26
Jul
18

Japanese Summer Mating Calls

The last week of July brings Japan’s hottest summer sun blazing down onto Tokyo.  The familiar mating calls of the cicada are singing loudly outside. “Mee Mee Mee Meeeeee”  It reminds me of Japanese summer when I was a child, I used to pick these giant fly looking insects right off the tree bark and put them in my hand.  They were gentle and calm. They didn’t fly away and their wings were soft just like the feathers of birds. It still amazes me that these gigantic insects don’t create any kind of adverse reaction in me.  They are peaceful, helpful and wonderful creatures that don’t harm, annoy or spread diseases, so they are likeable

 

to many humans. They spend 17 years sucking sap from trees under the earth and emerge to spend the last month of summer crying out for a mate throughout the days of August.  When the song stops, millions of bodies pile up on the ground, fertilizing the same trees and plants that they fed upon and the other millions of young cicadas waiting their turn to molt and fly away into adulthood in the next years. This is the cycle of nature running its course. I spied upon these lovers on the ground and pet the wings of one of them to see if they were alive or dead.  I think that they were dead because they were silent and did not move away from my poking but I still am not sure. Today, a man at the elevator in one of the offices I was teaching corporate lessons at said Hello to me. I was taken aback because I have pretty much become accustomed to being ignored by every man in Japan. He was the boss of one of my students, so I had met him several months ago but didn’t remember.

Apparently, this is the samurai way, one Japanese woman told me.    I rolled my eyes at that one. But maybe it was true. Free choice of marriage partners at that time did not exist, it was always arranged by a third party for the family’s sake, so of course, direct pursuit was not part of the warrior’s way, that and a lot of homosexuality existed in samurai culture that’s not talked about..  This was a better explanation than,”They’re shy.” I’ve outruled that one as an apologist excuse for Japanese culture shortcomings. The samurai of modern Japan has become the salary man overwork and undersexaholic, all while the relegation of sex into the underworld remains in the dark corners of happening bars and love hotels but never out in the open hallways or train cars.  The sound of the male cicada is almost louder than any other noise outside, because there are hundreds of them at any one time mate calling at once. I am reminded once again that I have no idea what the Japanese man’s mating call is. Everything that I have grown to understand as universal and natural has been thrown out the window. I am stumped, like a tree. I recently made eye contact with a Japanese guy on the train, he received this signal and it led to a one night stand at my place, upon which he promptly left in a hurry in the morning and ignored all my messages to try to hang out in the future.  Did he hit on me or did I hit on him, i’m pretty sure that I was the first one to look at him, but after my initial eyebrow greeting, I allowed him to naturally pursue me in the ways that I knew about from my upbringing in the U.S It was quick and silent, it happened on the train between 3 stops and was conceded in probably ten minutes. Nevertheless, I still don’t consider it successful because I was actually hoping for some kind of repeat dating relationship out of this since we actually had in common that we were performers! The ONLY reason this guy was successful at nanpa with me was because he offered to buy me a couple drinks at a local Izakaya to get to know me, something that his previous unsuccessful suitors didn’t have the common sense to even ask for.  I did it for the skin ship, because i wanted to sleep and cuddle all night, i don’t recall the sex part being anything interesting.. I did make him walk me 1.4 km home to buy more conversational time. Guys actually think they can kiss me within 10-30 minutes of meeting and hanging out or meeting for the first time. If he could drop his pants and mount me on the train and make it in time to get home without having to drop any money or effort at all he’d probably be really happy, oh wait, except they wouldn’t do that in public.  Alright, if he could mount me in a darkened alley outside of his home station without me ever complaining, he’d be happy.   If you agree to go on a date with a Japanese guy, he will indicate this is a date by holding your hand right from the get go. This is the only public display of affection that Japanese people feel comfortable with. Unfortunately for me, holding hands and kissing isn’t something I do with people unless I actually grow to like them, but I have found myself doing this in Japan because it is just the way things are done here.  When in Tokyo…do like Tokyo.

 

Speaking of mating calls and cicadas, the way that the Japanese men that I have had sex with could best be described doesn’t include a mating call but more of an indiscriminate mounting; similar to how dogs do when they smell a bitch.  There’s no mating call, just an expectation of immediate penetration with no foreplay whatsoever. A simple and straightforward one syllable question like “Kiss (チュー?” or “Sexエチ?” or a dropping of the pants and a reveal of their cocks as they stroke them for me have all been some of the unsuccessful attempts to bed me by Japanese men. One guy I actually left in the karaoke room with his pants down.  

 

Japanese men sometimes, hit on me (nanpa) while drunk wanting very primal one night stands late at night, but any other time there is nothing that indicates or lubricates a slow meeting of the minds or the bodies aside from the internet.  If I was a gay man, this type of nanpa would likely be a total win, if my ultimate goal was that quick casual fuck. But one night stands are actually not my goal here, although whatever new experiences I come across will also serve me in the time between my idealized relationship with the warrior who finally gives a shit.

 


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