be my valentine: you can either play the game or run away

this is what i usually look like on february 14th

this is what i usually look like on february 14th

It’s the day before valentines day and I’m hyperventilating. i can just feel the bile rising. many people don’t want to participate in this archaic tradition. girls are given red roses, and some confess their love. it’s all just a ruse used to stroke our egos. i remember the looks on the faces of the girls that got red roses delivered to their classes on valentines day. superiority. that’s what they felt. because they knew that they were wanted.  and the rest of us would just sit there hoping that one rose would come our way. even while i was hiding behind a book i too wanted a rose. just like everyone else but wasn’t about to lose face in front of rose getting girls.

i wasn’t popular, i didn’t wear a short skirt. and in the looks department, i was average. even average girls would like to know that someone is thinking of her. but looking back on those high school days when i was trying to out grow puberty. i can’t say that i’ve ever really played the LOVE GAME. sorry lady gaga.

i’ve liked many boys and men over the years but i have to admit that i’m xx years old and i have yet to CONFESS my love to anyone. i thought that once you’ve hit twenty one you’d have fallen at least once once in love.

every other girl on valentines day

every other girl on valentines day

nope not me. i always have to be different. like salmon, i swim against the stream.

lets start at the very beginning.

first love: i was six when i first met david. he was fair, had green eyes and black hair. david wasn’t the tallest boy in class but he sure was the prettiest. I think from a very early age it was clear that i was superficial. he was like an angel walking on earth. most girls my age were very open about their feelings and vied for his attention. i chose to play in the sandbox. a few weeks before the school closed, the teacher told the class that david would be moving to a knew town. i was gutted. i couldn’t imagine coming to school and not being able to see him. he hugged every girl, saying goodbye to each of them.  but i was the only one to be kissed on the cheek. that was the first time i knew what it felt like to have my heart skip a beat.  even though i knew i wouldn’t see him again, i couldn’t admit my feelings or give him a proper goodbye.  i wouldn’t say that this is my biggest regret but i think it marked the beginning of my wimp years.

it was many years before i again dared to venture in the rough sea of love. this time i was 11. after my parents divorce. we relocated to a new town and i started going to a new school.  thats when i met sebastian. he had dark brown hair, intense brown almost black eyes, and vampiric canines. on valentines day, i discovered that he was the most popular boy in school. sebastian and his best friend Rob  would compete to see who would get the most love letters. for the entire day they would receive boxes upon boxes of love letters and cards from girls form different grades. rob was far more social than sebastian and friendlier. but it was sebastian’s silent beauty that made him irresistibly alluring. where rob was a flirt, sebastian was indifferent. no one knew who he liked but what i knew for sure is that he hated me.

what was an eleven year old to do when the boy she liked hated her guts and called her cactus butt (reference:lion king. it still doesn’t make sense to me) whenever the opportunity presented itself. there was only one thing left to do. make sure that he knew she hated him right back. when he said that he liked subzero from mortal combat, i’d snort and say subzero was boring. when he bought the latest bomber jacket. i snorted and told him that he looked stupid in it. he’d antagonised me when i played soccer with the boys during lunch, so i kicked the ball in his face. I’m not sure when our hate changed to mutual respect perhaps it was when i score that beautiful goal during a game against the seventh grade boys team or when i let him cheat off my test that time he forgot to study. by the end of primary school, i was closer to him than any other girl in our class. but even then i couldn’t confess. not when he shone so bright and i… well i was just me.

lets fast forward through high school… a time when i spent most of my time reading harry potter and fantasising about orlando bloom. there was only one boy worth mentioning. he wore a speedo during a swimming and that image will forever be burnt into my retina. when my friend tried to introduce him to me… i guess my fear of shaking hands with a speedo wearing god triggered my hypothalamus and sent me running!

not my proudest moment

not my proudest moment

i quickly learnt that in the LOVEGAME, i played to win. i couldn’t handle being around good-looking guys. they made my hypothalamus act up and sent me running for the hills. so i steered clear of anyone who made me react that way. it wasn’t the most mature choice but that was the only way i could survive. to run is to lose. and i planned to win. so i decided to look for guys that had ok-ish faces and seemed interesting enough to date.

the first was an older guy in one of my university classes. he wasn’t  good looking, and was too skinny for my taste. but it was clear by the end of our first year that he wouldn’t mind hooking up me. that relationship dragged on for two more years. both of us not fully committed but too insecure to leave. that was until i met my first boyfriend. he was ok looking. most importantly he was interested in me. and we had crazy sexual chemistry. but there was something missing. i didn’t know what it was but it was there. we broke up after a few months because i cheated on him and he was too embarrassed to introduce me him to his friends. these relationships were bound to end. yes, i wasn’t sitting at home in a towelling gown guzzling down a tub of ice cream. but i felt like at least i’d be able to feel something while watching a drama. instead of passing time in a boring relationship.

