It’s been a long time since our last blog post, and we really have no excuses. Maybe our lives have not been exciting enough to write about?
Well recently I had the opportunity to visit a Japanese city for a business trip, and for me this is a big deal. I was pretty overwhelmed, as always in particular when it came to combinis (convenience stores). Yoh! They really stay open 24 hours! And you can pretty much get anything there, including disposable underwear and REAL melon-flavoured melon pan! People of the mainland, do not take your combinis for granted (that includes you, N).
Anyways, it was the weekend of Halloween and while my fellow foreigners went to a bash in the woods, I chose to go to a bar. I don’t do Halloween or woods. In SA, we don’t really go trick-or-treating and stuff (trust me…it won’t go down well) although you do get art students and the like dressing up as zombies and making like they’re bleeding for the night and drink a lot in the name of Halloween or Freddy Kruger. It just doesn’t appeal to me. Although usually, if push comes to shove I can find something in my cupboard I can pass off as a costume, which says a lot about my general dress sense.
So I ended up with Princess at a bar/club sort of thing with only Japanese and Koreans, who all seemed to be uni students. I don’t have much experience partying (or even socializing, for that matter) with young Japanese people, which is very sad, so I would have been extremely socially awkward if we hadn’t drank copious amounts of soju-beer-coke cocktail before arriving.
Anyways, I was pretty confident. We opened the door and were like, hello we come in peace. The people in there were a bit gobsmacked to see these two random foreign chicks.
The girls were all dressed in similar Lolita-style costumes that made me, in my tipsy state, really disturbed. I remember just staring at them all sitting in a row. To me, they looked confused, dumb, and a bit creepy. Eventually I actually asked a guy, “why are they all dressed alike?” to which he responded, “Oh, there’s only one costume shop in town.” I guess I tried to empathise after that.
As luck would have it, a Korean guy who Princess met on the internet and shagged in Korea happened to be at the party! I’m not making this shit up. And I actually mentioned this multi-lingual Casanova in a previous post. His good-looking yet douchey friend joined us, who spoke great English. Of course they loved Princess, because apparently word got around that she has an open-vagina policy. Whoops! Was that too bitchy and inappropriate? I don’t care. I’m also on a lot of flu medicine as I type this, and bitchiness may be a side-effect.
Anyways, after helping myself to the free tequila shots courtesy of these two dudes, I went outside to visit the combini and to sit outside the club and think about life.
Now since I was sitting alone on the steps in the dark, guys actually came up to chat, using the few bits of English they remembered from Junior High or whatever. Now I know it sounds dodgy – drunk foreign girl sitting alone outside a club. However, I’m pretty sure I didn’t look like a prostitute or anything. For one, I was eating an onigiri (rice ball) or something, and thinking about life, so I’m sure I looked pensive and intelligent with a love for Japanese combini snacks. Yes, I’m pretty sure…
Anyways, I don’t really remember what went on, but at some point a dude sat next to me. He looked really young and was extremely cute. He made some conversation and before I knew it, I grabbed his thigh, which was right next to mine.
Okay, before you judge me:
– His thigh was right there
– I was drunk
– He was friendly and didn’t seem to mind
– I’m extremely deprived
– Holding onto his thigh stabilized me a bit
Basically … I was latched onto his thigh like a monkey. Like a sad, deprived foreign monkey. He was my banana. And the banana was speaking but I really don’t remember what was going on. It was just really comforting to just sit there gripping this strangers’ thigh. Whatever game I once had was long gone – this is what I had resorted to.
Think like a lady, act like a monkey.
After leaving him to visit the combini, I returned to the bar and he found me sitting in a chair. It seemed he remembered the magical thigh-gripping time we shared outside. He told me he was twelve years old. For a second I believed him, but turned out he was 21. Relief! Legal. Channeling my inner monkey yet again, I latched onto his arm, and he sat with me for the rest of the night, being amazed by the fact that I was foreign and maybe a bit animalistic.
Maybe I was being overly forward and reinforcing the stereotype that foreign girls are sluts or whatever. At that point I didn’t give a shit.
Tips for Think Like a Lady, Act Like a Monkey **
– Your grip should not be threatening or painful. Don’t attempt this if it’s Halloween and you’re dressed as that female version of Wolverine (forgot her name, sorry).
– Don’t drape yourself over him. Monkey grip ONLY!
– Monkey grip should not be accompanied by crazy eyes.
– Some banana conversation might break the ice if things are initially awkward
– Try not to grab…other things. Keep it classy. You’re a strong, sexy, classy monkey!
– Make sure you’re
**Results may vary