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.
This is probably the most appropriate gif for this post – ever.
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!
If you don’t feel like reading some bitch’s rant or hate speech towards men. You should stop reading this post… right now.
I must confess, I’m not too fond of the male population of late, but tonight was just the pits. So I love to meet some friends for dinner and drinks on a week night, to blow off steam. You na mean? Our conversations vary from work, travels, pop culture and dating.
I’m legally obligated not to be violent. Since your ass will be jailed if you hit or kick anyone, in Japan. But my friend made a comment that made me almost backhand her. She said and I quote: “I can’t be picky with the guys I choose. I have to take what I can get.”
This just pissed me off. My friend is beautiful, funny and smart. Yes, she’s not a size zero. But fuck, I’m so tired of us (women) allowing society’s (society which is in fact: men) standards of beauty determine how we see ourselves. I want her to know that she is beautiful, and that she should value herself more, and go for the guy she wants. And not the first sleazebag that talks to her. I understand how she feels because I still struggle with this issue as well. Why don’t we as women value ourselves more?
So this got me thinking…
Why do men get to set the bar of what is hot or not?
Shouldn’t we as women set that bar?
It is our bodies!!!!
Is a size zero really that sexy?
When I developed breasts. Men just felt it was ok to be creepy. I remember an older man that was an uncle of a close friend, just ogling at me.
How could I ever forget those lust-filled eyes. His wife who was usually nice, began to act dismissive towards me. At that time I thought, so this is what its like to be an adult woman. You lose all sense of logic. Your husband is lusting after a fifteen year old child but instead of giving your husband a firm talking to, and protecting an innocent child, you choose to see that child as a threat. I knew that I didn’t want to grow up to be a woman like that, and I definitely didn’t want to marry a creep.
We need to know that we are worth more than that. I think it’s normal to feel attracted to someone of an appropriate age. And I plan to very much still check out Korean ass when I’m fifty and happily married. But you have to be respectful towards your significant other, and not drool all over yourself in front them. Decorum! You need to act appropriately.
Let’s go back in time. To the exact moment when I started hating myself. At thirteen, what did I know about the world? I was a blank page that thought life would be like the movies. One day, you see the boy of your dreams, magically one night you would confess your feelings, and he’d feel the same way too. You’d kiss and promise to be together forever. You’d graduated from university, and overnight you’d be the CEO of your own very successful company. I didn’t know what the company did, all I knew was that I was well off, and was getting married to the man of my dreams.
Puberty was seriously awkward. I had to accept that blood would be gushing from my vagina once a month. My hormones were all over the place, I would have a break out of zits on the day of the dance. I just started crying for no reason. And at my high school, the guys were real jerks.
One day while we were writing an essay or doing a worksheet or something. I don’t remember. It was about where we would be in ten years. I remember asking the teacher how to spell ‘fiancé’. And then some boy, I don’t remember his name or his face. Anyway, the little fucker burst out laughing and said, “Like you’d ever have a fiancé!” that was definitely the aha moment for me. It wasn’t a good one. It was the moment that I thought, “Ahh, I’m not pretty. So why would anyone want to marry me?” As I’m typing this post I’m searching my brain for his name, but honestly it’s not coming to me. I hated that boy for five years. I seriously hated him. I didn’t know why I hated him. I just did. And thought that every other male in my high school thought I wasn’t pretty or skinny enough to date.
Ironically, in my final year of high school, we worked backstage on the school play together. Once the play ended. He hooked his arm around my neck, and said to me and the rest of the backstage crew, “Are you ready for the after party?” I was livid. why was this arsehole touching me and acting all friendly, when we were mortal enemies. Then I had another aha moment: he didn’t remember what he said to me all those years ago. Back then, he was a stupid thirteen year old boy that didn’t really understand the gravity of his words. And I was suffering for the last five years for no reason. Instead of suffering, I should’ve just told him then and there while he was laughing at me to fuck off. Or just came up with a witty remark that would’ve made the class laugh at his stupidity.
I wish my mother encouraged me more to confess to boys. Rejection is part of growing up, and maybe back then the guy that I liked, possibly liked me back but I was just too indifferent to realise. But I guess she was too caught up in her divorce to notice that I was seriously fucked up about my body and boys. And I wish my father would’ve told me I was cute. If he did, maybe I would’ve believed it. Since he was the most important man in my life. I’m past my adolescent years where my parents were responsible for my wellbeing, so now I have to take full responsibility.
I’m not sure if my relationship with men got any better in university. I made many male friends. And started dating guys. Some were nice, but a little boring. One guy I used to liked for a while was really wishy washy about dating me and in the end called me a whore. And then there was him: I was in my last year of university sitting in the backseat of my friend’s car, and the guy I liked at that time was sitting beside me. He was a cold guy by nature. But I thought I made a breakthrough. Because he was sitting next to me. And he didn’t look disgusted. So that was a step in the right direction. Suddenly, he turned to face me, and looked me dead in the eyes, and said: “I like flat-chested girls”.
