Archive for the 'dating' Category

08
Sep
18

Omegas, Betas and Herbivores: problems of dating Japanese Men 1/2

This series was called “The Flower and Water” because I used to feel like a flower, sexual energetically speaking. In the previous chapter of my life (in America) I was the receiver of masculine energy: bees, birds, butterflies: praise, flirtation, smiling, greeting, small talk, dating, hitting on etc. I considered MEN to be my unofficial specialty having worked with them as clients for over 17 years.

In Japan, my current research in progress, taken largely from on the street interviews (youtube documentaries like Asian Boss), SNS websites with lots of useless idiotic banter (reddit and GaijinPot Forums) as well as editorial news sources.  It tells me that “61% of men in their 20’s and 70% of men in their 30’s in Japan are Beta males (known as herbivore men in Japan which is a slightly different take on the Alpha/Beta model) and that women over 25 are seen as useless because they cannot produce children or be useful housewives.  Aside from join them in the workforce, these women, are relegated to be used for sex or nothing at all for the men. In this society, however, sex is a distraction and takes no more priority over a man’s own family than the food that he eats (which because of his work schedule, sometimes he doesn’t eat much).  A lot of men in Japan can’t be bothered to spend their free time dating and would rather do things alone of more worth to them, such as play video games or rest from work.

In Japanese culture, upholding the group/company/nation is far more important than the individual’s needs, especially since the rebuilding period after the WW2.  The social group that one is a part of in Japan, is most often comprised of their co-workers who have to participate in obligatory drinking parties after an already long day at the office.   Sex and time with family are seen as individual needs that have been effectively socialized out of most men after the war created the rise of the workaholic ‘salary man’ as a replacement for the ruthless Imperial Army soldier.  This is the reason why, for the most part, I am invisible in Japan, and why many foreign women do not have much luck (but Alpha cis men often do) in Japan. I have never seen myself as an Alpha female, but in a country of Betas and herbivores who don’t care to look up at a beautiful woman because they are too busy eating grass, I realize how much I am.  

I might be proactive and confident, but I DO NOT want to do all the approaching and asking of men.  The Asian Boss episode also explains how typical this is in Japanese society I am honest, straightforward, affectionate in public and loyal. I am brimming with Tantric sexual energy (not DTF/One night stand/Nanpa kind of energy). Still, I remain a divine feminine flower blooming tall amongst a field of worker ants, the masculine mountains and the rising sun pollinates me because I can’t fit into the skinny jeans of most of the men here.  It all started with a few okcupid men and I exchanging messages about the situation of men in Japan. “You seem like an Alpha female type.” the guy said. I thought that an Alpha was a leader of a pride of lions, but humans actually don’t have the same clear cut and proven propensity to group like wild animals. Even the term “alpha male” has a bad rap in American culture. It seems to have the reputation of a egoistic guy who needs to be loud and take control of the room in a overt way in order to prove something.  Cultures, governments, racism, gender identity, war, drugs, dysfunctional families and so many other complex social factors that animals are not affected by create our social groupings and the way we pair bond. My experience in Japan as a participant observer leads me to really agree with the idea of the Beta male as a better explanation to “They’re all shy.” I can’t tell you how many times I have heard that and rolled my eyes. It strikes me as ridiculous each time a Japanese woman tells me this, so I’ve been searching for my own answers to the explanation of the lack of male attention that I get in Japan, because it seemed far to general and unintelligent of an explanation.   Although I’ve heard the herbivore theory before, in combination with the beta male theories, both popular culture science theories that seem to hold some truth, I am starting to not discount them as ridiculous. Herbivore, Betas and blood type personalities may not be “real science” that everyone believes, but it does hold truth for a lot of people in the culture and we can take historical facts (blood type theory), personal observation and environment into account and use them all to make our own deductions. Because, They’re all shy” isn’t offering me a better, more scientifically researched hypothesis by any means.

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.