there was no passion.

some heavy petting does not count as passion.

love should burn like a fire.

those are famous words said by marianne. i know that marianne in sense and sensibility chased after willoughby and had her heart broken. but didn’t she get her happy ending? she got colonel brandon. (I’m for any ending where you can spend the rest of your life with alan rickman. he looks damn good in black). yes she was stupid for chasing after the wrong guy and making herself so sick that she almost died. but she had balls. falling in love is scary. you are baring your heart and you wont know if the other person will treat it carefully or just trample all over it. i know i don’t have the balls to bare my heart. thus leading to question: did i really win in dating ok guys? what is it to win?

i didn’t date anyone else after them. was it by choice? perhaps. and then i moved to japan. the land where men happily confessed to be hentais and only wanted to date cute girls. coming to japan i found out that its pretty easy to be left the fuck alone. guys are too scared of foreigners. i can only assume it because a) we aren’t as petite as japanese girls or b) they fear speaking english or c) their mating rituals are different from ours. maybe what they classify as wooing looks like the macarena to me. i was fine for a while. but i made one miscalculation. my bucket list…

i have no idea how ‘get a japanese boyfriend’ made it on my list beside ‘see miyajima shrine’, ‘go to a host club’, and ‘pretend to be a samurai in kyoto’. but it was there. after many failed attempts to get japanese guys’ attention. i went back to feigning ignorance. when a lovely man caught my eye.

well, hello!!

well, hello!!

he was funny, and would try to speak to me even though i struggled to speak japanese and his english was nonexistent. i liked how his cheeks would always turn rosy when he tried to speak english. and how he would gush over his niece and show me pictures of her. i liked looking at his broad back and fantastic ass. and that he’d always laugh when i greeted him by just saying ‘yo’ like a high school boy. i just wanted someone to perv on. someone to look forward to seeing but you can fall so easily without even being aware of it. before i knew it, i was dreaming of how he’d hold my hand. where we would go on our first date. and i wondered if he thought i was pretty.

it freaked me out a bit.

my hypothalamus was working in over drive again.

i needed to escape danger.

warning!

warning!

i wanted to run.

i really did but i wanted to get to know him more. i wanted to make him laugh. i wanted to see those cheeks flush every time i’d tease him. (that does sound a bit sadistic) i was over come with greed. a greed i had never known. i wanted it all. is this what it felt like to be IN LOVE? this idea of love almost made me laugh. it was so stupid. these feelings i had felt ridiculous. every time he said my name, my insides would freeze. the old me would say that i lost in this LOVEGAME. i didn’t know what to do with these feelings. i felt like ariel when she first realised that she no longer had a tail but two legs.

how do i use these?

how do i use these?

but before i learnt how to stand, the rug was pulled right out from under me. (sorry for the cheesy pun).

Sebastian, "Just look at her! On legs! On human legs!"

Sebastian, “Just look at her! On legs! On human legs!”

i forgot to ask the most important question before i dove head over heels.

and the answer is: yes.

yes, he has a girlfriend.

of course someone as wonderful as him has a gf. she knew him. he laughed at her jokes. I’m sure his cheeks flushed whenever he looked at her. and she had it all. the way hollywood describes being heartbroken, i thought it would feel more broken. maybe even it would make a weird cracking noise. thats what i thought. my heart didn’t feel broken. more hollow. like there was a gaping hole in my chest where the wind would blow reminding me that nothing was there.

one can’t really describe heartbreak. twilight tried to do it by showing bella sitting at a window as the seasons passed her by.

bella just looks constipated to me

bella just looks constipated to me

i wish heartache felt like that. if any imagery could describe what it feels like to be heartbroken, i would say it felt like being a wounded dog struggling to get up. blood gushing form your chest, as it dragged its battered leg trying to find some place safe to rest. falling out of love does feel like you’re about to die. but every morning you wake up and realise that you’re still alive. one day you wake up and realise that it doesn’t hurt as much. someday in the not so distant future you look across the table and think: why didn’t i notice you before? do i like you? you won’t know. but he presents possibility. it could lead to something wonderful or to a little more heartache. i don’t know how i feel just yet. the important thing is that i am here. a little more battered than before. maybe you will try to be brave and give him handmade chocolates. even though you don’t believe in valentines day.

