same volume discussing her distaste for the local men and praising my eye color and other facial features.

The train arrives and as to not draw too much attention inside the carriage to the obviousness that we only met 20 seconds ago and are just getting to know each other thus inviting curious eyes of surrounding passengers which will probably make her uncomfortable, I quickly change topic and begin talking about how I really like steak and how I love the steak sauce at a particular restaurant. My distraction is successful and conversation continues as I gradually inquire her destination: same as mine, and casually invite her to join me for lunch. She has already eaten but I offer she have some cake and she finds herself asking 3-4 times if it is OK. I reassure her it is OK, 3-4 times. I need the company, if not I will die of loneliness.

At the restaurant she takes off her large tan color winter jacket to reveal absolutely huge tits that are disproportionately large in comparison to her tiny waist and stick thin legs. The waitress, a lady whose face I am familiar with, having come to this place a fair few times, drops our menus by and as she is taking our drink order I notice a rather odd atmosphere emanating from her. Her face is directed away from my date, with the imposing cleavage and cute face, and she speaks to her, quick and abruptly, while glancing at her sideways. My date asks the waitress in the same pained and forced tone that she has been addressing me with so far, “Would it be possible, by any chance to only have some tea to drink. Is that OK? Only tea?” As if that might be out of the question when it obviously isn’t. The waitress glances across at me with eyebrows furrowed in a “WTF?” expression then quickly says, “Of course, ‘just tea’ is fine.” My date checks again with the waitress and also me, if it is OK to only drink tea. I field the awkward question and watch on, thoroughly amused at this woman’s obvious distaste for bimbos.

Conversation is a little slow coming as I still have no energy having not eaten all day. The girl opposite me has her cigarette lit but is doing very little smoking. I watch her sit motionless as the smoke rises from the end, with the ash portion becoming longer and longer. Her eyes are glazed as she looks into the distance, still, with skin white and porcelain in tone, facial features balanced and symmetrical giving the impression of a doll. It’s a unique view and at the same time, a little disturbing. I sip my cola and watch, waiting for the ash from the tobacco, which has now grown half the length of the whole cigarette, to crash onto the table. She takes a final sharp drag and dabs it out carefully into the ashtray before that occurs and I’m a little let down.

Gradually I start to find out a few things about this girl that are shaping our interaction. First, she likes my appearance. She makes a strong case for this by repeating it many times and by also assuming that I am a high brand model, which makes me uncomfortable and suspicious. I think there is advice out there for women that says, “If you want to play a guy into your hands you have to first play dumb and second stroke his ego.” I find that blatant tactic to manipulate a little insulting to my intelligence and rather ineffective. Rather than stroke a guy’s ego, you should directly stroke his penis; much quicker and much more effective. To put her opinion of my looks into perspective, recently I put my photo on a dating site and the women there rated me out of 10, a little less than 6. So for most women, I’m not even passable with a few finding me barely passable. Which gives me great hope and confidence in my sense of humor and good cheer because it must be doing something to get me by! I also find out that she used to be an idol, which is a Japanese term for a photo model. Different to a fashion model who would do work which showcases clothing for a heavily female audience, an idol’s work revolves around pure vanilla titillation with girls doing photo and video shoots in revealing clothing to appease the mostly male audience. Probably similar to a sports model who appears in men’s magazines like FHM and such.

As she tells me this I exclaim, “Wow, that’s cool! All girls want to be models and you got to be one. Isn’t that great?” She doesn’t think so. Her face turns serious and distant and she begins to look down. “The lifestyle I had was very tiring. I got a lot of money and became rich quickly but I spent it all carelessly. The work was hard and long so I was never able to relax and always had to travel and go to places like Okinawa and work.”

Hearing that she was an idol made me want to ask 1000 questions but looking at her expression I see it’s getting her down so I try to turn the tone up. “Okinawa? That’s cool! I’ve never been there but I heard the beaches are beautiful and the sea is nice and warm.”

She continues in her gloomy tone, “That might be true, but I hardly ever got a chance to enjoy it. I was always working.” I notice now the forced voice that she was talking with before completely disappear. This would be what I consider her finally being real with me and speaking the truth. And while I am happy to hear this and becoming more engrossed in the candid view of life as an idol, I think about the outcome this topic has on the date itself. This is what I consider to be one example of a girl self sabotaging a date. They bring up a topic that is painful for them and they talk about it. The guy is kind enough to hear it out without interruption and in effect he assumes the role of a counsellor rather than a cool guy or a fun date guy. The girl leaves the date feeling down after having relived the hard memories, with the impression that the guy is just no fun, and without pinpointing any reasons they declare that the date, ‘just didn’t feel right’ and never agree to go on any further dates. Sure, its great to be honest with people and talking about real topics with someone is great and can lead to some real bonding and connections; I just don’t feel that we have seen each other in a brighter light yet and don’t want either of us to be left with a single impression. Not prepared to risk taking on the sexless role of the counsellor like I have so many times before, I take the safe option of ceasing my questions and making the topic lighter. “You went to Okinawa and you didn’t once get in the water?”