 

12
Jul
18

Wishing for a Superstar Cow Herder…

Tanabata_JapanSuiteThis is the traditional Japanese summer tale called Tanabata  that I first paid attention to my first summer in Japan 2016.  It’s age old, originally from China and adapted into Japanese tradition which can even be seen pictured in Hokusai’s Ukiyoe prints.  I remember making a slip of paper in a nearby shopping mall in Kyoto that July:

“I wish to manifest the future co-creator of the family I wish to build, my mirror nisei nihonjin (this is back when I thought I was nisei, I’m actually hafu not nisei), artist; Bushido Code: Honor, loyalty, courage, integrity, sincerity, politeness and self control.”

36786313_2065384913490019_6171921936256335872_oThe same wish to manifest the future co-creator of the family I wish to build has been a personal mantra that I have chanted for at least 3 years or more intermittently through sex magic and prayer.  It’s not happened yet. Not even close. 3 years ago my ex boyfriend told me,”I’m sure someday you’ll make a great mother.” and in his own way he was trying to be supportive with his words but they were in effect telling me that our relationship was probably soon to expire, definitely before anything like pregnancy between us ever occurred, and that he wasn’t going to be the father.  I remember those words making me cry at the time. It’s just not what your monogamish current girlfriend wants to hear from her twin flame. My twin flame was not meant to be with me for long, he was just meant to reflect all my weaknesses, be like a broken mirror that would turn into the glass shards to cut me so deep and wide that I’d bleed all over myself, and reform into a new being.  That’s what twin flames do, didn’t you know? It’s not meant to be soul mate love, it’s something like the dark knight of the soul in the form of a relationship. I’ve had many of those already though, so that’s why being single for 3 years is bad but it’s not the worst thing, being in a terrible nightmarish relationship is worse. I didn’t write the Bushido code of honor, I found those words on the internet, but the self control part seemed to ring a bell in me.  No addictions, no out of control tempers, no abusers. Been there, done that. This year, since my birthday one of my wishes has been to bring more art into my life, so I embarked on an art project to create a Tanabata Wishing Tree with an accompanying photoshoot. This is pretty ambitious for me since, in the last six months most of my time and energy goes to teaching English full time for my low income and making art and music have had less than a backseat role in my life of late.  I posted an ad on Facebook for a collaborating photographer and I found one. I shopped for things to make the tree and accessories to suit up as Orihime the Star Princess in my newest concept. The photographer backed out of our original Saturday date (July 7th, actual Tanabata observed) and I coaxed him back to do the shoot by nightfall Sunday. Wow. Thank Goddess. I needed this. Art and music are spiritual food for me and my reserves are pretty empty lately and I haven’t done an asianprincessartifacts project in possibly 2 years or more.  

_DSF1704My 短冊 tanzaku (written wishes for the tree) were very specific this year: A greeting kiss in front of the train station.  To sleep in the same bed until the morning, no not just the nanpa morning, every morning with my beloved. Every morning. These two things for 85% of Japanese already take me out of their potential partner list.  I’m not even kidding. 85% of Japanese people will not want to kiss you in public, and certainly not in front of the train station on a regular basis. Most of them also will not want to share a bed with you beyond sex and procreation, and will eventually move to their own room.  These are certainly things that I took for granted in the U.S, as well as the physical attractiveness factor that I held for the more than 50% of heterosexual men that looked at me. I have moved to a country where everything I knew has been turned upside down and/or needs to be thrown out. It’s very rare someone is going to ask you on a date in person or compliment you, carry your bag for you or hold open a door.  This is Japan for women. 

New rules with new players.  Or, old rules new players.   Nothing is as Universal as I thought, especially in the land of densely packed separation. But still i wish upon the star tree I made because miracles brought me here, helped me flourish here and this is how I know I will end up getting everything I want.

11
Feb
18

Why don’t you just go back to America?