I was gutted. You’re confused, I know. Let me explain, I’m a little or should I say alotta gifted in the breast department. Thus, he was saying indirectly that I was not his type. Back then, young north was naive, cried herself to sleep that night. Not knowing that she had just been wronged. Where have their (men) manners gone? If a girl likes you, and she has yet to confess her feelings. You have no right to reject her. Yes, it might be awkward when she’s being Bella from twilight, breathing heavily in your ear, or watching you from around the corner.
But as a gentleman you endure. And when she finally gathers her courage, and confesses. As a gentleman, you put her down gently. And lie. Firstly, you thank her for her confession. And tell her that her feelings make you happy. But unfortunately, your heart belongs to another. Why do men need to make us cry? I get that rejection sucks, no matter what you say. But some guys are real douchebags about it.
Talking about douchebags. I think I’ve met the king of all douchebags. I really didn’t want to write about this. But… its time.
One morning while sitting on the curb in front of a konbini in Osaka. This was 8am, and I was eating my breakfast, waiting for my friend who needed to use the loo. A man walked by and looked at me strangely, but I was completely used to people staring at me by now.
I am a foreigner living in Japan, you know. So I didn’t really pay too much attention to him. After ten minutes he returned. Walking with purpose towards me. He said, in Japanese of course, very enthusiastically that I had large breasts. At that point, I was ready to cut a bitch. This fucker thought it was ok to approach me and disrespect me.
He didn’t stop. I pretended that I didn’t understand Japanese. Then he said in Japanese, “oh, you don’t speak Japanese.” so he changed tactics, he gestured showing that I had large breast. I said no, and tried to shoo him away. Then he said: touch, touch. Suggesting that he’d like to touch my breasts. Shocked, I said no. This guy was persistent, he then said, “Touch me”. I said no. then “suck…suck”. I got the feeling that he learnt a few English words from porn.
“No!”
“Sex?”
“No. just go!”
And so he left.
I don’t know what the fuck was going through that bastard’s mind. Thinking that I’d lie on my back in a cheap hotel with an ass like him. Do men no longer respect women? Or did they just never respect us at all. We are only their whores, baby makers, and are meant to wait for them as they search the streets for their next lay? I was ready to lay my best fighting technique I picked up from street fighter, shoryuken, on him.
How dare he make me feel so cheap? How dare he not respect me? I was pissed that after believing that I’m so strong, I was so weak in that moment. When I told my friend about it, she said I should’ve given him a taai klap (a slap in the face). I was just shocked that he had the audacity to do what he did out in the open, with so many people watching. Even if I did punch or kick him, I’d probably be convicted for violence, even though it was in self defence. I don’t think I’d ever felt as far from home as I did that day. And yet, I’m not sure if I would’ve reacted any differently back home．
After the ordeal I told one of my Japanese friends, and she confessed that a similar incident happened to her. How many more women are there that have shared our experiences or have had worse done to them? Why was it ok, for men to make you feel dirty and worthless? Women! We need to empower ourselves. We should learn self defence.
And the laws need to be changed. We need to take harassment more seriously. Our governments should punish these individuals that think its ok to harass unwilling participants. And I believe that rapists and child molesters should serve at least twenty years in prison.
Do you understand why I occasionally hate men? I think they’re lovely to look at, but they just know how to piss me off, especially when they suggest women are the weaker sex. We are strong too you know. So what if I’m scared of spiders. There is nothing wrong with preferring not to be within a five meter radius of one. So yes, I would like my father to kill them for me. And now that I live on my own, I have to kill spiders that get in the way of my happiness. I can do it for myself. But do I want to kill spiders? No, I don’t. Would I like someone else to do it for me? Yes, I do. I don’t care if you’re a man, woman or alien. I just hate spiders, and wished they didn’t exist. Does that make me a weak woman, no its makes me human.
Back to my friend. I hate that she’s beating herself about guys not liking her back but maybe he doesn’t like peas! After crying about some boy my sister gave me some good advice. I didn’t understand it at the time but now being older and a little wiser. It makes more sense. I know that this is a very hard concept to understand. But just think about it logically. What food don’t you like? Well, I don’t like peas, I can’t stand that shit. And I’m quite relieved that you won’t find that shit in Japanese dishes.