“Well, I did get in the water?”

“How was it? I bet it was warm.”

“Yeah. It was warm.”

“Did it feel good?”

“Yes!”

I smile and say in a loud voice, “Well that’s good!”

She giggles. Sabotage averted.

Toward the end of the lunch I suggest that we hang out again and she agrees. I tell her that I would be sad if I never saw her again and want her to kiss me goodbye, on my cheek. A cheek kiss will not suffice and she would rather the mouth, so we make out in the restaurant at lunch time, and I feel this pretty girl’s lifeless limp cold lips on mine and I somehow feel cheaper as a result.

On my way home I grab the food needed for my dinner date that night and prepare it hoping that it will lead to me getting lucky with a different girl who I had met a week or two earlier. Heading back to the station at 6pm I coincidentally notice the ‘idol’ who I had met just earlier for lunch leaving the train station, and I avoid her in case the evening’s date appears and we all have one big weird rendezvous. Very surreal as just as she has walks by without noticing me, the evening date does appear and I quickly usher her in a different direction and we take an obscured path back to my house. Fuck that was close. It's a small world.

Things seem to go well with this girl and I guess she likes me because we end up spending most of the date making out. Her lips are soft and warm and when she touches my face it feels real. Eventually we end up naked and fucking on my futon. While I am inside her after some time everything suddenly feels so good. It is amazing for both of us and just as I hit my climax I get the feeling that it feels suspiciously too good and the reason for that is concerning. After I cum inside her I pull out to find a broken condom… And I panic. Not the kind of post coital experience you want if you are a girl looking up to see a guy swearing in a foreign language… After talking things over we both calm down and find that she is not in the fertile phase of her cycle, and we fuck again. During a date with her the following weekend I find out that we are pregnancy free.

The following day I arrange to meet the idol at a café in our neighbourhood. When we meet I find her slightly hungover, in a single white lacey one piece dress. She asks what we are doing and I suggest a walk, with the subtle plan to direct us en route via a river ending up past the park and conveniently at my place. She cuts through my plan in one crude slash saying, “Where are we walking? I want to go to your house. Let’s go there.” And she grabs and hugs my arm. I am down with this girl and more than anything, I am down with her thinking. We chat as we head to my place.

Inside, conversation changes topic to that of a more adult tone. She asks about my preference for Japanese girls, do I like them and have I ever slept with one before? I affirm simply that my last girlfriend was Japanese and during the time I have been here I dated mostly Japanese girls with a only a couple foreign since I hardly get the chance to meet them here, thinking that should be enough detail to keep things moving smoothly. She wants to know more, about what my type is. I keep the description vague, until she inquires into what porn I watch, Japanese or foreign… And light bulbs start flashing on and off inside my head. Getting a little curious at the direction and intent of where this is going I answer truthfully, that I watch both porn made locally in Japan and abroad. She raises the topic of which girls of the Adult Video (AV) genre I prefer, and I stumble. I want to both appear open minded enough to discuss this topic in as much detail that she sees she needs to, but not a sleeze who watches way too much porn. It’s a precarious balance that I negotiate by saying that I don’t really know many names but if I saw a face I would remember it. She asks me if I know Aoi Sora, a mega star that has a very approachable cute girl next door appeal. I tell her that I do, but I’m not such a fan, totally true. She on the other hand is a gushing fan. She loves Sora and even bought her full color bio book and was lucky enough to meet her in the flesh and have it signed at an adult industry exhibition. I playfully tease her for this calling her an AV geek. She loves all the big porn names but was especially enamoured with Aoi as she was able to make her showbiz career extend further than porn and moved into TV and music. Actually, I have one of her musical videos linked on this blog. The idol in front of me quizzes me more on which girls I know and like and she starts getting excited when I know who they are. Two things start becoming very apparent to me: this girl really knows a lot about porn and obviously has something she wants to say to me, the other being that we both watch way too much porn.

Eventually we start making out and she stops me to ask about my feelings for her. I tell her that she is really unique and I want to get to know her more, also, she is really cute and…actually, I think I like her. She is happy, and we kiss some more but stops to ask me if I will accept her, even though she is an idol. I tell her that if she can accept me, a foreigner, then I can accept her. And there we lay, two dishonest lying sluts, deluding to ourselves that we are different to who we really are. More special and unique, more beautiful, more lovely, more deserving of attention and much more clean, but most of all, that we actually have deeper feelings, that we are whole and profound in emotion, and the thing that unites us is a universal pull of love and fate, and despite our obscurities, we accept each other.