27545397_10100724331346657_2807881275576558963_nCertainly I am a miracle manifestor.  I just looked at my accounting for the year I decided to move countries to Japan.  This was the year that I crashed my car, fixed it back up and then a couple of months later the transmission died finally rendering it good for only parts and metal for $1000.  Upon receiving that $1000 I used that money to buy a ticket to Seattle, Alaska and Tokyo.  ONE WAY.  No turning back.  I didn’t have a car in Los Angeles for 6 months before I moved to Japan.  I worked on bicycle as a delivery person and ran my Tantra business.  Nothing was going to stop me after buying a plane ticket that I wasn’t going to waste.  I not only manifested miraculous money when I first arrived in the country, I was able to keep this streak going with just a few amazing well paying clients from both Japan and the U.S.  When I am adding up the numbers last night I am actually shaking my head wondering how the fuck I even got to where I am now.  One month, I had two clients paying $2000 and I lived off of that for two months inclusive of traveling all over Japan to places that I had never seen and places I can’t even afford to get to today.  Today I am working my ass off as a contract teacher for several different schools.  I spend hours on trains roundtripping from my home to far off classrooms in shopping malls and community colleges.  It feels like full time but its not.  It feels like I cannot work any harder, but to the Japanese worker, this is nothing.  Anything less than 60 hours in one office is not respectable.  I can’t pay my rent this month.  Some guy is going to knock on my door, but I probably won’t be at home because I’ll be at work.  I am currently waiting for just ONE Tantra client which is what I need to live alone in Tokyo in this small apartment that I manifested as a result of doing what I love, living in my purpose and life coaching.  When I got this apartment, I set my standards at a certain point.  No more sharehousing and shitty roommates.   I can have the lifestyle I want here.  In fact, my rent is cheaper in Tokyo than it was in rent controlled LA.   But the months since returning back to Tokyo in October have not been so good for my Tantra business.  I have found a way to post ads on craigslist that don’t get flagged.  I tried to post on the local hobbyist board but got hated on by all the providers and hobbyists there because I’m not doing what they are doing.  I am getting some emails from craigslist, which is another miracle because since CL stopped posting erotic service ads over ten years ago, it is impossible to post anything that sounds like it could be prostitution, although if you go to the casual encounters section most of the ads there are workers.  This is what backpage in America has moved into, using the personals as their sex work classifieds since bp.com’s ads also got shut down.  And I finally fucking figured out how to use bitcoin to pay for my ads and bitcoin also crashed so now backpage is no longer even accepting btc.  My miraculous 2016 turned into a 2017 year of uphill acclimating to the Japanese way, culture, language, laws and loneliness that after a while is no longer called that, it is just called normal.  Loneliness implies that you are wanting or longing for something, and at this juncture, I wish it would get better, but I am not crying out for it to get better.  I remember nights before I met my ex boyfriend in 2015 when I would be crying about being lonely and wanting a boyfriend.  And then for the next six months he came into my life and turned it upside down.  “You can do better.” I/they said.  “There are so many people who will treat you better.”  Ha, even he said it to my face in the first three months of our relationship.  Pretty much from month 2 he was already planning for our break up but holding me in his dysfunctional web just to torture me until he could find someone better.  So now, it has been three years since that time, and I am still single.  Where is that “better someone?” I wonder.  But I don’t wonder too long because I just try not to think negative thoughts and plague myself.  Instead I float into my night slumber saying the words,”I love you.  Thank you so much for coming into my life.  I’m so grateful for you.”  and I have great dreams usually.  I have been coached to do so many things to manifest the things that I have.  When things are not going your way, it is so easy to think all these sayings are just cognitive dissonance to cope with the fact that maybe you actually won’t get everything you want in life.  Tony Robbins says, you always get your standards.  Raise your standards.  I did.  I broke up with the ex.  I moved into this apartment.  These were great decisions of my life that I still don’t reget.  It took 10 months to heal from that but I learned so much about myself and what I don’t want.  But it seems like dating since then has just been an activity for temporary, somewhat satisfying companionship.  At 41, I no longer seek to “get laid,” especially as a Tantrika because having a spiritual and soulful connection is the only thing that opens my heart and legs at the same time.  It feels like the last 25 people that I have talked to or who have tried to woo me, I have not been attracted to.  There has been nothing, not even a spark, just a decision to not settle.  I don’t want to work on a relationship that I go in not liking.  Why don’t you just go back to America?  Some people have said to me.  I not only view that as quitting but its actually not practical for me.  I gave away all my belongings to move countries.  I gave up my apartment, my 11 year accumulation of super cool stuff, all my art work and equipment; my former life style.  And, if I left Japan now, I still would not be fluent in the language, nor would I really know the culture well enough because I’m limited by not speaking the language, and Japan takes just one year living in and also an entire lifetime to really understand.  I speak Japanese better than I ever have in my life.  I’ve gotten my mother to email me in Japanese, I’ve talked to my relatives that I wasn’t in contact with for 28 years.  I talk to them in Japanese.  I decided that i LOVE both America and Japan.  Because LOVE is complex, love doesn’t give you what you want, you work to sustain and understand it constantly.  It shouldn’t feel like work, it should feel like a flow.  Neither country is without its flaws and aggravating qualities.  I could learn Japanese elsewhere, but I know me, I won’t study if I don’t have to.  Living in Japan, I’m constantly motivated by my humiliation of confusion.  The societal exclusion of half passing, half speaking plagues me everyday.  I try to fit in but at the same don’t care to fit in to their stupid reindeer games, but I want to fit in well enough to have the option to play them.  I won’t leave until I do.