The Princess Diaries

Harro! So the Gayly Plan is still going on. The othergay we realised we weren’t really trying and will be stricter from now on. Somehow a picture of Zelo from the group B.A.P appeared in our chat this morning, but North said her phone was hacked.

Looking at North’s post about all these cartoon character-like people we have encountered, I was reminded of another character we have in our respective parts of Japan. No, it’s not another poor guy. It’s the Princess.

Caution: Bitchfest ahead. Shield your eeyyeess!!!

North and I both have one. In North’s words: She’s the kind of person that you’re friends with because there are only a few people around”. And we bitch and complain about them because they’re the most annoying people on the planet at times, probably here to test our patience.

So, what exactly is the Princess stereotype?

Firstly, the Princess has needs, and while everyone has needs (see previous posts), these needs are constantly expressed, sort of like a four-year-old would. Such as “I need a rice ball” “I need to sleep” “I need more clothes” “I need makeup” “I need to lose weight” and so on.

She looks at herself in the mirror, ALL THE TIME.
Fun fact: In South Korea, there is a culture of checking your reflection in any reflective surface whenever the opportunity arises. In windows, doors, lifts, the backs of spoons, cell phone screens and subway cars. For non-Koreans, this is hilarious to see. People whip out their compacts/smart phones on public transport or in waiting lines to touch up their faces. Even guys stare shamelessly at their reflections in subway doors and fix their hair. Somehow, this trend has caught onto our Princesses and they feel the need to gaze upon their visages numerous times a day. Once we nearly missed a train because Princess was adjusting someshit on her face, serious.

Princess acts cutesy to attract guys.
We live the capital of cute. The word “kawaii” is engrained in you from day one of being here, and it’s a huge part of Japanese popular culture. Everything is kawaii…someone’s hair, someone’s purse, a dog, a duck, Hello Kitty toilet paper. This morning a coworker was looking at the blank notice board saying “kawaii!” I thought it was just sleep deprivation on his part, but turned out someone stuck a creepy looking bear-shaped pin on it.

Anyway, I tend to veer off-course. Being called kawaii is pretty much the best thing a Japanese person can say to you. Princess knows this and plays up this cutesy girl image, much to the delight of fans everywhere. This includes high-pitched giggling, looking dumbfounded and acting like a child at times.
Kawaii

She also uses LOL a lot. I was going to make my hatred of LOL a whole new post, but who wants to read that. I’ll complain here and kill two birds with one stone. I think LOL is the most ridiculous acronym ever invented. I hate overuse of it, especially as a punctuation mark. My Princess uses it in place of full stops, question marks, exclamation marks, spaces, and emoticons. As an old-fashioned haha person, something about lol seems so stoic and expressionless, you know? Every time an “lol” pops up on my screen, I get nauseous. Once I actually counted the number of lolz used in a conversation and was amazed to find she used it in every single sentence!
Examples of overlol usage:
– What are you doing lol
– I’m cleaning my house lolz
– Omg lol some guy just called me
– Lolll (seemingly to emphasise the “loud” part)
And a new one:
– Have you made any plans lol??

It would be different if someone was actually laughing when typing the lol. Which, let’s be honest, is kind of spastic and weird. Replace all those with actual laughter, and see how that comes across. Right?

The princess needs things to be explained slowly. She is also genuinely confused when, on the rare occasion, she’s rejected or her flirtatious advances are not returned. This would mean the male in question is either gay or has a severe mental problem.

Lastly, the Princess must be complimented at least every day. Compliments are the compost that enables our little Princess flower to flourish and grow! North told me the other day that her princess pretends to mishear and asks for the compliment to be repeated. I had to laugh at that. Out loud.

The word Princess has also become a verb to us.

“Princessing” (v.) 1. Talking continuously about oneself in a conversation and probably forgetting the other person exists. There is no pause for input, or asking about the other at all. It’s just the act of kakking on someone (figuratively), offloading, until they’re satisfied. Any comments made by the other person are regarded as sarcastic, bitchy, or confusing (sometimes they are sarcastic…we are guilty of that).

Or, more simply, North’s definition is:

“Princessing” (v.) 2. To prattle on and on about how awesome your love life is ensuring that the person on the other side feels like shit.

These conversations are so boring and tedious and are basically about how many guys she’s shagged or how some guy dropped his groceries when they saw her, or how she bought fake eyelashes (accompanied by a self-taken photo) which doesn’t interest us in the slightest.

Yes, it sounds like we have an inferiority complex. And maybe we do. Dumbledore, what to do? Or maybe we should ask Dumbledore’s brother, whatshisname. He might have had the same problem.

Let’s eating chocolate cake togezza

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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.

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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!

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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?