Let’s say that people are food. Maybe to him you are peas. And that has nothing to do with you. He just doesn’t like peas. So whenever the guy I like rejects me, I cry myself to sleep for a few nights, and then I just tell myself that he just doesn’t like peas. And that’s ok. I’m going to wait for someone that likes peas. I don’t want one that’s dreaming of strawberries, when I’m just mushy peas. But if I were a food, I wouldn’t be peas. They taste disgusting. I wouldn’t mind being pumpkin. *drool*. Roasted chicken, and potatoes, with a side of rice, and a dollop of pumpkin. Yum! I miss Sunday lunch.
If I could give advice to young north, I’d say: don’t wear short skirts. If people around you can easily see your knickers. It is too short! What is wrong with wearing a skirt/ dress that is five centimetres above your knee. If you like that short length, wear leggings. They’re both appropriate and fashionable. Why do you need to demean yourself by wearing ridiculously short skirts? For who? Boys? Love yourself more. Laugh more. Be silly. And I’d tell her to be brave. If you like someone, become his friend first. First check if he’s a nice guy. Then, Confess. If you’re rejected, at least you had the balls, unlike most adults, to go for what you want.
Right now, I don’t hate men. I just don’t trust a large faction of them. What I realised is that stupid boys grow up into stupid men. Your happiness should not be wavered by their words. You need to love yourself first. Every morning, stand in front of your mirror, and look at that face looking back at you and truly believe that she (YOU) is beautiful.
Living in Japan is rough. I find myself longing for a man. Some might say I’m boy crazy. I can’t deny that it’s true. South and I will talk for hours about men. Men we’d seen in the club, kpop guys and even colleagues sometimes. There is nothing else to do in this town but perv on guys and fall in love in our heads.
My fav place on this planet (since I’ve had many opportunities to go out of space and found that aliens were not exactly to my liking) to perv on guys is in Seoul— the hottie mother land. Those guys know just how to dress. They look good from the front and equally as good from the back. I’m salivating just thinking about them. It was on my first visit to Seoul that I realized that I’m an ass girl. There is nothing sexier than a man with a nice ass. And in Seoul they spend hours in the gym or on the operating table chiseling those fine asses.
It’s a shame that we don’t live in South Korea. So we have to feast our eyes on men closer to home. Let me tell you about the guys that tickle our fancy.
Shots:
He lives in SK and is so cutr! Honestly, South talks about him all the time but she doesn’t have feelings for him. Or so she says. Then when this other bitch in sheep’s clothing tried to make the moves on him, she went all tiger on that bitch’s ass. But she has no romantic feelings for the guy but happily refers to him as her little bro. Their relationship seems a little incestuous if you ask me. Maybe I’m just reading the situation all wrong. You tell me.
Museum
This is South’s sexy neighbour. She rarely sees him. So to get them to interact a bit more we are always trying to concoct plans to get her into his apartment. We have yet to come up with one that could actually work. I like this guy a lot, haven’t seen a pic of him yet. But I’m all about easy access. He lives next door. It would be like a Nodame and Chiaki. Unless he’s more like Hannibal Lector then that would just be super awkward.
Touchback
South’s sexy colleague, married of course. But such a flirt. Even though he’s Japanese for some odd reason he likes skinship. Or he knows that she gets shy when he touches her back. He’s dangerous, and yet so so so HOT!!!! South reminds herself constantly that he goes to snack bars every weekend. Don’t worry, South is a strong girl. She won’t fall for his temptations. Fighting!
Tokyo
I want to ffffaaaaqqqqq his sense of humour. Tokyo is a friend of a friend. Because some things happened, we met and I fell in love with his dirty mouth. He’s a vulgar little fucker. He spends all day talking about penises and being tied up. I think he likes a good spanking too. His facebook status updates has the ability to change a super kak day into a fucken awesome one. South wants us to hook up but I’m not a big fan of rope burn.
Old crush
My office lover, married of course. The funny thing is that he isn’t physically sexy but he has this aura of control. Like he’d know what to do between the sheets. I spent most of winter fantasizing about this man. Come on guys, I’m from a warmish country, and I needed something to warm these cold bones. Nothing got me hotter than when he called my name. Unlike the rest of my colleagues, he didn’t say “North san”, he just said “North”. His English is as dismal as my Japanese but we made it work.
Orange
A local university student I only see when I look like Tim Burton. I remember the first time I saw him. I can remember it like it was yesterday. He was riding his bicycle. And for some odd reason he smiled at me, and naturally I said, “Hello.” (Think Joey from Friends). Not my finest hour. But hey! We all have those awkward moments. Now whenever he sees me he says hello and winks but I have a feeling he’s mocking me. Bastard!
It’s fun to perv on guys and talk about them with a chingu. But at times it feels like we’re matchstick girls with no money looking at chocolate cakes through a display window. That’s just cruel. We want to eat cake too. Don’t we deserve some cake? Do sexy guys exist just to remind us that we’re poor and will never have even a little piece of chocolate cake?
Die Autocorrect 