 

23
Jan
18

Being Grace Fully

I have been Grace at 22 years old.  I think it was exactly 22 years old when my sexual assault avoidance came crashing down with yet another gross violation of my verbal and non verbal cues.  My whole life changed at 22, and I started to go to trauma therapy for all that happened before this time at 22 and I would continue to progress through 15 more years of more sexual violence and deal with it other ways that you may or may not agree with it.  Nothing is black and white.  And sometimes it isn’t enthusiastic yes or hell no.  Eventually for most people who have experienced sexual violence it does get there, but it takes a few worst nights of your life before that can happen.  Sometimes we do drugs during or after, violence, payback, slutty behavior, denial, acting out, prostitution or long careers of sex work and activism as a result.  And it can ALL BE CONFUSING to us and our perpetrators and the ears of society.  Nothing in a book or workshop can help you when your body and mind decides to do something to survive.   I took years of Krav Maga self defense and I was still sexually violated by one of my instructors in class. Healing ends when life ends is what one of my mentors taught me, I know well that age makes us better at it.  Grace had the worst date of her life, I’ve had dates exactly like that at 22 AND I’ve even had dates with 22 year olds at my age now who pouted and whined because they didn’t get to orgasm and continued to persist even after my verbal and non verbal cues were communicated.  But I didn’t do anything with him at 41 like I might have at 22. It took decades of trauma and healing to become this clear and this strong through “learning the hard way.” 

What I did learn over time, in my getting better at dealing with being assaulted was how to soothe myself through my wounds, how to take better self care, how to recognize trauma symptoms and not avoid them, how to not seek violent or monetary payback or sexual cumback, and mostly how to speak out better than the last time, each time I got better. 

That krav maga instructor knows he violated me, because I filed charges with the school (not the police, fuck the police) and all his managers were called into a meeting with me and he was forced to face and apologize to me.  I didn’t want to ruin his career but I did stop taking his classes, and I learned to take back power a different way, I continued training in the same school for 2 more years never seeing him again.  And still I’m not naming him on social media here because I didn’t and still don’t think it is necessary and it bars him from actual remediation of his behavior, which might happen to Ansari.   This has clearly happened as a backlash to Grace for  “(paraphrased) trying to ruin Ansari’s career and her voice may become weaker and not stronger as a result, but I doubt it.  Life begins not ends at 22.  Hell, it doesn’t even end at 40 like I previously thought.  

IMG_20180123_140229_791

The tattoo of the magic wand with barbed wire is about the beginning of my sexual trauma awakening, painful and full of drama as being 22 is.  The magic wand symbolizes my inner light and magic and the barbed wire symbolizes the protection of its beauty and shine.  Barbed Wire also because at this time around 1999, Pamela Anderson’s Barb Wire was the hot movie and she the stripper protagonist was my role model who kicked ass and shot weapons in a PVC catsuit and seemingly never gave in to the desires of any of the men in the film.  Later on the arm I tattooed the goddess Kwan Yin, and the character for Agape LOVE, all of this is related to my hero’s journey and the pain that I have endured to get to peace that I feel now.