She asks if it is OK for her to take off her dress. I’m generally easy going and don’t vocally oppose the requests of others, this is no exception. She takes off her dress and I admire her grey knee high socks and pink dotted white underwear that covers her soft white skin and again, her disproportionately massive white breasts. I pull her body close to me in a quick motion, not bothering to be gentle yet completely contradicting that by softly placing my hand on her cheek while I make out with her, then running it down her neck, using my index finger to draw a line from the center of her collar bone down through the gap between the center of her breasts and to her naval. Opening my hand I press my palm on her stomach and move it to her waist, squeezing it lightly and continuing my journey to her smooth ass, which I grab firmly to pull in closer still, placing her on my crotch, in one quick movement. Her pussy is now in indirect contact with my cock and although I still have not touched her tits I will surely get there. “May I take my bra off?” She asks in her familiar pleading tone, very reminiscent of something I would see in a Japanese porn. They finally make an appearance, those amazing tits, and I am happy to have them push up against my chest as we make out in an upright sitting position with her sitting atop of me, her pussy still grinding on my hardening cock. Keen to keep things moving forward she asks again, if it is OK for her to suck my dick...totally porn... And she pushes me down and pulls off my jeans and underwear, doing things with her mouth that I honestly haven’t felt before. After some time she takes the next step for me and asks if she can ride my cock. We fuck, and I guess either the hotness of her this girl, the situation being so graphic, or how good the preceding headjob was, I have a very short fuse to play with, and explode in my condom, way too early for her to have enjoyed any of it much.

We hold each other and she seems unconcerned about my shit effort, claiming that she has not had sex for as much as two years. Which seems unlikely. Absurdly unlikely and mostly just blatant bullshit. I roll with the charade as I have so far and enquire deeper into her work as an idol. “You know before we were talking about AV… I was wondering, that maybe... you know how you said you were an idol… Was it just an idol? Or is it possible you were also in AV?”

She is looking away, and silent. Still holding her and playing with her hair I give her a quick hug and say, “It’s OK, you can tell me anything.”

She takes her time to respond and slowly says, “Will you still like me if I say yes?”

“Sure I will”

“Then yes, I was in AV.”

I keep holding her and I secretly get really excited cause I want to ask her tons of questions about the biz. She tells me some inside stuff. The studio she worked for was the same as Aoi’s. They gave her a phone to use and an apartment to live in with all the expenses paid for. She started AV at the same time she was in college and eventually stopped going and dropped out completely as her life had been taken over by it. They gave her a porn name, which was basically a random Japanese name. I ask her the Kanji for it and she helps me enter it into my computer’s search engine. I press search but she says I can’t look at anything other than the Wikipedia article about her. She goes on to tell me that at the beginning the work was OK but it just got so tiring with having to do scenes with more and more guys and they would cum inside her and that was hard to deal with emotionally. One day after surviving about a year in the business she just left the apartment and never came back. The studio tried to contact her but eventually gave up. She told her parents everything and they enforced a strict curfew on her. She was never allowed to leave the house for more than a short time and never at night. Through all this I could feel that she was finally speaking to me without the forced pretensions she was speaking with before, but to me there was still something about her that was way off balance. Physically she was an adult, mentally she was like a child, but emotionally, she seemed more like a battery powered toy doll with a pre-recorded voice. And it was creepy.

Undeterred, I made love to her again and she asked if she could call me her boyfriend and I call her my girlfriend. I thought that it would suit us well and we would make a fine couple; a burned out pornstar and a weary jaded foreign playboy. She left me with a smile and a wave and I went back to the computer screen to look at her finest work. And there it was, with no chance of uncertainty, the girl who was now my girlfriend coughing, spluttering and almost in tears as a number of random men jizz their loads on her face… I felt uncomfortable and really, really sorry for her.

I would have liked to have continued seeing her nonetheless, but as I said earlier I was to leave the country for an extended period. She continued to reply to me slowly for almost 6 days. But I knew anyway that girls like that don’t last long without constant attention. There really was no reason for her to be waiting around for me when she had no real certainty I would be back, and there are plenty of other guys out there. So like many girls had done to me before, and in turn me to them, she simply told herself that it was over and didn’t bother replying to me. I felt little sense of loss for my “girlfriend”, because for me, if I ever want to experience being with her again, I can simply buy or rent her DVD and get her very own personal masturbation device that is modelled on the shape of her pussy and bask in the glory of Japan’s fucked up adult culture.