Mr. Ansari, in a statement responding to the account, said that “by all indications” the encounter was “completely consensual.”  

When I read this, I’m not triggered, I understand.  But I have decades of incidents over both of these people possibly because of I worked as a sex worker for 15 years.  I almost don’t want to use that as a qualifier because half of the sexual violence I experienced happened outside of sex work environments, but 15 years of sex work was the way that I learned how to come to grips with the world I lived in and the bed I made for myself (radical responsibility not blame).  I started to take radical responsibility for some of the situations I put myself in.  I had to because although I tried to make death and addiction an option, the Universe just wouldn’t let me go out so easy.  My first date rape at age 17 and almost all of the violations after that, I’d bet 5 million dollars that all of these men thought what we did was TOTALLY consensual.  The drunken 17 year I was did not consent to being led to a darkened empty beach in Hawaii and laid down on the sand, but my reaction at that time was to hop on top of the dick that non consensually penetrated me and try to take back the power that was just taken from me by maybe trying to “get an orgasm” because at least I would have gotten something, anything.   So, I know too well why Grace might have sucked his dick even if she felt violated, however, I wasn’t there so maybe she didn’t do what I did, we are all projecting into both of these or any of the characters.   But, if it was then this is a behavior I know well.   It grew to be the way that I would deal with healing from sexual violence for 15 years, like an addict chasing their first high, those of us (men, women and in between) that chase power (payback, fame, money) in the world realize that it is a slippery snake if not an illusive and deceptive one that is not even real.  It makes consent look unclear because of the illusion of seduction or enjoyment that you created out of desperation, immaturity, ignorance or insecurity.  

The conversation about sexual violence, rape, assault and ALL the words in between definitely needs to include abuse of power, social justice, dating protocol, conversations and nuances, it needs to include sex work, drugs, spiritual abuse and BDSM ethics, ALL THE 50 SHADES OF GRAY need to come out of the closet and not be judged.  (to be con’t)

 

08
Jan
18

2017: My 1st year of Japan residency comes to an end

s-New-Years-card2017 comes to an end at midnight and I am putting Kabuki Kumadori makeup on my face.  The Japanese tradition of visiting a temple at midnight with crowds of people who pray at midnight silently as the year changes from rooster to dog.  I sat in lotus in my Tokyo apartment, and rang my healing bowls, focusing inwards and honoring my own body temple.  I was preparing myself for a burlesque performance at a nightclub in Shibuya that I have been to a few times.  A place where there were going to be familiar faces and friendly people and most importantly free admission because I knew one of the DJs.  I didn’t feel like spending lots of money or pushing past obnoxious people as New Year’s Eve in all big cities around the world are guaranteed to be, especially not through Shibuya which is a Christmas shopping crowd in America every single day.  As I walked towards the club from the train someone pulled me back from my backpack straps aggressively.  I was starting to feel the acid that I took so I didn’t feel like talking English or Japanese.  I was assessing what he wanted and if I needed to be alarmed or just remain blank as I was.  “Hey, can I take a picture with you?” the young Japanese asshole asked.  I really wish I could have the same responses to tell someone off in Japanese in these same situations as I do in English, but in general in the last five years, I’ve not really been a confrontational person, and Japan has truly made me quieter and less confrontational on top of holding a walking meditative stance as a Tantrika.  Thegoddess deescalates by reflecting calm.  26172487_10213003257389370_1062889378776343392_oDude clocks me as a foreigner because of my costume, because a Japanese person would not dare wear something like what I was wearing.  A women’s summer yukata, kimono over jeans and a sweatshirt in the winter and a male actors makeup scheme, but that was exactly my point in presentation.  I wasn’t going to try to be Japanese or fit in tonite, I was going to be 2000% Mariko Passion for the first time in a great long time in Japan.  If i was in America, they’d think I was dressed like a geisha because that’s the most popular kimono association foreigners have about Japan usually, which is why I hate being called a foreigner.   I often don a gender queer presentation when I feel like fucking with mainstream society.  I do it in Los Angeles and I do it in Tokyo.  It is a reflection of fearlessness and a return to my inner I don’t give a fuck.  In Japan, everything is about what everybody else thinks about you.  Your success in business and social circles has to do with how you carry yourself at moments when you think you aren’t being watched, at moments when you should have a right to act as you feel is natural to do, it is a Matrix that is enforced by the mainstream here, deeper and more restrictive than any American society in existence.  If you don’t feel that in Japan yet, then you are still obviously a tourist enjoying Japan.  Being a resident alien is something totally different.  The vacation is over.  You better get to where you need to go and not get lost because you need to show up ten minutes early and stay late and be happy about it.   Realness and the oppression of women and everyone who doesn’t act like a right acting 100% “normal” Japanese citizen hasn’t stripped away your enjoy-ment just yet. As a tourist, ometenashi is still being bestowed on you as a guest in the country, you aren’t being constantly treated like you are invisible or that you need to apologize for your own existence at every moment.  My sisters and I could never understand why my mother carried such a heavy burden of caring about what everyone else thought before herself, even fifty years after she had long left Japan and become an American citizen with suitable English competency and 3 Americanized kids, her Japaneseness was still deeply ingrained in her.  The culture you were born and raised in never leaves your consciousness I suppose, and that was my biggest problem in Japan.  As a hafu Japanese, I am able to blend half the time when I want to but most of the time conforming doesn’t suit me anywhere I go in the world and the artist in me wants to free myself of my shackles, which would often happen even in the so called land of the free.  I am of different subcultures and nations, gender expressions and desires rolled up into something that shouldn’t be figured out.  I asked the promoter on New Years Eve if I could jump up on the poles they had at the club and dance for people all night.  He wasn’t going to pay me but I still needed to let him know because I was dressing up and probably showing more of my body than most people in the club that night.  I still had 6 inch red stiletto stripper heels and I didn’t forget how to dance in them with shameless confidence that no born Japanese girl without tattoos and sex work experience could ever imagine in her wildest dreams and that’s why most of my fans that night were women.  I was releasing sexual frustration out on Japanese society.  To me it was unfathomable that I couldn’t date who I wanted and capture the attention of men and women in a big bad metropolitan city like Tokyo.  Was everyone just a silent salary man throwing up on the train in his man purse?  I had dated a few Japanese men as my mission to learn the language so I have gained my frustration through experience.  I’ve chatted with women and non Japanese residents on dating sites and tried to date them too without great luck.  I continue to daily remind myself that the romantic relationship I have already created for myself is on its way.  This night was about dancing my kimono off and channeling all my pent up sexual frustration trying to survive in this society, being grateful for all that I am and all that I have learned.  The release had nothing to do with getting laid.  I can get laid in Tokyo if I wanted to have a little Japanese dog humping my leg and call that sexual satisfaction which was nothing close to the Tantric unions that I was fueled from.  Kekko desu, I pass.  The way that men nanpa in Japan just doesn’t make me want to move or open, so I am often alone here.   I want to worshipped as the goddess that I am by a god, by the reflection of my own greatness, but I seem unable to find them in Japan.   But, for once, tonite at the club, I was basking in the light of my glory, honoring my body temple, giving others permission to be themselves and showing them how to do it.   Interestingly enough in the U.S, nipples and alcohol are illegal but not in Japan.  But because Japan pushes everyone’s emotions and sexuality into a small box, and everyone is effectively controlled by their ties to jobs or family, most people do not step out of line out of fear of losing one of those connections and being shunned into further invisibility than daily life can be.  Japan has one of the highest suicide rates in the country, and though I came here with a dream and i made it come true, the reality of daily life and the matrix web wiping the smile off of my face after some time of being ignored and not seen for weeks and then months.  You are not special in Japan.  No one is special in Japan.  ONLY Japan is special, and if you can force yourself to be part of the whole, then you can access that specialness too, conditionally.  I have meditated back into alignment finally after the funeral of the eldest sibling of my mother reminded me of these family ties that bind in a way that you can never escape, in a way that you can never be independent or make mistakes, be adult or even be your own person.  It is an immense amount of pressure to hold.  If you jump in front of a train to kill yourself, your family will be sued by the Tokyo government for disrupting everyone else’s working schedule probably until they also die, and yet these kinds of suicides are the most commonplace occurrance.  It’s made me rethink staying here, but still I know that it was the law of attraction and positive vibrations and determination that got me all that I have in Japan and it will be that same determination which will bring everything else that I desire to fruition, so it is my job to radiate that my needs are already met and breathe that in as real.  I am beyond nationality and gender.  I am not a slave to the matrix, I am just dropping in.  

26
Aug
16

Japanese Men-Stop Giving Me a Bad Impression part 3 (more Hiro Factor)

I came to Tokyo with an open heart and an open mind.  But in the 3 months that I’ve been here Japanese men have given me some pretty bad impressions.  Last night, Im walking around Shibuya without a bra because I hate wearing them and can only handle about 8 hours in them. i am reminded that i’m not allowed to do that in Japan. Showing your tattoos is a stretch enough but no bra as well is more than anyone around these parts has ever seen so boldly in public.   Hiro walks up to me as I am wandering around looking for my next adventure and asks if I want to have a drink. I’m happy when a Japanese person is so bold, and the last time this happened the guys who did this turned out to be NICE GUYS. Real HEROS. They helped me try to find a hotel when I got into town late at night and most of the places available did not accept women in their hotel and the others were way too expensive. We chatted and laughed and language exchanged, they shook my hand and bid me sayonara as I walked alone, completely unoffended and unmolested up the stairs to my love hotel room.  They were both Japanese men who just approached me on the street to converse about my tattoos.


The Shibuya HIRO is now walking quickly up this street and I’m asking him to walk slower and wait for me in Japanese.  When a dude doesnt stop and wait for me when we are supposed to be walking together is going to be my new indicator of the Hiro factor. I follow him up the stairs to one of these very popular private karaoke suites that you can rent by the hour all over Japan.  I hate singing karaoke recreationally but since I agreed to the drink I’d participate in it I supposed. He speaks no English so I was excited for the opportunity to try to learn more Japanese.  it didn’t take too long trying to get through the first Alicia Keys song I chose which I sounded badly singing that he led my hand to his erection, trying to feel me up, down and sideways and now i’m doing my sex worker defense skills which look like me trying to sing while grabbing his hand and making sure it stays away from anywhere I don’t want it, and of course that’s when he puts it on his dick. A REAL FUCKING HIRO.  Have we been in this room 10 minutes perhaps?  He lays back and rests his head on my thigh. I place my head on his forehead and gaze at him with loving, nurturing energy trying to calm him down, a failed Tantra Ninja attempt. He’s unable to control himself and starts to put his hands down his pants. I get up and and pull my phone out of the wall CONSENTO (the Japanese word for wall socket is consento but most Japanese Hiros dont really understand this concept of sexual consent as its totally screwed up in Japan worse than in America, just watch 10 min of Japanese porn or anime porn and you’ll see just how NO, STOP, DON’T!! mean YES! YES! YES! to anyone watching, mostly HIROS. So I dont want to confuse the guy by saying Stop or trying to negotiate the boundaries in any way. I tell him I’m leaving. he opens his arms and tells me to come sit down with him with a smile.  NOPE. LEAVING. i say. For a few seconds he is actually chasing me around the table in the tiny room. i open the door of the room and rapidly walk, in disgust disappearing quickly through the crowded sidewalk weaving up the footbridge and making quick turns through thick Shibuya crowds in case he decided to follow me even though I knew he wasn’t because he had to pay for the room.  I stop to lean over the rail of the footbridge and stare at the traffic and bright lights, crazy Shibuya streetlife.  I take several slow deep breaths of calm and slow myself down. I am more disappointed than traumatized when this happens now.  I pull my bra out of my bag and put all of its ridiculous uncomfortable binding straps and padding back on my always erect but not horny nipples.  Maybe this will buy me some peace so I can pass out on the hour long train ride I have back to my suburban room.




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